Whsssh!
Before Unkawa’s words could reach anyone’s ears, they were swallowed by the shrill whistle of something cutting through the air.
The scar-faced Sunagakure shinobi watched in horror as countless flashes of cold light tore through the rain like streaking swords, racing straight toward him.
Their piercing cries rose above the storm like the blast of a war horn.
“Damn it!” Acting purely on instinct, he yanked on the chakra threads connected to his puppet.
Click!
Clack!
The puppet’s hollow abdomen sprang open.
Kunai and shuriken poured out in a dense barrage, blanketing the area with indiscriminate fire.
Driven by fear, he emptied nearly every hidden weapon stored inside the puppet at once.
“How many senbon can he possibly have?” “And how many times can he dodge…
or block this?” Even as the thought crossed his mind, he instinctively took a step backward.
He could no longer tell whether he was questioning Unkawa—or himself.
Deep down…
He had already decided to retreat.
There was something profoundly abnormal about that boy.
He wasn’t avoiding the attacks with speed alone.
He was intercepting every projectile head-on with senbon.
It was almost as if…
He were using the barrage to sharpen his own throwing technique.
The scar-faced shinobi wasn’t some old-fashioned samurai obsessed with dying honorably in battle.
If something beyond his expectations appeared, the correct choice was to survive, report back, and let those above him deal with it.
“Besides…
Sensei should have noticed something is wrong by now.
He’ll be here soon…” The instant that thought formed— Bzzzt!
Bzzzt!
From Yahiko and Konan’s perspective, Unkawa’s body became little more than an afterimage beneath the moonlight.
His previous movements had already been unbelievably fast.
Now…
He had become even faster.
Their eyes could no longer follow the motion of his hands.
All they saw were bursts of sparks exploding between the two combatants.
Steel collided with steel.
Though the senbon were fewer in number and far smaller than the incoming weapons, they triggered an astonishing chain reaction.
One senbon shattered after knocking away a kunai— Yet the broken fragments continued onward, striking two more kunai and knocking them off course before they could reach Unkawa.
Sparks rained from the sky.
The piercing clang of metal echoed continuously through the alley.
Broken kunai and shattered senbon embedded themselves in the wet ground.
Their polished edges reflected the terror on the scar-faced shinobi’s face.
“Impossible!” His first thought was that he had encountered a member of the Uchiha Clan.
Almost reflexively, he looked toward Unkawa’s eyes, expecting to see crimson Sharingan.
Instead…
There was no scarlet.
Not even the deep blue he had seen before.
Only a flash of cold steel descending from the corner of his vision.
At that instant— He understood.
But understanding wasn’t enough.
He no longer had time to react.
Hidden by Presence Concealment, the strike was quieter than a ghost.
His reflexes could no longer save him.
One slash.
That was all it would take to sever his head.
“This time…” “I’ve caught you.” A hoarse voice suddenly sounded behind him.
Terror overwhelmed reason.
The scar-faced shinobi’s face twisted into madness.
His eyes lost all trace of humanity.
Rather than retreat, his body lunged toward Unkawa on pure instinct.
Unkawa instantly understood his intention.
The horizontal slash meant for his neck changed midway.
The blade swept diagonally downward— From shoulder to hip.
Nanaya Assassination Arts: Flash Draw — Meigoku Shamon!
CRACK!
Brilliant sparks burst into the air like silver blossoms.
Yet what scattered wasn’t fire— It was blood.
And splintered bone.
Unkawa’s already chipped short sword lodged deep within the man’s chest.
Blood poured down his body.
“AAAAAGH!” The scar-faced shinobi screamed in agony.
Blood vessels burst across his eyes.
His face contorted grotesquely.
He finally realized…
The person before him wasn’t merely an exceptional shinobi.
He was something closer to a monster.
If he continued trying to emerge unharmed— The next strike would unquestionably take his head.
Enduring unbearable pain, he reached with his left hand to seize Unkawa’s blade while simultaneously driving his right elbow toward Unkawa’s throat.
If he couldn’t avoid death…
He would exchange wounds to create even the smallest chance of survival.
At the same time, his fingers twitched almost imperceptibly.
His chakra surged.
Click!
Clack!
Behind Unkawa, the puppet sprang to life.
Two black chains burst from beneath its sleeves.
The chains were lined with rotating serrated blades, twisting through impossible angles as they screamed toward him.
Anyone caught by those chain blades would be shredded to pieces.
Their master included.
But faced with this desperate struggle…
Unkawa simply smiled.
“You dodged.” “Good.” “That just means…” “You won’t die so easily.” Boom!
Gripping his sword with both hands, Unkawa drove a powerful kick into the man’s chin, wrenching the blade free from his ribs.
Nanaya Assassination Arts: Flash Step — Six Rabbits!
The terrifying chain blades swept past.
Unkawa twisted through them in an impossible dance, gliding by with elegant precision.
No ordinary human body could move like that.
Beauty and lethality became one.
That…
Was the Nanaya Assassination Arts.
The ability to accelerate from complete stillness.
To perform movements impossible at extreme speed.
Slash!
A gust sharper than the night wind swept past.
Blood trickled across the scar-faced shinobi’s face.
A crimson line slowly spread over his old scar.
Then— It split open.
The familiar pain awakened memories he had buried long ago.
“…Impossible…” His voice was filled with confusion.
“…You’re…” “…That boy…” “…The one I killed…” One year earlier, the Rain Country faction led by Hanzo of the Salamander had begun advocating war, hoping to drive both Konoha and Sunagakure out of the Land of Rain.
