NeoShadows back at it again! Been a long while but I'm back with a new chapter for you all to visually gobble up like the glutens you are.
Life has been rather...lax. For once in a long while, things aren't stressful with either work or family. I mean work is still work, so I'm usually arriving with the normal fatigue. And I can only really write on my days off...after doing my best to stay away from both my PS4 and my Switch. I swear to god, I've been playing Pokemon Brilliant Pearl for research on my ToAru/Pokemon story. Not because of the sexy chics of my childhood drawing me back in.
Right now, I'm taking whatever opportunity I can to write so I can publish at least once or twice a month. I'm not making promises, of course. Life can interrupt even the well most well-planned man.
So, I'll keep writing and updating however fast I can.
Now, let's get those reviews out of the way!
SkyChaser7: Crime Lord Kamijou? Isn't that a terrifying concept! Hell, we already got Hamazura calling him boss. Last thing we need are any more delinquents calling him boss with words of praise. And I feel as if Touma would join Jiraiya in nearly dying to Tsunade's wrath due to his blunt tone. This but the mid-way point of this arc. One we're ready to close to fall back onto the main rails to the final battle upon a stage above the waves. You think this has been exciting so far? Just you wait until we clash with the true demons of the waves! Hell, even I'm excited as I begin editing and reworking the big battle.
GG Vegito: I do what I can to strike you with as many emotions as I can. I hope to keep this up as we keep moving!
Saraak: Google translate- hit the nail on the head there. Seeing as Japanese is not my native tongue, I can only use crappy translation engines for such matters. If you have any recommendations to help with that, be my guest. No, really. This isn't sarcasm or anything! I would genuinely appreciate anything better than google translate. But as for the translation for Draw, I did look it up. I'll try DeepTL and see how it goes, but if you have any other ones in mind, don't be afraid to share them. And sorry the messy translations soured the chapter for ya.
Sagnik Deb: Eh, I haven't lost my inspiration for this story, so I'll keep churning whatever I can out. If you'll keep reading then I muster whatever I can to keep you entertained!
Craytherlay: Ah, but who says the darkness is gone? He's just a normal boy. Let's forget about his previous feats, his fights against powerful magicians, monstrous espers, deadly humans, and nightmarish gods. A human who clings to his humanity is still a weak and corruptible human. We're not out of this dungeon of demons just yet. Let's hope he can continue clutching onto a light to keep him sane through this terrible prison of sin.
B099: I've actually read the Shakugan no Shana crossover before. Back when I first got into ToAru and went diving into this site for stories. Really wish they kept updating. Hell, I wish we had more crossovers in general with ToAru. I'd do anything for someone out there to write up a decent Rosario+Vampire or ToLoveRu crossover with ToAru. I'm all for writing new stories but if I ain't got a proper idea down than I won't. Plus I'm busy as it is with what's on my plate now. Though I do admit, I do have a few things cooking in the back burner for the future.
Masterx01: Pft! I'm always MIA; it's what I do. I drop off the radar like a stealth fighter jet...but slower and plainly visible with a poor disguise. Waraji was a creative liberty on my end. I wanted this mini-arc to delve into how terrifying and cruel humans without supernatural abilities or tragic backstories could be to a boy who is always searching for that spark of empathy he can latch onto in order to save them. The serial killer from OT4 was one thing but it was a brief encounter in my opinion. Again, I wanted to delve more into how difficult it would be for Touma to face off against such demons who lacked tragedy to their origins. And yes, we're wrapping this min-arc up so we can finally get to the finale battle on the bridge to come in the next few chapters; give it another chapter before we start the finale. I'm just as impatient to get to the later parts of this story involving characters like Jiraiya. Trust me, if I had no shame at all, I'd push us straight there. You have no idea what I have already planned for those two. Especially the Sound War. That's going to be my favorite arc of all to come. I can only ask for patience. It takes time to write for a guy like me. I only hope its worth the wait.
MrQuestionMark: I refuse to go into any detail at all to the BTL. The seed has been planted and we'll what it grows into down the line. I'm doing a lot of that with these early chapters. After all, if you want a proper plant to flourish in the future, you got to start by burying a few healthy seeds here and there. And I'm glad you noticed that detail about Kyofu. Just by introducing someone, a life can be either saved or changed. She would have simply been a no-name piece who was never mentioned or brought up if she hadn't shared a certain cell with a down on his luck boy. I would also say that the real action between Touma and Team 7 is better found at the end. Come next chapter, we'll be heading straight to that epic fight I've been waiting for a long time to reveal!
Saper1628: I wouldn't really say such a small detail would bother me too much. Then and Than are easily confused with another. Often times they are overlooked when one writes as much as I do per chapter. Though I still do my best to catch the little hiccup here and there. I'm not perfect, nor am I a professional writer either. This is a hobby I enjoy, so don't take it so seriously as to get you riled up. Just enjoy the story. I will do my best to clear up such errors when I can, so don't worry.
LoneVigor98: Thanks for the compliment! I admit, sometimes I get lost in the moment when typing up such events. I always search up some inspirational or emotional music for better impact. So, I'm glad those emotions got through to you. Eh? There...There's a level for fanservice? Does such a thing exist? Such a thing means nothing to a young adult man!
TazalTerminals: That disease is dangerous. And we've yet to leave this small nation on the seas. I shudder to think of the kind of damage he'll cause once he leaves. As for the last part...perhaps it's better you remain confused to what it could mean.
Yuuji Akira: You and I both. Things may have calmed down on my end, but death is never far behind with a creepy grin, a blush, a sharp kitchen knife, and adoration in her sinister eyes that have been tracking me as far back as when I was just a toddler. I swear, you escape her clutches once, twice, thrice, and many more times over and she still doesn't get that I'm not interested. You got some interesting questions on ya. I'll answer a few just for you but not all. I'd rather like to reveal everything else as we continue on with the story for better explanation.
1. Imagine Breaker will, of course, negate your common ninjutus- i.e. fireballs, lightning strikes, winds blasts, earth spears, molten lava, ice needles, etc. If it is conjured from nothing, molded from nothing, than its form will be naturally destroyed. But if the ninjutsu utilizes natural elements already there than it will be a case of Birdway's water dagger barrage. The body will lose shape and burst to its original state. Genjutsu might be a tricky subject to delve into later on, but my understanding from Touma's encounter with mental type espers is that so long as he feels something wrong with his senses, he will automatically reach for his head to dispel the strange power. Dojutsus and Kinjutsus are also tricky and better explained later on. We must remember the rule of Imagine Breaker's Absolute: if its natural state was altered by outside forces into a new state, as in the realm of normality void of bizarre and strange phenomena, than any contact or interaction with the right hand will destroy, negate, erase, or kill it depending on whether is should exist.
2. Pretty sure, no matter how complex or powerful the seal is, Imagine Breaker will destroy it without question. If something is stored within then it will be released. It's just like breaking a lock. An automatic rejection. I'm staying away from the matter of bijuu for now. We'll get into that at some point. But I will say that they may as well be no different than Kazakiri's situation.
3. As for the introduction of any more ToAru characters...I'd rather not answer that. But to be perfectly clear! Let's get this out of the way; characters like Misaka, Index, Accelerator, or even Hamazura WILL NEVER BE INTRODUCED TO THE STORY. References, sure. But you won't find them suddenly popping up out of nowhere just because. I actually prefer crossover stories with just the main character being the only one introduced to a new world. It becomes far more interesting in my eyes for them to learn, struggle, adapt, and interact with a world not their own. As this is Kamijou Touma we're speaking about...pairings? Pfft! He'd be lucky to survive a girlfriend. We'll see.
That should do it for now. How about we get this over with, so we can go through the agonizing wait for the next shot of addiction?
Scroll away!
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to either A Certain Magical Index or Naruto. Both rights are reserved to their respective creators, Kazuma Kamachi and Masashi Kishimoto.
Chapter 8: The Blind To A Winning Hand.
Prison_BREAK.
The citizens of Nami no Kuni's main island were startled by what felt like an earthquake.
An unseen force pierced the invisible veil curtain of the innards of reality itself.
People were staggered and knocked off their feet. Buildings shivered and groaned. Various shop items and products fell to the ground. And even the intimidating thugs belonging to Gato were taken back by what felt like the earth below their feet trembling as if explosives had gone off in the earth's core.
It felt as if the entire world's surface had been disturbed by something unseen and terrifying. At any moment they feared they would be invaded by a vicious new world. Foreign matter wormed itself somewhere, no differently than a terrible parasite.
Collectively, a shiver was felt deep within the people's cognitive thoughts. Unseen and overwhelming pressure pressed gleefully upon their very souls.
Yet there was no time to process the sudden earthquake as it calmed down in a matter of minutes with no lasting damage to the village or the landscape. Even those who found themselves knocked to the ground by the deep rumbling earth hadn't even picked themselves up before they heard another tremor rattle the village.
One far closer to their hearts.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!
The tinges of orange on the horizon of the seaside village were recolored by black tendrils. Noxious tendrils of thick smoke rose above the heads of the still shell-shocked people of Nami no Kuni as they heard a chorus of explosives go off like fireworks. The scent of fire, smoke, and burning wood were powerful to all those who listlessly stared at the columns of darkness arising from an all too familiar site of the village.
Sector-D.
What had once been another part of their lovely home village that had been protected by their champion but had fallen under the rule of Gato to become a base for this cruelty and a constant reminder of his shadow over their backs…
"...It's..."
He was a crab fisherman. Just another one of the poor, helpless, and unfortunate man who found himself constantly plagued by a tyrant's greed so that he could no longer properly provide for his family. Every coin and Ryo he made was taken by the sadistic hyenas known as Gato's thugs so that he and his family may live another month. Despite being fit and strong enough to take on a few of those bastards with his fists, he knew he would simply be achieving a short sense of victory until he was hunted down and publicly slaughtered.
Just like Kaiza.
Like many of Nami no Kuni's soulless villagers who drifted along aimlessly through the streets, he found his focus centered on the wafting smoke and faint embers sprinkling along with the wind.
Gato's stronghold, one of the many pieces scattered throughout their islands, a monument to his terror and the people's fear…
"It's burning."
An orange glow could be seen overhead of the roofs of the village where one could point out the location of Sector-D. Where the crab fisherman and others stood positioned them in the proximity to hear the eardrum rattling explosives going off in another chain of blasts that further painted a lovely mix of orange, red, pink, and yellow. Shouts of panic could be heard by those who resided in the stronghold of demons where they found themselves being attacked by unknown assailants.
"What the hell? Wh-what's going on?! Who the fuck's attacking our base!?"
The crab fisherman was suddenly reminded of those very demons who were now running around with flames crawling on their hides.
He balled his fist with a frustrated snarl.
How could he forget? In all the explosive booms and tremors shaking the world on its side, he had let slip the presence of those always grinning and giggling horned bastards.
Something had happened earlier today. A fight had broken out as Gato's thugs went around to harass and attack the people of Nami no Kuni under the pretense of paying up the monthly protection fee. Several people had been slaughtered by the one-eyed wild beast known as Waraji, their bodies carved up gruesomely like they were pigs. A young man had stood up to said sadistic beast who wore a crazed grin splattered in blood, fought back against his men, faced off with the cruelest and well-known lunatic among the cesspool of monsters, and…
And…
And…
Survived.
It had been nothing more than rumors. Silly, childish, unbearable rumors better fit for children who were still ignorant to Gato's evil.
But it had been said that said the unknown young man had utterly beaten Waraji until he resembled a black, blue, and red bruised fruit. Some had said to have seen the bloodied young man wipe the trickle of blood off his chin, clench his fist, and head off towards Sector-D. Droplets of red were said to be seen leading to the base of Gato's men, charging ahead to the physical representation of the ugly knife held at their throats on a daily basis.
A small group of villagers had said Tsunami, the wife of the fallen champion Kaiza, was seen in tears as if she had once again witnessed her husband taken away by Gato to be executed. She had been heard begging the group of shinobi who had been hired by Tazuna for protection to save said young man, collapsing on her knees with tears streaming down her grief-stricken face.
It had been a rumor. One he hadn't given much thought as minded his own business and tried to move on as he tried to find a place to buy food for himself with what little money he had left.
But then the likes of the thug who was panicking at the rise of flames and smoke overhead Sector-D had once again trampled on what little respite they had in this terrible nightmare they called reality.
Those demons had been grinning, gloating about how they had captured Kaiza's successor, laughed cruelly as they spoke of beating him up and nailing him onto a board just like the late champion, and demanded everyone in the village once again return to the village square to bear witness to the young man's live execution at Gato's personal hand.
Once again they were all going to see a courageous young man, who dared to stand up against Gato's tyranny, die.
This was no rumor. It was an ugly truth said in ridicule to the fate of that young man the crab fisherman had never met.
And amid the rise of heat and noxious clouds pouring out overhead of that young man's prison, the prison of so many others like him who had been abducted for torture, abuse, harassment, and blackmail…
"I'm tired."
It had been the muttering of one man.
But those were the resonating words felt in the hearts of those watching the sight of Gato's ugly knife being attacked by some unknown party.
Emotions long since dimmed at the suffering wrought by a midget who licked his lips devilishly at all the sorrow and pain he inflicted to feed his greed, grew a faint heat.
One of those ugly-faced thugs sneered his way.
"Ehhhh? Ya say something, you stupid-!"
"I'm tired."
Those words were said firmly this time. The snarl on his face grew wider until it stretched across his face and his shoulders shivered. He felt a long-forgotten pain peak from his battered core that only strengthened the tight grip on his fists. His entire body felt hot as if the very flames crawling over Sector-D had entered his veins.
Tired.
So.
Damn.
Tired.
Tired of standing aside as he let those monster have their way with their home, steal their friends and children for ransom, molest their wives and daughters to sate their lust, take their hard-earned money to appease their lord, kill everyone they hold near and dear to their hearts, take their homes to make as theirs, torture villagers for games and fun, paint the streets with red with giggles and leers, leave their dead friends out to be fed by wild animals, treat them as sub-humans not even worth anything more than violence…
"I'm tired, so fucking tired. I'm sick of being tired of you bastards doing whatever the fuck you want!"
That balled fist snapped open wide.
And reached for one of the crab traps that had been beside his feet. The very one that had once caught two crabs before one of those demons threatened to carve his face unless he gave him the small haul he caught with his own worn-out hands.
Before the angered thug could react, that wired cage was swung in a wide arc at the bald man's face. The thug hadn't had any time to react to the attack as the metal caught the very edge of his surprised eyes. Those delicate whites and brown iris tasted metal.
Moist tissue was sheared by rough, rusted edges.
A sickening scream of agony echoed throughout the streets.
There was no retaliation from the dirty-faced thug as he desperately gripped at his wounded eyes. Blood could be seen trickling past his fingers. Between the fingers of the thugs trembling hands, a seething glare was seen on those orbs that were torn through like jelly by a knife.
Whatever foul curse he had on his tongue was cut off by the next savage swing against his temple.
The third swing caused a dry clack to be heard from the screaming man's face.
The fourth swing knocked him off his feet as he felt the world swim and he felt sick from the pain.
And the final swing caused the world to grow black and silent.
Beads of dark ruby red dripped from the shivering cage and plopped onto the dirt.
An ordinary man who had been crushed by an oppressive demon of greed stood up straight. That man grit his teeth until heard them groan. And like a few other tired adults, he turned his battered and once colorless eyes to those stunned and frightened horned monsters.
If it's important to you, why not fight with your all to protect it?
Forgotten words thumped into his empty chest.
And something invisible slithered into his fist and grew into a blazing inferno that fueled his charge at those once frightening demons.
[-]
It was difficult but somehow despite the incredible pain he was in, Touma remained conscious.
Once again those frigid waters of the abyss greeted him, all the more eager to drag him into the depths of a bad end. An unpleasant sweat coated his face, dripping off his face as his heavy eyelids struggled to keep open. He felt an intense throbbing in his abdomen from the metallic shard slicing through skin, muscle, fat, and blood vessels. Of all his wounds, it was that one lucky shot fired by the now-deceased cackling sadist known as Waraji that was causing him the most agony. None of the wounds he had collected thus far compared to the three-inch katana shard nicking something inside his body.
But…in a den of demons, a small world created by a greedy mole-faced man who cherished money over the smiles of people, where dozens more were suffering without anyone to hear their pleas for help…
Warmth.
Three warm bodies embraced the spiky body who found red slithering from the corner of his mouth. He felt hot tears soaking into his already bloody, torn, and filthy dark blue vest. The shaking forms of those girls who had been imprisoned in rusted cells where sneering men with eyes of lust reached for them, disguised his own painful tremors.
Though the smile on Touma's face was strained and bloody, it did not so much as dim in the shadow of this cruel enclosed world molded by oni.
'Just...a little longer.'
He could feel whatever adrenaline he summoned from subjecting himself to intense pain and a flash of rage slipped through his shivering fingers laid on the back of who he believed was Boshi's wife.
'Not yet!'
The sliver of strength was roughly dragged back as he clenched his hand into a tight fist.
Fading blue eyes regained their bold and steely light as he took a labored breath.
There was still far too much to do. If he wanted to pass out in a pool of his blood, he could do so once he completed what he had come here to do.
Something unbelievable gentle and kind was entrusted to this secondary character who didn't belong to this story. That invisible kindness had protected this violent child from being colored by the despair and malice of this murky hell. That hopeful spark was light, the only beacon guiding him back. When he felt infuriating, sinister, and malicious fangs gnaw at his heart, the feelings pulsing in his battered fist had protected him.
Because he returned the invisible spark to where it rightfully belonged, he had fulfilled part of that man's wish.
His eyes wandered over to the other cells where he found many more unfortunate villagers imprisoned in horrific conditions. A few of those prisoners were without clothes. A few of them were beaten. A few of them struggled to move due to the torture they were subjected to. All alive but lacking the will to so much as beg a random stranger to save them.
It was no longer a rescue mission for the lives of three people.
How many more fathers, mothers, siblings, children, friends, were crying for the return of their loved ones? How many of these poor villagers had lost their voices from calling out for someone to save them from this nightmare? Just how many people had lost their lives with hopes to be pulled out of this hell?
No more.
Gathering his dwindling strength, Touma carefully pushed those girls back. He offered their anxious and teary expressions a warm smile, promising them he wasn't going anywhere.
But they sure as hell would be leaving this shit hole.
He took another deep breath to steady his quivering nerves.
"Listen, we-!"
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.
It hurt to the point his voice was robbed of him as he felt a sudden intense pain spear his abdomen from the throbbing shard nailed dangerously close to his organs. Briefly, a blank white flash blinded his senses as a muted ring sliced his thoughts. Fire burned at the clogged hole, searing his nerves as he struggled to breathe.
Briefly, he saw pitch-black waters devour his vision and numb all his senses. The dreadful numbness fell away once his knees hit the dirt floor of the rusted cell. Blood-stained teeth were clenched to the point he heard a groan. Whatever strength he had was now being utilized to hold his screams from his insides being scrapped by a sharp thorn.
"D-D-Damn i-it! Not...n-not now!"
Sounds of distress were heard by those prisoners who were watching as their savior collapsed on his knees with blood spurting from his stomach. The mother of the two girls, Boshi's wife, frantically moved closer to Touma before sitting on her knees to inspect the wounded boy's injuries. Frantic hands wandered over his form, searching for the critical spot at cause for his pain. Against his wishes, she moved the torn fabric of his shirt crusted with blood around to find what she was searching for.
She grimaced at the sight of the wound. Metallic gray greeted her, dug deep into Touma's side, plugging up the beads of crimson slipping from the hole. It seemed it was in the process of clotting in order to seal the wound's precious red fluids but the constant movement continued to hamper the healing process before it could even begin. She spied the faintest hint of fat in the dark red mesh; how deep was the wound?
"Dear kami-sama, the steel's the only thing keeping the sliced blood vessels from pouring out. The very thing that's responsible for the wounds is also the only aid you have. The edges of the shard are pressing against the torn vessels; judging by the shape and size of the wound, I'd suspect that removing it would cause both internal and external bleeding. Judging by the location of the blade, it's only cutting through muscle and fat but still dangerously close to hitting a vital organ by an inch: your liver. How are you even coherent right now?" the mother fussed in frustration.
Touma blinked dumbfounded at the accurate analysis from the woman who had moments ago been sobbing into his chest like a terrified six-year-old. He recognized the professionalism, the way she had felt around his body with a firm yet soft touch, and the sudden calm yet cool gaze in those dark eyes wet with tears. As a troublesome boy who found himself in back alley fights, he was accustomed to such people and recognized the type of aura they possessed no matter their appearance.
"Are you a doctor?" Touma winced from a slight tap of the blood shard.
The mother nodded absently with a grim frown while further inspecting the red hole, "Before I married Boshi-kun long ago, I use to be the assistant to our village's doctor. I retired from my job when my second daughter, Kiku-chan, was born but still remember plenty from my experience. We can talk later though. We have to do something about this wound before it becomes infected."
Touma fell silent.
"Would...would whatever you have in mind require me to stay still for more than a few minutes? Would you need me to stop moving at all? Would whatever treatment I'd be subjected to leave me unable to do anything more than lay back and groan?"
"I don't possess the proper tools to treat you. Whatever I can do to treat your grievous wound would surely be far more painful to you but nonetheless provide you some relief. You'll have to lay still for quite some time; I have a small first-aid kit on my person those filthy bastard's hadn't taken." the brunette prisoner said with an unhappy smile on her dirty face, "They were far too busy feeling me up and attempting to rip my clothes off to bother with searching me for any kind of weapons. I don't have much other than some gauze, bandages, tweezers, clean wipes, and safety pines but it should be just enough to at least cover up the open wounds. But..."
Touma inhaled deeply and swallowed the tremor in his voice as he spoke lowly.
"You won't be able to remove the katana shard, will you?"
Unbearable pain continued to assault him at every word. What medical knowledge he had gleaned from his frequent trips to the hospital surfaced to clear the air in his hazy thoughts. There would be no relief to this beaten and bloodied boy who was losing strength with every passing moment.
Removing a piercing object from the body was the worst action one would take. It was a common mistake any amateur would make if one were to find themselves with a sharp item inches deep in their stomach. As the former nurse at his side said: the metallic shard was currently acting as a cork to the lovely deep red wine stored inside. Sharp edges cut against blood vessels and veins, firmly pressed against his twitching muscles to ensure said damaged cells weren't further ripped apart.
This was no ordinary wound. The katana shard was jagged, a broken fang with numerous crooked and ugly edges. It wasn't any different than a snake's fang. If it was carelessly pulled out, yanked out, it would tear open an even more gruesome wound. There would be nothing left to stem the blood flow from gushing out like a burst dam. He would only be foolishly accelerating his own death.
The brunette woman shook her head, eyes cast down reluctantly as Touma couldn't help but smile grimly.
Just his luck.