After becoming a Chunin, he had received his first A-rank mission.
Under the command of a Jonin captain, their objective had been to assassinate the influential elders secretly supporting Hanzo’s faction.
Those elders served as chief advisors to the daimyo, overseeing military, political, and economic affairs.
To ensure the Land of Rain remained a buffer state between the great powers, Konoha and Sunagakure had quietly cooperated with the Rain Country’s peace faction to eliminate the pro-war leaders.
During that mission…
He had merely followed along to earn merit.
Yet at his teacher’s command…
He had slaughtered one elder’s entire family.
If memory served…
That family’s surname had been— “Yamasato…” “So…” “You remembered.” Unkawa sighed softly behind him.
“If you’d made sure I was dead back then…” “There probably wouldn’t be a ‘me’ standing here today.” When Unkawa first awakened in this world…
The first thing he had seen was a kunai.
And the grin of the man holding it.
Pain.
Hatred.
Despair.
Emptiness.
Death.
Only after lingering between life and death…
After connecting with the Root and comprehending the nature of death…
Had he clawed his way back from hell.
“In that case…” “Perhaps I should be thanking you.” His tone made it impossible to tell whether he was joking or mocking him.
Thud.
Unkawa released his grip.
Driven only by instinct, the scar-faced shinobi collapsed onto the muddy ground, clutching the massive wound in his chest.
“Cough…
please…” “…Spare me…” “…I never wanted…” Blood poured from his mouth.
Still…
His desire to survive drove him to crawl like a dying insect.
Perhaps a kind-hearted person would pity such a miserable sight.
Perhaps they would simply watch him die.
After all…
He had merely been following orders.
He hadn’t— “AAAAAH!” Unkawa stepped onto his mangled back.
The shinobi shrieked like a dying beast.
With a light tap of his foot, Unkawa rolled him onto his back.
Their eyes met.
Deep blue eyes.
Reflecting crimson rain and mist.
Without the slightest trace of pity.
Gradually…
The scar-faced shinobi saw another face overlapping with Unkawa’s.
A year ago.
The young boy he had left bleeding on the ground had stared at him with those same calm eyes— As though engraving his face into memory forever.
“The first time we met…” “You were already this ugly.” “And now that you’re about to die…” “You should stop making such an ugly face.” Unkawa smiled gently.
“For these last few moments…” “Keep looking at me.” “Remember my face.” “If the death of your soul can shine brightly enough…” “Perhaps it’ll attract something…” “…Just as mine did.” He slowly raised the nearly broken short sword.
The scar-faced shinobi opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something.
Only blood came out.
Rainwater carried the crimson flow across the ground.
The two figures faced one another amid a world of blood-red mist.
The scene froze.
The blade pierced straight through his heart.
“I’ll be waiting…” “For the day they come seeking revenge.” Looking at the hatred still frozen upon the dead man’s face, Unkawa spoke quietly.
“Only those prepared to be killed…” “Have the right to draw their blade.” “Isn’t that true?” Thrust!
To ensure there would be no mistakes— He drove the blade through the man’s brain.
The head rolled across the blood-soaked ground, moonlight reflected in lifeless eyes.
Unkawa had no intention of repeating the same mistake his enemy once made.
Some time later…
Footsteps echoed through the rain.
The sound was accompanied by the crunch of snapping bones and the dying whimper of a stray dog.
Silence returned.
Then a woman’s voice broke it.
“…Dome-kun.” Two figures wearing raincoats stood side by side.
The most striking feature was the man’s dark crimson hair.
Beside him stood a brown-haired woman whose face was filled with concern.
“…I know.” The red-haired man tossed aside the dead dog in his hand.
“I hate this place more every day.” “Even the stray dogs bare their fangs at me now.” At his feet lay a corpse that had already been mauled beyond recognition.
Its chest had been pierced clean through.
Fresh blood still flowed from the wound.
The ground looked as though someone had poured buckets of red paint across it.
“What a cruel bastard…” The brown-haired woman inhaled slowly.
Even the rain smelled of blood.
It was as though blood itself had become mist…
Then clouds…
Then rain.
Merely breathing the air made it feel as if she could smell flesh splitting beneath a blade.
“Dome.” “The brain was destroyed.” “A very cautious opponent.” The red-haired man crouched beside the corpse, carefully examining the wounds.
“…Every injury was made by a bladed weapon.” “A sword?” The woman’s expression became grave.
“Could it have been the White Fang of Konoha?” “No.” Dome shook his head.
“It wasn’t Hatake Sakumo.” “That bastard’s Thousand Years of Death is revolting…” “But a former samurai would never torture a mere Chunin.” “He wouldn’t need to.” He vanished with the Body Flicker Technique, reappearing beside the scattered ninja tools before entering the alley.
“An opponent highly proficient in assassination…” “…projectile weapons…” “…and swordsmanship.” Although much of the evidence had already been washed away by rain, he could still reconstruct the battle.
The culprit resembled one of Amegakure’s self-taught shinobi more than anyone else.
They often developed bizarre assassination techniques that produced unexpectedly talented fighters.
As Dome stepped toward the corpses— A nearly inaudible sound reached his ears.
His pupils contracted.
The next instant— BOOM!!
Several Explosive Tags detonated simultaneously.
The corpses were blown apart, flesh and blood scattering across the rain-soaked alley.
Several kilometers away…
Unkawa stopped walking.
Feeling the faint tremor beneath his feet, he looked back toward the plume of smoke rising into the sky.
A smile appeared on his face.
“I hope you enjoy my little gift.” “And…” “I hope you don’t end up dying to the White Fang before you find me.”