"I appreciate it; I really do. But even if you could do anymore, we don't have the leisure. We're running against the clock right now. At any moment those horned onis will come scrambling in."
It hurt.
But Touma stood back up on his weak legs regardless.
A dreadful pressure squeezed at his shuddering heart. Even in his heavily damaged state, he heard it.
Voices.
"What's that sound?! Are we under attack?"
"Shit! We've got three guards taken out! Did someone snap their necks?"
"Where the hell is Zori?!"
"He was watching over the prisoner we're planning on executing publicly later! Do you think they got to him first?"
"Stop asking questions and go see! We need to know what to do!"
The ebbing atmosphere of hope in the air was savagely torn apart by those angry and panicked voices heard faintly outside the walls of the many cells. Horned savages stomped the ground. Sick and twisted faces would arrive with eyes burning with humanity's darkest intentions.
Those tormented and abused prisoners trembled with tears threatening to spill from their faces. Flashes of terror engulfed them to the point many of them fell back and hugged their battered knees like children desperately hiding from the creatures lurking beneath their beds. Whimpers and cries were heard as those demons approached.
Fear returned. The nightmare had yet to end.
Whatever composure the brunette former nurse had mustered withered away as she stepped back. Her face contorted in terror and panic at those lustful onis who had gleefully grabbed her chest, licked her cheek, and had threatened to subject her lovely daughters to being treated as objects to be toyed with. Her hands immediately shielded her whimpering girls.
They were going to be beaten. They were going to be molested. They were going to be subjected to all manner of cruelty. They were going to be used again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again until they were unfit to be used again. No one was safe. They were all just objects. Pieces of stolen goods offered up on a platter by some golden idol and his army of demons from hell.
Lights found only in the mirrors of the human soul grew dim in the face of such terror. No hope could be found in the dead eyes of those who knew only suffering and despair in an island prison.
"I told you, didn't I?"
A single voice spoke up. Rough, weak, and strained yet firm with resolve that shouldn't exist in one so beaten.
"I'll save you. No matter what...I'll save you!"
Someone stepped out of their cage with their fists tightly clenched at their sides.
Touma walked out of the cell of the imprisoned wife and daughters. There wasn't any need to tell any of them to stay back. Their fear of those horned figures ensured they wouldn't leave the only safety they had. Making it all the easier for him to leave.
A trembling hand had reached for his bloody hand nonetheless.
"But what about your wound? If you strain yourself now, it'll only grow deeper and cut your liver! You'll die!"
The brave and kind mother's gesture brought a smile to Touma's face. Soft fingers briefly brushed against his own but lacked the strength to catch him or take a hold of him now.
Touma bit his lip at the diagnosis. He already knew that one wrong move would land him knocking on death's door. And with his low stamina, he wouldn't be able to power through the intense pain again. He might just collapse. And this time, there was no guarantee he would be standing back up.
It didn't mean he could just stand back and do nothing. This wasn't just about rescuing Boshi's family anymore. That invisible gift had led him to far more than three people who were suffering at Gato's hand. There were a good twenty-something more people who had been ripped away from their loved ones. If he ignored them, saved himself, and abandoned them, he wouldn't be able to live with the regret.
Zori was knocked out cold. Pretending that they were all locked away wouldn't work right now. The guards would begin to question everyone here to hear what had happened. They would threaten whoever was weakest, hurt whoever was fragile, and kill whoever wouldn't speak. Doing nothing would doom them all.
Fighting was the only option. All he ever had to solve whatever problem he was confronted with were his fists. He wasn't a shinobi who could perform supernatural feats that would do far better than his right fist ever could against multiple opponents. His only choice was to clench his fist and attack with everything he had.
Even if it meant one punch would further put his life at risk.
So he sucked in a sharp breath, squared his shoulders, stepped out of the girls' cell to take a few steps ahead, and faced forward to meet the open door of the cell passageway. His eyes narrowed as it didn't take long for two burly guards carrying curved swords to show themselves in.
"Tch, one of the pieces of trash got out!"
"Is that Zori? Was he knocked out by one guy? Goddamn it! Gato's going to be pissed!"
"We can worry about that later! The spiky-haired boy's got the cell keys in his hand. Kill him before he frees everyone else! We can't have the prisoners freed when everything else has gone to shit!"
Those sharp blades were brandished by both muscled guards with dark grins. Tools designed for death stared down an ordinary spiky-haired boy with a fatal glint. Touma swallowed anxiously, readying himself to deal with two sword-wielding opponents.
Simply rushing in with a chambered fist wouldn't do him any good here. In a match of rock-paper-scissors, what he played would come down to rock against paper. Sharp paper. He had been dealt a losing hand by all accounts.
But that had never stopped him before.
The first to move was the guards, rushing forward together like twin spearing bulls released from their pen. Due to the passageway being wide enough for two to three people there was no room to properly dodge. Unless Touma gained a gymnast's acrobatics, he would have to meet those blades head-on and hope for a miracle. One that wouldn't fall upon this cursed boy.
To the shock of those who hadn't collapsed in fear and watched the scene, the spiky teen kicked off from where he stood with a roar on his lips to charge at those bandits. It was a suicide run. A move leading to a painful death. Many who watched shut their eyes and cried.
Blades as long as a yard were swung down from above upon the spiky head of a bloody boy.
A clang of steel was heard with a powerful echo.
"What?!"
Rusted metal bars met blocked those killing instruments from so much as nicking one of Touma's spikes.
Just before those strong-armed goons swung their weapons up in the air, Touma dove for the dirty floor to pick up certain broken cell door. The very thing that had locked him away, that hadn't so much as shivered as he smashed his body against the bars, was hastily grabbed. Kneeling on the floor, he had swung the long rusted shield up to clash with the long blades sailing for his head. Sores muscles swelled to their limit to push the barred door cell against the two blades as Touma stood back up on his trembling feet.
One of his fingers, the middle finger on his right hand, was nicked and bleeding horribly from the shave of those shivering blades.
"GGGGGGGGYYHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
It was a shout of pain mixed with determination. An action to force his body to send more endorphins into his bloodstream so his body wouldn't give out.
Touma glared viciously at those snarling bandits as he fought to push them back.
And then…
His knees buckled beneath the combined might of the demon's swords. Red spurted from various wounds on his person. He was moments away from those weapons doing more than nicking his fingers. Slowly but surely, he was being overpowered.
This was all a high school boy could amount to. It was a melancholic thought.
Even if Touma deflected those swords with a measly cell door, what more could do? His right fist was only well suited for neutralizing supernatural powers. Those brutish goons didn't even need weapons, their bare fists would be enough to put him down in his state. When it came to two opponents, he would always struggle.
All his actions amounted to were dragging his death sentence out.
Or, from the perspective of another, buying time.
The maliciously grinning guards froze just as Touma's arms were about to give out. Stun wide eyes glazed over as the face muscles grew stiff. With nothing more than a disturbing gurgle from both of Gato's men, they collapsed like puppets whose strings were abruptly snipped. Touma nearly tripped from the sudden interruption. He wondered what happened until his eyes fell to the glinting metal on their backs. He'd been in this world long enough to recognize them.
Kunai blades were deeply stabbed into the back of the guard's head, killing them instantly. The small ninja tools were fired with such force, nothing more than a slim line of red seeped from the wounds. It was an instant kill for both of Gato's grunts no matter what part of the brain had been punctured or if their hearts were still beating.
His insides twisted.
"I promised, didn't I? I said I wouldn't abandon you and run off the chance that I got. And it looks like I came back just in time."
From the entrance of the cell block, a familiar voice spoke to the nigh dead on his feet boy. Muscles still tensed, Touma prepared himself to defend against whatever walked into the picture with a right fist to the face.
Kyofu the imprisoned Kumogakure kunoichi quirked her brow at the bloody teen whose very battered appearance reminded her of a wounded but still aggressive wild beast.
The once-naked kunoichi sported a gray sleeve jacket with one long sleeve, a white flat-jacket similar to Kakashi's but cut diagonally across her left breast, a black short skirt sporting her white-clothed Hitai-ate around her waist as a belt, fishnet leggings, and gray sandals. Her dark hair had been fixed to tie some back into a bun at the top of her head, leaving two long curving bangs falling over her ears. Despite the bruises and cuts on her swollen face, the Kumogakure kunoichi was back to her original glory after a week of being stripped of everything.
It took the full reveal of her figure out in the open of the dank prison cell before Touma's shoulders relaxed. It was only now that the two cellmates had been free from the small space where they could hardly fit that the two could actually get a good eye of the other. High school boy Touma lightly blushed at the taught-bodied dark-skinned woman he had seen fully naked.
Kyofu grimaced softly.
'How? How the hell is he still standing?' Did the boy even realize his entire frame was shivering?
"Apologies for the wait, Kamijou-san. I would have made it back sooner if it wasn't for all the commotion going on outside. All of Gato's men are running around like chickens without their heads right now, so I had to take a few out before I was spotted. Guessed I missed a few since you were about to deal with them." Kyofu casually explained as she reached for the knives embedded in the grunt's skulls.
She paid no mind to Touma's disgruntled expression as she cleaned off the blood from her weapons. A top-notch kunoichi knew better than to leave weapons behind just because of a little red or brain matter. One had to be resourceful in these instances where she was limited.
"Did you...did you really have to kill them?"
Kyofu smiled thinly, "Either them or you. Or better yet; them or everyone else. Trust me, as someone who had been abused by these demon's hands, whose had to see them play with people despite their tears and pleas, they deserved far worse than this."
Color her surprised. She hadn't been expecting such a naive and soft thought from someone as splattered in red as the boy who broke her out. If anything she would have thought that the boy would stomp his heel in the dead men's faces. She wouldn't have stopped him if he so much as spit on their lifeless faces.
What sounded as if the earth was being hammered by constant detonations caused a faint tremor below their feet. Sounds of what Touma could guess were bombs going off on the outside continued for several more minutes, scaring the prisoners who could only continue cowering in their cages. He frowned anxiously at what the strange uptick of loud activity meant for them.
"What's going o-GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!"
Searing heat ruthlessly lanced through his side. Touma's vision flickered as he held back a scream through his teeth.
"Kamijou-san!"
Face plastered with cold sweat, Touma could no longer keep standing, let alone keep a tight grip of his fist. He fell to his knees and would have collapsed on his stomach if he hadn't caught himself. His breathing grew strained, his eyes stung from the sweat rolling down his face, and the world itself swayed. His mind was growing fuzzy, scrambled, and disjointed as his hearing couldn't even make out who had shouted his name.
'M-My a-arms.'
A chilling sensation stopped his heart with fright.
His left arm hung limply at his side, refusing to budge no matter how hard he tried to force them up. And his right...
Beneath the special appendage, unseen chaos wriggled.
The terrifying realizing caused him to frantically stand up only for his legs to wobble. He would have fallen to the hard floor if it wasn't for who guessed was Kyofu catching him by the shoulder.
'Am I...am I going into shock?'
"Oi, take it easy, Kamijou-san. Just about all the guards in this camp are busy dealing with whoever has been taking out their men before I got out. I've just been dealing with a few stragglers. Which means we can take care of those open wounds you've ignored." she said tensely.
Touma's eyes fluttered as he fought to stay awake, "W-What about everyone else? I got to l-let them out!"
What did it matter if he was ready to break down like some shitty piece of junk? Just how long had everyone else in this hell hole been suffering when compared to him? How many times had they been hurt and left to wallow in their own misery? He could care far less about his little boo-boos when there were people locked up without even the strength to cry out for help!
Eyes fluttering rapidly between the conscious world and grim darkness, Touma tried to brush away the helping hand.
Another hand landed on Touma's shoulder from the brunette woman leaving her cell alongside her daughters. Kyofu relaxed, recognizing her as a non-threat as the dark brown-haired woman helped her force Touma down before he opened his wounds any further.
"Don't worry about everyone else, Kamijou-san. You've done enough for us all, so lay back and let me do what I can to patch up your injuries. I just wish I had more than a small case of bandages and needles."
The brunette woman lamented in frustration as she began to remove the raggy dark blue vest to better deal with what she could.
"Here."
A hand size ninja scroll was handed to the surprised woman from a stern-faced Kyofu. Feeding it a bit of chakra, the Kumogakure ninja rolled it out beside Touma's trembling body to release various first-aid equipment with a puff of smoke.
"Every ninja makes sure to never leave for a mission without a first-aid scroll in case they're wounded at any time. It's all I can do since I lack the ability to perform medical ninjutsu to give him a quick fix. I also lack the medical knowledge to do any more than dress his wounds. From the looks of it, you know what you're doing, so I'm leaving the heroic idiot in your hands."
The brunette woman didn't need to be told twice, gesturing for her nervous daughters to help as she went to work.
Touma groaned as he squirmed beneath the sensation of burning liquid poured onto a few of his wounds, "W-What about everyone...else?" he gasped with sweat running his dirty pale face.
Kyofu shook her head ruefully at the stubborn boy before reaching for the keys he was clutching onto. Those battered and red fingers were tight like a deadman's grip, refusing to let go until she gently pried them off of the stubborn hero. Did he even feel his fingers at this point?
"Don't worry, I'll unlock their cells to give them some breathing room. But right now, this is the safest place we can lay low in. Whatever is going on outside this compound is taking all the attention off us but making it harder for us to leave at the same time. Until the heat dies down, we'll have to wait it out. And if anyone dares to give us more trouble, I'll just snap their necks." she winked.
Not exactly the most comforting of words but it wasn't like Touma could say anything back as his entire body throbbed under the intense pain. He felt a clump of cotton wet with alcohol dab his cuts to prevent any infection from arising in this filthy environment, instantly draining whatever fight he had left to keep going. He bit his lips to stop from crying out as his vision was swallowed by small rapid flashes.
Then he felt a soft hand touch the jagged metal shard in his sides.
"GGGGGGGGGYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Kyofu patted the dark spiky-haired boy's head as his entire body arced from the procedure he was being put through without the aid of drugs. The intense spike of pain bent his body like a straw as his pupils shrank and his eyes snapped unbelievably wide. His limbs jerked spontaneously as if he was were going into shock. Per their mother's strict instructions, the anxious daughters held Touma's arms down as the medical expert began to treat the most grievous of his injuries.
Reaching for her weapons pouch, Kyofu gestured for Touma to open his mouth and bit down on the grip of a clean kunai. Last thing they wanted for the boy was to swallow his tongue.
The Kumogakure kunoichi left their hero in the hands of the dark brown-haired nurse so that she could finish what the boy had come here to do. Muffled guttural shouts of pain continued as if he was being tortured by the most wicked of inhumane tricks interrogators had at their disposal. Such sounds were a common noise a veteran kunoichi as herself had grown accustomed to long ago.
A groan could be heard from the hand wielding the prison keys.
It was a wonder they hadn't caused an uproar from the other prisoners. She would have thought they would all be shouting in excitement at the prospect of being released. Instead, they were all staring at Touma with worry as he was held down by the woman's daughters. Those once listless and broken humans were mutely gazing upon the random child who had wandered into the den of fiends and monsters, whose words had lit something in their hollow chests trampled by despair and had shown them a kind smile.
All these prisoners were going to be freed. Thanks to a boy who must have suffered at the hands of their captors to the point of near-death- those who had lost count of how long they were imprisoned and treated as products to be sold or abused were going to feel their shackles disappear. Those ugly and oppressive bars would open.
All because someone had stood up to Gato as a certain deceased championed hero had.
Kyofu knew this wasn't the end. The finish line was still a way away. But it was in sight. There still laid several more obstacles to their freedom. And what would still remain as prisoners free to walk the land of an idol of avarice? Gato still remained in control and he could easily capture those stolen goods if he so desired. What sounded like a small war of attrition caused the walls within the compound to tremble by some unknown threat.
She held her tongue.
The cynical, blood-stained, hardened, survivor of war, zipped her tight lips at those minuscule glimmers of hope.
For now, she would simply do what that heroic boy had desired but lacked the strength to do.
[-]
Outside the clustered compounds of Sector-D, a small war was indeed being waged.
Waged by a loud and annoying army of animate orange jumpsuits.
"Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"
"There's more of him?! What the fuck kind of OP bullshittery is thi-GYAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
"So much orange! My eyes, my eyes! I can't seeeeeeeeee!"
"They're just a couple of loudmouth brats! Just kill them already!"
The largest of the bandits shouted his orders out with a livid face painted red. He heaved the steel club adorn with razor thorns with one hand above his head and prepared to slam it down onto the blond whiskered-faced boy running straight for him. He grinned viciously as he slammed it down, crushing the boy's skull in a splatter of bone, brain matter, and gore.
His victory was short-lived as the headless boy's body poofed out of existence. His eyes flew open in disbelief before another spiky-blond boy took the clone's place with a fierce grin. The Konoha ninja ran up the length of his long club, using it as a platform before smacking him with a lashing leg swipe. It didn't end there as more clones followed after the other to smack him around with a barrage of body blows that stumbled him back with every strong blow. By the time the last clone drove their fist into his stomach, he nearly fell back but was stopped by what felt like six feet kicking him forward. Right into the waiting path of what appeared to be the original fox-eyed blond dashing straight at him before jumping high to fly down with a double heel kick.
"Uzumaki Dengeki Rendan(Uzumaki Blitz Combo)!"
The falling clapped heels struck the large muscle-bodied bandit square in the face, dealing massive damage that sent his body crashing back into the ground with a cloud of dirt erupting to consume his body on earth. He was knocked out with a broken set of teeth.
Naruto wanted nothing more than to dance on the spot in victory but knew he had to wait until their job was done to goof off. Once the big guy was out cold, another screaming bandit made himself known with rather cruelly chipped sword in hand. He almost snickered at the poorly choreographed attack seen a mile away.
"Alright, boys! We've got another idiot that thinks he can take on the future Hokage of Konohagakure no Sato! How about we teach him what happens when you bite off more than you can chew! We still got to rescue Touma anyways, so let's put them out as fast as we can!"
"Hai!"
The round of multiple hai's had it and went to work on taking out more of the scrambling bandits running around the current burning compound he was searching through from Sector-D's now battle-scarred streets.
Fumes of smoke could be seen on every building due to the bomb-planted clones erupting in spouts of flames, courtesy of the paper bombs Kakashi had handed out. A total of thirty fox-eyed blonds had scattered about Sector-D and slithered in the shadows of the demon's claimed territory, eagerly awaiting the signal to announce their attacks with explosive cackles. And even though their signal to attack had been interrupted by the unnatural quake, the suicide bombers had all popped in marvelous bellows of searing red and orange-yellow.
Blazing potholes littered the streets. Numerous thugs were strewn about in beaten heaps. Flames crawled about in a hungry desire to consume everything in sight. And, of course, the bright color of orange streaked about the chaos in their pursuit of those once frightening demons who now found themselves being hunted down with no mercy.
As dull and frustrating as Tree Climbing had been, the chakra training exercise had borne some fruit. Despite not completing the goal, the hyperactive blond found his reserves had not necessarily grown but been refined. It felt as if he was unconsciously preserving how much chakra he was pouring into each kage bunshin instead of how he normally poured vast quantities as before. Large as his chakra reserves are, he felt far more stored up in his body than normal if he were to have continued carelessly spending his chakra with each activation of his strongest ninjutsu.
Because of the incomplete training, Uzumaki Naruto, the Dead last of Konoha Academy's Ninjas, who could not even perform a simple Henge no Jutsu required to graduate the shinobi training program, now commanded a small band of clones to bombard a small section of a village with explosives.
Many of those instructors of the academy who once sneered at him or mocked him as a failure would have probably paled and shivered in fright at the scene.
An hour ago, Naruto had been once again falling off the stubborn bark of the tall tree he had been assigned to climb without the use of his hands. Sakura's advice had helped in getting farther than he had originally made it on his first day but he felt he was hitting a wall right now. The furthest he could climb with his feet was just barely half of the tree's base. It was seriously starting to piss him off! The only thing to hold him over during this boring exercise was knowing that Sasuke was having just a hard time as Naruto.
That smug-faced pretty boy wasn't any farther than the dumbest ninja of their class! What an idiot!
Lunch had been nearing, so Naruto thought it would be as good a time as any to stop here for a moment for a bite to eat. If he remembered correctly, Tsunami had said that she would have some tasty riceballs ready for them by the time the afternoon came. Even that dirty-faced arrogant bastard Sasuke had the same idea as he cleaned himself off and glanced Naruto's way.
But before either could insult the other for 'giving up' so early in the day, besides the fact they were both going off to replenish their low stamina with food, Sakura had come running in with a panicked expression. She didn't wait for either of them to question what was wrong, quickly explaining to them the situation as she had them running after her back to Tazuna's house.
One frantic explanation later involved the strange foreign boy known as Kamijou Touma running off to one of Gato's nearby bases and Team-7 led by Kakashi was dashing past the village streets for Sector-D.
When they had brought Tazuna back, the old bridge builder was busy comforting a sobbing Tsunami who was pleading for Kakashi to save Touma. Apparently, she had been with him shopping for tonight's dinner when one of Gato's men had been causing trouble with a few villagers. Stricken by fear, many of them had run to hide in the market they were visiting, alerting them to screams of a beating happening outside. Touma hadn't been able to ignore what was happening and asked the store owner to watch over Tsunami so he could run out and stop the thugs.
Not much was known after that on Tsunami's part. All she knew was when she had been safely led home with the help of a few of the people she knew, was that a few of Gato's men were leaving with the knocked-out bodies of their coworkers. Whether Touma was among them wasn't known.
Kakashi had gone on to explain that Touma was most likely alive due to his Kage Bunshin discovering the older boy running straight for Sector-D, a portion of the village that housed the floodgates and been taken over with compounds for Gato's company. But from what his clone had seen, their new friend had probably been taken prisoner due to his wounded state.
Meaning a rescue operation was in order. Even if they were supposed to be laying low as not to draw the ire of Gato's attention sooner than needed, they couldn't ignore their new companion being captured after all he had done for them. Touma still had much to teach this naive Naruto on the wonders of archetypes to better improve his Oiroke no Jutsu!
And they had made it just in time to overhear a certain billionaire leaving Sector-D's gates speaking. From their cover in the tree's foliage, they discovered the short man's plan for a public execution he would be setting up for sunset later today, spitting out complaints about an ungrateful spiky-haired villager who didn't understand a good deal when he was offered one.
Naruto had nearly leaped out of the trees to press a kunai against the greedy mole-faced man's face then.
Not since he had faced the jeering instructor known as Mizuki, who had revealed the truth to Naruto's status as jinchuriki and the village's hatred for his existence, had he tasted the revolting splash of blood lust.
Kakashi though had held him back, telling them all to wait until Gato had left to wherever his main base was for preparations. Now wasn't the time to draw attention that might put Touma's life at risk. They needed to plan out their attack carefully to minimize the damage and risk. An open attack now would be no different than declaring war. But if they followed his strategy there would be no need for things to escalate that far.
Not as long as Gato understood that any attack on his part in the form of retaliation would be pointless after the utter decimation of one of his closest compounds had been razed in a matter of a few hours. In other words, a warning to the arrogant queen bee of what would happen to her hive if they decided to bristle the feathers of the raven's flock.
Many of said poor victims were rather stunned to find such a bright orange-themed ninja with blond-spiky hair leap out at them from out of nowhere before bursting in violent roars of fire. With such a color scheme on a shinobi, you'd think Naruto would have been caught earlier.
As if! Even garbed in colors this awesome, he could escape capture from skilled Chuunin level shinobi in broad daylight!
Naruto's instructions were rather simple. Enough for the overly excitable and idiotic shinobi to follow through with no possible errors.
Create a small army of clones(upwards of thirty) with each individual stamped with a Kibaku Fuda(Explosive Tag) upon their chests. Upon creation of said kamikaze children- Kakashi would smirk to themselves for reasons he only understood, spread the ticking time bombs in various locations. At the signal, detonate each explosive blond to create hysteria, panic, confusion, and fear to the unsuspecting bandits who relied far too much on their bulk numbers than actual combat experience or talents.
Shake the beehive with loud noise and smoke. Force those simple-minded drones who believed themselves all mighty to leave their stations.
And attack. Show no mercy to those who would wet their lips with the tears of despair shed by the innocent.
With the capability to spam more clones even after unleashing the suicide bombers, Naruto was tasked with the all-important job of searching the compounds of the prison camp for his fellow spiky-haired friend as Kakashi and the rest of his team went about to keep those panicking bandits focused on them.
Drop kicking another thug frantically swinging at him with two swords, the spiky blond jinchuriki swiveled his head in search of any more enemies out in the open. No, it looked like they were all taken out. Weird, he could have sworn there were more.
Seriously, just how weak were these bastards? Weren't they grown adults for crying out loud? Each one of those bandits, thugs, thieves, and criminals employed by Gato had appeared intimidating with their large weapons and deep voices shouting threats his way. But not a one had done more than destroy a few clones, and that was due to swarming them with large numbers like hornets would a prey.
Standing in the battle scar streets full of smoking potholes, crawling flames, and groaning full-grown men, Naruto crossed his arms in puzzlement.
Had he grown stronger, or...were these so-called demons simply weak, to begin with?
"Eh, it's probably because I'm so awesome." Naruto sniffed proudly in the wake of his defeated enemies.
Sadly this was no time to be basking in his own glory. Face set sternly to the true goal of his mayhem, the blond numskull shinobi put his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly.
This was his signal to his own one-man team of talented, cool, handsome, and gallant ninjas who could totally become Hokage of their village if a certain pervy old man kicked the bucket due to a nosebleed.
"ATTENTION! FRONT AND CENTER, BOYS! UZUMAKI SQUADRON, REPORT FOR DUTY!"
Leaping in from multiple corners of Sector-D, exact copies of Uzumaki Naruto answered the call of their creator. Each with wide foxy grins upon their faces as they saluted playfully.
"HAI, SIR!"
Due to lacking any way to communicate with his brothers, Naruto had set up a signal for his kage bunshins to gather them back as they searched the surrounding buildings for a special prisoner known as Kamijou Touma.
If one questioned him how he had found the time to tell his doubles of their signal, he would tilt his head naively and say they all just knew beforehand since they were him. Never once putting together any possible thought about his clones being anything more than drones capable of passing any knowledge back to him without being instructed.
"Alright, what's the word? Did any of you find any hint of Touma being caged up anywhere nearby?" Naruto asked his small band of mischievous brothers.
"Nah. Only found more of those assholes with what looked like hordes of food. It looks like a bunch of stolen goods originally meant for the village. Sasuke-teme was close by, so we beat them all up; I totally beat up more than duckhead."
"I got nothing. I took out a few thugs but came out empty. Is it wrong to steal their wallets if we beat them up?"
"All I found were some livestock. To add more chaos, I let all the pigs, cows, chickens, and cattle go. You should have seen the faces on those bastards faces! I think one of the roosters mauled a guy to death with a cockle-doodle-do...Is that funny, or messed up?"
"I've been paint bombing every compound where I've failed to find Touma. Pretty sure I've caused some of those thugs to fear orange; heh."
"I couldn't find Touma anywhere. I did find the outhouse where they did their business. Threw a couple of those thugs inside, had a few other of us Naruto's shake them up then proceeded to lit it on fire. None of them died but they did run off smelling like burning shit."
Naruto tapped his foot with an approving nod to the antics of his clones, his eyes knitted like the very demon fox he imprisoned inside his stomach. As proud he was of the deeds, none had found the so-called normal dark spiky-haired teen. He bit the inside of his cheek, growing anxious with each passing minute that they failed to locate their friend.
"Maybe I should have kept one of these guys awake?" Naruto mumbled, "I mean, searching every building in this place takes time I can't waste. Kakashi-sensei wants us done before word of the attack reaches Gato for maximum damage to the midget's psyche."
Where would someone like Gato put a prisoner? All the compounds looked the same. None of them appeared distinct or special from the other. What had once been a section of the village where woodcutters lived and maintained the floodgates had been transformed into a camp for those thieving bastards to frolic about with a knife held at the village's throat. In all their searching, they hadn't come upon any others besides Gato's hired arms. Not a prisoner in sight.
Were they all crammed into one specific compound? If so, where? It had to be somewhere easy to access, right? Or had the greedy bastard thought twice about leaving such an important place out in the open? Had he known better and thought it would simply goad the villagers who had their loved ones kidnapped into breaking in?
Naruto sighed in frustration before clapping his cheeks with a firm scowl.
No point moping about his progress amounting to little more than adding more fuel to the fires. Kakashi-sensei and the rest of his team were busy luring the bandits to them in order to cut down their numbers. Unless it involved crossing out another compound lacking their friend's whereabouts, he had to focus solely on turning over every stone for that odd older boy.
Kamijou Touma wasn't a member of Team 7. He wasn't a villager from Konohagakure no Sato. He was no more than a stranger who butted in matters involving shinobi. He had no place here and was no more than a nobody who couldn't even use any form of ninjutsu or weapon to fight.
But that seemingly normal older boy had saved Sakura from being so much as scratched by the Demon Brothers. He had stepped in when the young ninjas had cowered to the overwhelming killing intent of a killer who made those earlier threats seem nothing more than toddlers. He had fought alongside them, providing them the courage to face one of the ninja world's most proficient killers renown as The Demon of The Mist, and had given them the opening to score a win over the blood-shrouded beast. With just his fist, a random boy landed a clean hit on an ex-shinobi who even Kakashi-sensei had struggled against.
Someone kind found themselves putting his life at risk for people he had never met without being compensated for the blood he shed. And he was currently locked away to be executed simply for sticking his neck out for others.
Naruto balled his fists with fury simmering beneath his skin.
That...that wasn't the kind of world he desired. That wasn't the kind of world he believed awaited him outside the walls of even the village that treated him as some pariah for keeping a beast sealed inside his body without his say. Where a friendly boy gave out a hand without reward or a plea for help and died because he wanted to protect others. He refused to accept such an unfair reality.
"Don't stop searching. Even if we have to raze everything to ash, we have to find Touma!"
They were models of a young boy who had been shunned by the world. Talent-less brats who were scoffed at as jokes. Miscreants were said to see everything as a joke.
Within the hearts of those clones was a resonating desire. One born in the need of rescuing an older boy who had befriended this demon child who had known only loneliness.
"HAI!"
Orange streaks leaped into action and raced in search of their friend.
Naruto tightened his headband with a fierce grin.
"You're not the only one who can play the hero, dattebayo!"
[-]
Touma's consciousness repeatedly flickered in and out.
His entire body felt as if it had been set afire. The sensation of incredible heat crawling over his battered body was irritating and made him want to scratch at his wounds until blood was caked beneath his fingernails. His breathing was labored and his mouth was dry with the taste of blood causing him to grimace as he laid down on the dirty cell floor. A small needle pocked at his body multiple times. He felt thin polymer thread threaded through the worst of his open wounds.
Once the unnamed brunette woman finally went to work on his side, treating the katana shard dangerously close to slicing through some major organ, he had blacked out.
Like a switch in his head had been flipped, he had passed out for who knows how long.
A dark void embraced him. Tendrils of chilling gloom coiled their way to his heart and squeezed. He was afraid he wouldn't wake back up again.
It only now just hit him how fatal his wounds could have been. This was unlike the many times he was injured back in his world. Even when he had been bludgeoned, shot, sliced, dismembered, burned, electrocuted, and broken; even when he passed out from blood loss and pain at the very end of his fights, there had been the smallest of reassurances in the back of his head.
When he would awake again, he would be greeted to those familiar white walls, window-side bed, fresh flowers at his bedside counter, the smell of antiseptic and medicine, and thin tubes connected to his veins. He would wake up to that homely hospital room he called his home away from home. Heaven Canceler would work his scientific magic to bring him back from the brink of death for once again butting his head into other people's business, give him a weary smile, and go off on how if he hadn't been brought to him in time, Touma would have died.
Some way, somehow, no matter where he found himself collapsing after the latest fight with magicians, espers, Skill-Outs, criminals, Touma would be taken directly to that frog faced old man who was highly regarded to save those who were on their last breath and denying them from passing onto the heavens.
But this was different.
This was not the original world Kamijou Touma was born into.
There was no Heaven Canceler to heal his wounds at the end.
Because he was reckless, because he had disregarded his injuries, because he hadn't sought any treatment, because he hoped to absorb all the harmful shrapnel of violence around him, because he hadn't thought twice to receiving any wounds in his fights in order to reach his goal…
CRACK!
A dreadful crinkle of plastic was heard as bloodlust wriggled in a frenzy.
That sound alone was just enough to startle Touma back into the waking world with a deep gasp.
"G-Gwaah?!"
He made a strange noise crossed with choking and taking a deep breath. Immediately he started coughing, writhing in pain as his nerves screamed at him as if to take out their anger upon him. No words could be said as his face twisted deeply from his battered state.
Where was he? Where did everyone go? Were they safe? Was anyone else hurt?
Those questions were spoken but were heard as nothing more than gibberish from the boy who lacked even the strength to form coherent sentences.
A soft hand caressed the side of his face, careful not to irritate the stretching red line nicking his ear. He felt his head guided back to a soft and warm pillow.
"Shh, shh, shh. It's alright, Kamijou-san. Don't panic. There isn't any need to worry, okay? Just lay still for a bit. Your body is still very sensitive right now. You shouldn't be moving, let alone speaking."
What was this strange sensation? It was...familiar? Why was he having the strangest sense of de ja vu? Did someone find some pillows hidden in the cells to prop under his head?
No, wait.
Touma blinked sluggishly. His dark blue eyes caught a kind and nurturing face staring down at his dirty face with a warm aura surrounding them. The woman's face was a bit obscured in thanks to the impressive chest that rivaled a certain courier he fought before, hovering over his vision like bountiful hills.
Lap pillow. An older, busty, nurturing, woman's lap pillow service. Subtle thighs comforted the idiot who gawked at the shadow of a large chest he was in no position to be admiring.
If he was able to blush bright red then it was likely that he wasn't going to be seeing the grim reaper just yet. After all, if his body had the blood to spare for his adolescent hormones then it had enough fuel to keep pushing forward.
"Oh~? Don't tell me the brave hero's gained back some color from something as mundane as a lap pillow? I suppose boys will be boys at the end of the day; no matter how near death they may be."
Difficult as it was to move, Touma inclined his head to find a familiar face.
The foreign kunoichi known as Kyofu stood over both himself and the brunette woman. Next to them, he could finally make out the two daughter's who had once been locked away with their mother only moments ago. And all around them stood the many prisoners stolen away from their homes by Gato's reign.
Some could not stand on their own and required help from those who were still strong enough to move. Others were covered up by rags to shield their modesty as their clothing had been ripped apart by the drooling demons. A few cowered behind the taller prisoners who protected them from the creeping shadows and the sounds of those tormentors crawling behind the walls like roaches. It seemed he wasn't the only one who was treated as Touma made out a few of those villagers were bandaged up and had their broken limbs taken care of with makeshift casts.
Those belittled, used, beaten, sold, and tormented by Gato's men were now free of their cages.
'Good, that's good.'
What more did he have to say other than something as bland and simple as that?
As much as it hurt, Touma attempted to sit up and remove himself from the comfy and lovely lap pillow service. His muscles, joints, and lungs screeched at him to stop.
"Kamijou-san! What did I just say about moving? You're i-"
"We have to go."
His words were stern and strict like an adult speaking down to a child. His very tone took the caring nurse character's voice back and even startled her two daughters beside her. At some point, he would have to apologize to Boshi's wife.
Now wasn't that time.
Gritting his teeth, Touma forced his ready-to-collapse body into a sitting position. The simple action took his breath away and left him leaning over with labored gasps accompanied with sweat once again dripping down his face.
Compared to his near-death state, he was feeling far better.
"Need a hand?"
It was difficult but Touma accepted the hand of the kunoichi ninja to help him back on his feet.
He felt nauseous. Lightheaded and hot to the touch. He was undeniably struck with the beginning stages of a fever ready to snap its jaws into him. He had to blink multiple times to clear away the blurred lines in his vision.
He clenched his fist as tight as he could.
And smiled fiercely.
"Thanks, Kyofu-san. For everything. But I think it's time we started busting out of this shit-hole."
Beneath his tattered remains of what used to be a vest, an ugly mess could be found. A metallic thorn twitched with every action he made and shuddered.
If he could, Touma would have loved nothing more than fore another measly five minutes of rest. It wasn't every day that he was treated to every high school's dream scenario of a lap pillow service by a well-endowed married woman while some dark-skinned foreign beauty stood over him protectively. Rest, no matter how short it was, would do his trembling body some good and help to push him forward.
Kyofu crossed her arms below her chest, eyeing the battered and beaten spiky boy skeptically.
"I'm all for getting the hell out of this place, trust me. I've been here for a good week, beaten daily, stripped of everything while nasty looking creeps felt me up, and left to shit...you know."
Don't ruin this tense situation with such thoughts, sexy kunoichi-chan!
"Everyone here has been through the same crap; even worse." she spat with a grimace before her eyes wandered back to him, eyes showing the hint of concern, "Something is going on out there. I've caught several of Gato's thugs scrambling about in a panic for their weapons and leaving. Only a few are still skulking about while some big battle is going on by some unknown party that we don't know of as being friend or foe. For now, all their attention is centered on that outside attack. We have some time, no matter how small it is, to rest and get our bearings. So-"
"We don't. Trust me, we don't have any time to relax or even think out a proper form of escape from this dungeon. That kind of fortune...it won't be found around me."
Touma spoke those words certainly. There wasn't any doubt to be found.
Because he would always gather misfortune and misery. He would never be so lucky to find any kind of respite without it having to cost him further tragedy or suffering down the line. He knew his lack of fortunes better than anyone else ever could. Savepoints? Resting areas? Healing stations?
Such gentle sanctuaries would never last as long as he remained.
They needed to move. Now. Or suffer even greater consequences.
A thin line could be found on his lips as he stared at those once imprisoned villagers. Many weren't fit to even be standing. They were all either starved, beaten, abused, or traumatized by those unknown days, weeks, months, or years of torture in the name of greed. How any of them had made it even a few steps out without collapsing in tears or breaking down into sobbing messes was beyond him.
None of those poor adults or children were fit for anything more than to wait to be rescued.
This was why Touma inwardly clenched his teeth until felt a creak in his molars.
What he was going to ask was selfish and rotten.
"None of us have that luxury anymore. This is far from over. In fact, it may have been safer to stay inside your cells. By taking a single step out, you've all painted a sinister target onto each of your trembling backs littered with scars. Sharp fangs of steel will chase after you from here on out. Those wannabe demons aren't going to treat you any kinder than before and will do far worse to you."
Many of the prisoners who were freed shivered. Many looked down with their teeth clenched as tightly as his own. He heard children begin to cry. Fear returned to stir the trauma in their hearts.
"I can't protect you all."
Saying those five words out loud nearly crushed his own heart into a bloody clump. It appeared as if those former prisoners were on the brink of collapsing. But…
"So, please, fight with me."
Silence.
A pin could have dropped in the blank silence and no one would have registered it.
Even Kyofu was surprised by his words as her eyes grew wide in disbelief.
Thunderous impacts could be heard from the outside. The ceiling quaked, shaking the hanging light fixtures above like fruit being blown by a coming storm. Sprinkles of sparks drizzled. Shouts of violence could be heard clearly by those remaining thugs who guarded the compound where Nami no Kuni's prisoners were held as goods to be bought and sold. The noise of stomping demons caused many of those haunted villagers to quiver in fear of seeing those nightmarish faces of sadistic glee popping out from the corner.
Touma lifted his balled-up right hand, his eyes revealing loathing and frustration aimed not at them but himself as he released his fist. Cuts, bruises, lacerations, and blood painted his entire hand.
"I don't know what you all think of me. A hero? A savior? A great and powerful warrior? As if. I'm nothing so special. Believe me, I'm no stronger than any of you. I'm not some ninja adept in the mystic arts who trained in the arts of deception. Just like you all, I'm just some ordinary village character whose weak to blunt fists and sharp blades."
His admission of his lack of powers, training, gifts, or talents was one that shocked those terrified villagers. Mouths fell open in utter disbelief and few even shook their heads. A skeptical Kyofu eyed him strangely with a sharp gaze.
But this was the plain old truth.
"I lived my life as normally as you all did. I wasn't raised to be a great and powerful hero to some story involving a demon king. I went to school, I hung out with friends, I cooked for myself and my roommates, I got into trouble for being an idiot, I went out to have fun and search for something exciting to do. I had an ordinary, boring, generic, peaceful life just like you all did. I know, no matter how scared or terrified you all are right now, you want to go back to that sweet and kind life. So, what are you waiting for!?"
That ordinary hand littered with a mess of wounds released a powerful crack as it curled into a fierce fist.
"You aren't sheep waiting to be saved! Your fangs and claws are no more fierce than those lousy demons! Compared to this idiot who can only punch people in the face, you're all far stronger and far more powerful for simply surviving this long! You can fight, you can push yourselves forward, you've all tasted despair, suffered a terrible loss, been abused to the point of nearly breaking but look at yourselves. You're listening, aren't you!? Isn't that proof that you want to stand!? At some point, haven't you said that you've had enough?"
Alone, Touma knew he couldn't protect everyone here. He was on his last legs. This speech was more than just to inspire those cowering villagers to make a stand. This was a means to force his drained body to muster up more adrenaline for another fight. Shouting was scientifically proven to trigger endorphins in the body to provide a natural high when needed. It was an addictive energy boost that helped to alleviate stress and provide some calm.
He was in no shape to fight an entire gang of thugs with swords, knives, clubs, knuckle dusters, spears, or any sort of strange weaponry this new world might conjure up. He had no idea to Kyofu's capabilities as a kunoichi or how much help she could be in her own weakened state. This was a situation he would lose miserably to as someone who never bothered to learn any kind of destructive martial arts style or wield a killing tool.
If he could, Touma would have taken those lousy odds on by himself.
But this time, with his body so messed up, he had no other choice to do something he rarely ever asked.
"Aren't you? Aren't you fed up with this? Aren't you exhausted of this despair? Aren't you sick of having to sit back and let those bastards do whatever the hell they want with your homes? Aren't you troubled by the lingering fear of those creeps abducting your family at any hour of the day? Honestly, aren't you fucking tired of having to accept this misery as a part of your ordinary lives?! Aren't you afraid of allowing yourselves to become numb to misfortune?!"
Those dispirited eyes gave off a pulse like a heartbeat given life. Fresh tears gathered in those exhausted orbs. And lips trembled with words oh so longed to speak.
Yes.
I'm tired.
"I can't protect you all by myself. I can't fight by myself here. But I don't have to. You can do something to shatter this shitty illusion that greedy bastard has forced onto you! I can't complete this dungeon by myself even if I went at it alone for a hundred years. The only chance we have to break out and return to our ordinary lives is if we go at this together. Hero? Helpless villagers? Those labels don't exist! You're all the main characters here! You're not weak and pathetic background characters to be saved by some arrogant and smug cool-faced protagonist! Stop waiting for that generic and tired cliché to save you; you're far stronger and fit for that role!"
If you're tired of the lousy story playing out in front of you, change it.
If you're tired of having to wait for some quirky, cool, calm, talented hero of prophecy to wander over to fulfill some role in your story, take the role.
You are not helpless. You are not some cowering piece designed to be rescued.
Even an ordinary villager can rise up and face the demon king's army by themselves if they decided to.
Those were the meanings those no-name figures who had endured far too much suffering had found in the words of a no-name boy.
What Touma was offering those tired, exhausted, drained, hurt, frightened, and traumatized characters was a pen. A writing utensil to change the story being written without their consent. A tool to change their own labels and become something more.
The smile on Touma's lips was weak and fragile. Yet it held a compassionate gleam that arose something in the dulled eyes of even the most terrified villager.
"If it means a lot to you, if it's something you desire, if it's something you cherish, if it's something you long for; why not fight with your all to protect it? Fight with your all to take back what that greedy mole stole without your consent and protect it from ever being snatched right out of your hands again."
A seafaring man given a feminine name as Umi found his lips trembling.
A gentle seamstress named Yoko clenched her eyes shut.
A tired old woodcutter named Mokuzai clenched his left hand.
A housewife named Anmi with medical knowledge held her shaking fists to her chest.
A pair of sisters named Sumire and Kiku fought to dry their tears.
A tough street thug who once loitered the streets with his gang named Yokunai swallowed a cry.
A great number of faceless characters rediscovered their names as they all felt a burning sensation in their once hollowed-out and damaged chests. Fire surged brightly with an intensity to cull the tendrils of terror threatening to force them on their knees again.
There was no verbal answer.
But those who could fight reached for weapons they could find around them in the form of pipes, filthy metal bowls, and trays, the weapons of the defeated thugs, and took a stand. Young children were moved behind the adults as they did their best to clean up their tears. Several took the role of supporting those who lacked the strength to walk and carried them on their backs. Where there once was a loose circle of cowering figures now stood a thick wall of armed villagers.
They were still scared. Many wanted to stand back and wait to be saved. No one wanted to fight. Some were far too tired and beaten to take arms.
And yet they all faced the dark and foreboding doorway leading them into the path filled with the demons they so feared.
Kyofu found herself speechless to the sudden change. If she wasn't so professional, she would have dumbly gaped at the weak and terrified villagers taking up arms to fight. She had seen them as wounded sheep, quaking in their feet, helpless and unable to do anything more than being led out of the twisted forest where hungry wolves awaited to prey on them.
Never did it cross her mind that those sheep would dare to charge ahead instead of waddling behind a leader.
What had been a rescue mission had evolved into taking part in a prison break.
"Hey, Kyofu. Did you get an idea of where to go in order to leave this dump?"
"Hm?"
Kyofu, startled by the sudden question, turned her attention back to Touma. She blinked at him, unable to say anything as she was still taken back by the sudden change in atmosphere.
She shook her head with a long sigh.
"Seriously, you expect me to believe you're some nobody after a display like that? Give me a break."
"?"
The naive tilt of Touma's head wasn't going to fool her. She smirked in amusement at the act.
"Not really but I'm sure we can beat up some random grunt to spill the beans. You all may see those horned beasts as some kind of unbeatable threat but trust me, they ain't so tough once you start putting up a fight. And against a big crowd like this? They'll snivel and beg for mercy."
The time for crying and despair was over.
It was time for these fed-up prisoners to rebel.
[-]
The memory was blurry, no different than staring out the white land of his home country during a raging blizzard. Bits and pieces flashed him by as his eyes fluttered between the conscious world and the unconscious world. It was difficult to discern what he was seeing with the throbbing ache in his temple.
'You have the skill, the potential to be a great samurai, but you lack the passion to be anything more than a reckless blade. A samurai without bushido is nothing more than a tool for hire, no different than shinobi. Unless you can put aside your own selfish desires, you will never progress beyond your limits. You will continue to be nothing more than average, neither weak nor strong.'
A grizzled voice spoke to him, lecturing him once again for his failure to progress as everyone else had. The cold flakes of snow lazily fell upon his back as he fell on all four limbs, panting tiredly with a snarl on his face. It wasn't the first time he was admonished for lacking the desire to push his body to the point of breaking. He was the only trainee who was said to lack the samurai's spirit despite acing all the physical aspects required to master his swordsmanship. A tempered blade that had been constantly hammered yet refused to take a refined shape.
He was already strong, fast, and quick to draw. What more did they want? Pushing his body any further was pointless. His current abilities were just fine! So, why couldn't they just accept him? He was more than qualified to join them as a full-fledged samurai!
'A samurai is more than just a 'job', boy. It is a tradition dating back to our ancestors who've honored moral code and decency to even our opponents. We are not hired arms willing to sully our blades for monetary gain. We fight for our lord, for our country, and for our strong-held bushido that must never be tainted by the likes of greed. If you've only picked up such a fine blade for the right to make money then you're not worthy of the title of samurai. A samurai without honor, integrity, righteousness, or pride is nothing more than a lowly thug.'
Just what the hell did they expect from him? It wasn't like this was his dream. He never wanted to become a samurai like them. What he wanted was to become stronger, to gain the power to protect himself from those happy to beat up a street urchin for fun, to be seen as worthy of keeping around and fed for his hard work! Why else would he have joined those well-kept and useful metal-platted warriors? As long as he worked hard, grew powerful, and proved himself useful in their eyes, he would be rightfully rewarded for his services as another samurai of their country.
'Enough with these childish games! This is why you lack discipline. You treat things as nothing more than a fun waste of time instead of taking them seriously. Your sword is not a toy. Your training is not a means to an end of your boredom. A samurai doesn't play games or waste their time with such nonsense.'
Honor? Integrity? Pride?
Why would that bushido nonsense be needed if all he wanted was to be given enough worth to be seen as more than a worthless street rat?!
When he had wanted to stop his training, to be hired by someone, anyone, willing to spend whatever they were willing to pay for his services, they had cast him away. A single job that paid a large sum of 20,000 Ryo for taking out a well-known corrupt figure in their land had been the final straw for his sensei. He was labeled a Ronin, a failed samurai with no lord, a thug who was quicker and flashier with a sword than others. He was exiled from his nation for his greedy desires that went against their noble discipline.
It was complete bullshit!
What was wrong with taking advantage of his skills for profit? Shinobi did it and they were far more popular to the dying breed known as samurai. They were old relics that were forgotten and only acquainted with stories of long ago nowadays. Decorative trinkets of yesteryear. If anything they should be taking after their distant brother. So what was wrong with doing as shinobi did to make money for themselves?
A sword was created to kill. He was only following through with the creator's design, unlike his traitorous samurai brethren who were satisfied with keeping them sheathed for decoration. What did it matter if his tool was soaked with blood for the right price? That didn't make him out as some twisted monster like his employers! He was just fighting to survive too!
'Truth is you don't want to face the twisted reality you've helped to cast on this nation by doing nothing. You'd rather tell yourself you're just doing your job, that anyone in your position would do the same if it meant improving their own lives instead of suffering. You tell yourself going against a tyrant like Gato is suicidal, so why not benefit from a situation that's never going to improve and rake some easy money?! All you're doing is denying any reason to feel bad about the lives you've helped to destroy with booze and games to take your mind off your mistakes!'
He...he wasn't making excuses. He didn't have any reason to feel any regret now! Not after coming this far! Wanting to leave behind such a life of poverty no matter the cost so he could have fun wasn't evil! It wasn't as if he could do anything to change this shitty island. What was the point of fighting such a large organization if it wouldn't do him any good for his wellbeing?
Only fools would bet their lives on such a risky gamble.
A face flashed across those jumbled memories of steel and frost.
A man smiled grimly yet proudly with blood slipping from his lips, one eye shut from a severe beating swelling his face but his remaining eye still burning strong in the face of death.
A well-forged blade designed for honorable ceremonies, meant to assure the traditions of those who created the system of bushido remained intact, released a dreadful screech that shaved away at the heart.
What remained of that anxious and cornered core was an empty vessel devoid of humanity.
The air was audibly sliced by the downward crescent blink of silver.
A heart-crushing thud was heard that seemed to echo endlessly. A demon was born.
Because of the gamble he took so long ago, a price was to be paid. One not even the slickest of gamblers could escape.
Fingers curled tightly to an honorable weapon.
That honorable weapon meant to represent honor, integrity, respect, and tradition would find itself going on a bloody rampage. It would soak in the blood of an ordinary champion once again.
[-]
A large hammer fell straight down to crush bone in a gory shower.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
These were not the warrior-like cries of a spiky-haired boy.
These were the cries of an elderly man who had long since retired, charging in with a fierce tackle against the sweating-faced large-bodied thug wielding an industrial-sized bushing hammer for stonework. The elderly man was not alone in his charge.
A young woman who adored picking flowers and herbs ran alongside the old man.
A street punk who knew no better than to steal and cheat rang alongside the old man.
Before the descending hammer could strike, the elderly man broke into the bandit's personal space and threw his hands up to interrupt the swing. The momentary pause by the balding man who appeared to have gone months without food allowed the younger children to throw their bodies against the bulging stomach of the grimacing bandit. What strength they could muster plowed into the bandit's stomach, sending kinetic energy to strike past inches of fat to strike organs.
The brushing hammer fell out of the hoarsely crying man's grip.
The sweet woman who adored flower picking snatched the blunt tool from hitting the floor, tightened her grip over the filthy handle, glared furiously at the wide-eyed bandit who had roamed his pudgy hands over her naked body at a time, sucked in a deep breath, and roared as she swung the tool far back.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
It was a sloppy swing.
Yet cruel hard steel forged to tender stone crashed into one of Gato's hired goons with a sickly crack of bone and snapping tendons. A garbled groan was heard as the horrifically wounded demon hit the ground by the hands of a weak and fragile villager.
A seething gentlewoman who adored flowers and nature shuddered with raw hate. Her hands nearly snapped the wooden pole. A bizarre and sinister smile slowly crept up her face as she slowly raised the brushing hammer high into the air to finish the job.
"!"
A warm and kind hand grasped the young flower woman's forearm. Gentle yet strong fingers squeezed her muscles pleadingly. Malice, watered by abuse and despair, creaked to a far more overpowering emotion. The young woman with deeply brown hair, disheveled in split ends and knots, bit her lips with a whimper.
From behind, a slim thug with scars decorating his face grinned savagely as he aimed to spear the two distracted villagers with a broken metal pipe.
Buzzing metal disks interrupted the cruel thug's spear charge, impacting on multiple points of his skinny body. He didn't even have time to cry out in pain as a dark-skinned woman rammed into his body with an elbow striking windpipe, crushing the fleshy pipe with an audible crunch. He collapsed to the ground with a choked groan.
The broken metal pipe was picked up by the panting kunoichi known as Kyofu.
"Here, take it! Stab at them, swing it at them, scare them with it; I don't care! But don't charge ahead like an idiot without having a proper weapon to fight with!"
The starved elderly old man was given a sharp metal pipe that he held onto with a tight grip.
A kunai was handed over to the street punk whose small street gang was devoured by Gato's greater number of goons and spun with a flashy twirl.
Out in the open hallway of a prison compound, the once frightened and weak villagers now laid claim to the passageway. The wardens and guards who were no more than street-level thugs hiding behind Gato's company and influence were laid about in beaten messes. The hallway was but one of the conquered areas the prisoners had attacked.
A common room for Gato's men to laze about was trashed.
The kitchen area was raided.
A room where female prisoners were taken for torture and abuse was utterly destroyed.
A weapon's storage was picked clean.
A supply room was emptied.
A number of the scattered cells of the compound had been seized.
And what little of Gato's men had been found in those areas had been beaten into the dirt.
In a matter of half an hour, a majority of what had originally been a warehouse turned prison compound had nearly been taken over by the growing number of Gato's prisoners. Those scary-faced thugs now ran away at the sight of the large body of fed up and freed humans they treated as objects to be toyed with. What forces remained were now no doubt cowering behind protection or fleeing. Even the dullest and most arrogant of Gato's men began to understand the change bleeding into the dark halls.
With his hand still holding onto the shivering flower adoring young woman wielding a brushing hammer, Touma slowly eased the conflicted woman's arm met his attempts to stop what would be murder.
He was exhausted.
Simply holding back a woman who lacked any muscles was too much for him. He felt his arm cry out and numerous joints cry out. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep up with any of them. He was beginning to feel as if he was slowly them all done.
Plagued with fatigue as he was, he couldn't allow such a gory scene play out.
"I don't know your name, I don't know what you use to do, and I don't know what kind of terrible and sickening acts these bastards have done to you, but don't let them drag you into their hell. If you do, I'm not sure you can step out of here with a genuine smile on your face. Don't give them the right to take anything more from you."
Once again, he tried to ease the young woman's trembling arm down. He tried to stop her from giving in to her rightful anger and hatred. What she was about to do would be called justice in the eyes of many. Just desserts. Karma.
Bloodshed is bloodshed. Killing is killing. Murder is murder.
And Touma doubted a normal young woman as the one who had found a manic grin creeping on her face as she was prepared to crush her tormentor's skull into mush would ever recover from such an act.
A deeply brown eyes drowning in tears glanced his way, churning with rage spurned by unspeakable cruelty.
Deep blue compassionate orbs fractured the ugly seeds before they could blossom into a vile flower capable of only spreading further evil. The bushing hammer was lowered with a stifled cry.
"...Thank you."
Touma smiled at the sniffling woman as she stepped back. A familiar brunette woman, the very one who had treated his grievous wounds, Anmi, took the young woman's wrist by the hand and pulled her away to counsel her.
"Y-you fucking l-little wh-whore! I should h-have choked you harder when I-!"
Compassionate dark blue eyes fell to the groaning overweight bandit.
A sinister weight fell on his right hand, sliding perfectly in a raging hand.
Whatever atrocity was peaking from the crumbled demon's vile lips was silenced by low swing. An ugly squelch was heard with the sound of breaking bone. White bits of what was once teeth burst from the broken jaw of the now white-eyed thug.
Dark blue faded into a hollow abyss swirling with ugly emotions.
A terrible itch grew on the back of his right hand. A terrible frustrating irritation no amount of scratching could relieve. He had no idea why but it felt as if the skin cells were burning away like paint peeling off due to intense heat.
Touma shut his eyes with a remorseful grimace.
The industrial hammer in his tight grasp fell to the floor with a deep thud.
...When did it happen?
When did he take the bushing hammer out of the young woman's hand to wield as a weapon? When had his darker and more malicious emotions begun to soak through the surface?
At what point had he begun to lash out with the intent to draw blood?
'We have to get out of here. We've spent too much time running around this place for this environment to be of any good to the mentality of these villagers. Even I'm...'
He turned his back to the bloodied grunt on the verge of passing out. No further pain was needed to be inflicted. This was enough. He had attacked because of the darkness seeping out of the demon's mouth and shut it up before he was exposed to their darkness.
If he knew of the kind of deeds the bastard had done to the young woman he had stopped, he was sure he would have snapped as he did with Waraji. He'd devolve into the kind of person he despised.
Nothing would restore the thread of his sanity if it happened again. Not here. Not in this toxic prison where his heart was already being put under tremendous pressure. Not after everything he'd seen thus far while attempting to escape.
Stepping away from the piece of human garbage, Touma went to speak with Kyofu. Per her advice, a few of the thugs had been interrogated by her hand for information on the layout of the prison compound. For all his compassion, not even he had done much to step in when those smug idiots spat in Kyofu's face when questioned. Besides, from experience, bones healed, the body could make more blood, and in the case of the really ugly ones, a broken nose and broken teeth wouldn't really change how they looked anyway.
"We get any closer to the exit?"
Kyofu gave him an odd stare, a common occurrence at this point since they had first met.
"This hallway should lead us to a large open space where the villagers had once stored lumber for repairs to the floodgates of Sector-D. Luckily for us, we have a few people among us that used to work in this warehouse who've backed up the information those sniveling worms coughed up. The layout of the place has been heavily modified to resemble a prison compound for Gato's more profitable targets, so we wouldn't have been able to find the way out. From there, we just have to keep going straight, beat up whoever gets in our way, and then the hard part begins."
Touma was ready to cry.
"The hard part?"
"What? You didn't think we'd all be home free once we broke out of here, did you?" Kyofu scoffed before looking at Touma as if he were a toddler, "This is Gato's turf. He specifically took over Sector-D to demoralize the villagers of the main island and keep his men close by to do his shitty work. Outside of here are even more of his little demons scurrying around in greater numbers than the small fry we've jumped. Not to mention the unknown attackers causing them trouble in their own little war. Once we're out there, we'll have to navigate through whatever chaos is unfolding. It's not going to be easy."
Touma wanted to cry.
"Hey, don't give me that pathetic look. Those watery eyes of yours may work on others, but I ain't your Kaa-san. You started this fight against a tyrant in control of an entire island nation, you're going to finish it. S-Seriously! D-Don't start bawling! You're ruining the macho and cool image I was just beginning to have about you! Hey! You idiots patting his back and whispering words of comfort to the spiky idiot! Stop giving him any kindness before he becomes accustomed to being the one who needs to be saved!"
After recovering from a fetal position and rocking back and forth while he cried at his usual string of misfortune, the courageous and fierce Kamijou Touma-san was back on his feet to lead the villagers out of the labyrinth of a compound with the sexy dark-skinned Kyofu by his side.
This had originally been a warehouse for storing tons of lumber and other building materials for the repair of the nearby floodgates. It was a massive open space where stacks and stacks of carefully bundled wood were piled in either giant metal shelves or upon the floor. It was a building meant for storage among other labors of construction. But due to Gato's control, it had been repurposed into a shoddy prison compound. Most likely the very villagers who were locked up like filthy animals had been forced to turn their warehouse into the very symbol of their despair.
There were multiple rooms around every corner they turned. Each one held another act of cruelty by those giddy demons. Though they seemed to be aimlessly wandering in search out of the maze, they were taking out more of the rats who infested the walls. Their numbers continued to grow as they saved more of those who had been taken away from their homes.
The will to fight had been reignited in the veins of those cowering and wailing prisoners turned warriors. Seeing the once faded eyes grow fierce had brought a smile to Touma's fatigued face.
Nami no Kuni's dispirited citizens were no longer accepting this shitty situation playing out before them. They had found the will to push through this despair, to face demons, and grit their teeth. Hands once shaken, bruised, broken, and marred with scars now clenched tightly in rebellion.
People were fighting for their freedom. Fighting tooth and nail despite being normal villagers who lacked any abilities, supernatural powers, or interesting backstories to make them out heroes.
A deep and searing pang pierced Touma's lower abdomen. His face twisted, teeth clamped down to stop any sound of agony from escaping as they all continued pushing ahead through a large room left to continue storing stacks of lumber for repairs.
Escape. They just needed to escape this sickening hell. It didn't matter how much longer it took but they needed to leave this cesspool of Gato's own hands to return these people back to their homes. Boshi, the man who had stood up to Gato's men in order to protect both his family and his nation, was no doubt waiting to see his wife and daughters again once he awoke. They all simply wanted to go home.
It was why he refused to allow any of those tragic characters to give in to their pain and hatred. If they gave in to those ugly emotions out of some sense of justice or payback for all the tragedy they had been subjected to, they would lose those sweet places in their ordinary lives. A piece to their original selves would forever be lost and cruelty would stain their hearts. Even if it was well within their rights to return the favor back to their sinister captors, they had to be stronger.
Touma was the same. The growing violence in his fists had to be tamed before it turned vile. Otherwise, he would lose who he was in this tiny hell. He simply wanted to go back home to Index and Othinu-
…
…
…
'...O-Oh...'
Without realizing it himself, he had stopped, leaving the others to move ahead of him. His left hand pressed against the red-dyed gauze concealing the jagged blade shard in his side, tensing as he bit his lower lip to the point of drawing blood. His throat trembled as it struggled desperately to swallow something thick and rough that wasn't there.
Even greater and deeper pain threatened to break him.
Everyone would be able to step back into their normal lives. It wasn't over yet. Gato was still in control of their nation. But surely those who broke free of this nightmare would gather the courage to break free of this lousy illusion with their own hands. Whether it be by standing up against more of the billionaire's petty thugs, aiding Tazuna with the construction of the bridge, or even protecting those who had nothing to hold onto anymore as they were left in the streets to fend for themselves. Once they fought back, that lovely normal life they all adored would surely return.
Kyofu would go back to her village.
Tazuna could retire and enjoy his golden years in peace with a bottle of sake and a fishing reel on the island's beach.
Tsunami could raise her cynical son without the fear of men abducting them and smile freely.
Team 7s mission would be accomplished and they would return to their village with heads held high.
But Kamijou Touma?
What place did he have in this world?
There was no normal life to step back into. No status quo to happily indulge in. A normal high school boy had no place in this strange new world of supernatural ninja set in a similar time as the Edo period of Japan. What waited for him at the end of the long road ahead wasn't anything familiar. A cold emptiness leaked into his aching heart.
Here in this lonely, dank, savage space where demons roamed with human faces, the sudden sense of loneliness had grown and physically struck him in his moment of weakness. The very sinister nature of this domain of pain ebbed into his very heart and threatened to corrupt him. Alone in stranger tides, without Index or Othinus to return to, his violence had begun to bubble with a malicious hiss.
There was...there was nothing waiting for him out there. So...so why was he struggling so desperately as a normal high school boy? What was he fighting to reject?
He nearly crumbled then and there as any boy would have.
"Kamijou-san?"
Before that crippling despair and sense of loss could swallow him in, Touma flinched.
And smiled.
An ordinary smile. Generic and simple.
Plastic.
Like countless other instances, the mass of despair, hurt, sorrow, panic, and fear was cruelly stuffed deep into his scarred over heart like it was nothing.
"It's nothing, Kyofu-san. I guess I just needed a moment to rest. Sorry, it won't happen again."
A skeptical Kyofu didn't seem to believe his excuse. She had seen the hurt in his face before he swiftly swept it under the rag. But considering his physical state, she nodded in order to not bring up any unnecessary predicaments to the rescue operation.
"If you need to rest then it's okay if one of us carries you from here on out. We're nearly there. All we have to do is go straight ahead of this storage shed to make it to the yard outside. Once we've cleared out any more of Gato's men then we can start working on leading everyone out of Sector-D."
"If ya need a shoulder to lean on then I can help ya, kid!"
"I-I'll take your hand, i-if you need someone to help you."
"You've done enough, young man. Leave the rest to us folk for a change. We can take over the fighting in your stead."
"You've saved us, so leave everything else to us! This time...this time we won't let our champion bear all the weight for us cowardly villagers!"
A stupefied Touma stared dumbly at the many voices speaking to him.
Just a few yards ahead of him were filthy common folk who were all as wounded as he was or far more traumatized than him. Those people were grinning his way, smiling his way, smirking his way, all with determination burning in their eyes. They all released a lovely glow this miserable hell couldn't corrupt. Even though he was a stranger to them, a weak idiot who could only punch, ready to fall apart, a weight dragging them down…
He felt the plastic smile creak.
And the world was struck by a terrible crack of violence.
A large metal sheet far ahead of the party was forced open with a thunderous boom. The force of the explosion caused a terrible ringing in the ears of those inside, followed by billowing smoke and flames peppering the gaping hole created by the blast.
"Eh? What the hell is this place? I could have sworn that buck-toothed loser said I'd be able to find Touma here. Don't tell me he lied?! That asshole! Just for that, he's going to taste a Thousand Years of Death with my kunai, dattebayo!"
The new voice caused the villagers' shoulders to jump anxiously. Kyofu grit her teeth and spun a kunai to wield as a dagger for the fight to come. It didn't matter that the voice sounded young. As a kunoichi, she knew better than to disregard an opponent based solely on age. Even at twelve, she could kill a grown man in over a minute. Child soldiers weren't anything new and Gato wouldn't be below such a tactic.
Orange.
A peek of tangerine orange was seen as the spiky-haired figure walked past the smoke, his entire form obscured by the black smoke. A weapon could be seen in his hand as if he was prepared to attack the moment he found a reason to strike.
Who was he?
One of Gato's men?
Or the mystery party who had attacked Gato's base with explosions?
Friend or Foe?
No chances could be taken by those who had been imprisoned. The villagers readied their weapons, following cautiously after the dark-skinned kunoichi who made the first step to confront whoever had appeared out of nowhere. Someone stood in the way of their exit. One way or another, they would all leave. Even if it meant further risking their lives against demons.
"...Uzumaki-san?"
The name was called out in a whisper as Touma found himself left behind, eyes blinking as he tried to affirm the silhouette's identity. The bright orange was a dead giveaway. As far as he knew, no one was so naive as to wear such a striking color among even the weirdos back in his original world. And the voice had such a familiar tone he had grown accustomed to. Bright, full of energy, excited.
A bright blue-eyed spiky blond boy decked out in an orange jumpsuit stepped out of the smoke. In his right hand, he held a knocked-out thug who was tossed aside with a weak groan. The whiskered genin found a group of filthy men and women ahead of him, narrowing his eyes like a suspicious fox at the sight of weapons and nasty looks sent his way.
He was alone without any kage bunshins watching his back. Even if Gato's thugs were all bark and no bite, he wasn't so stupid as to charge ahead against such a large group armed to the teeth. Especially when it looked like they had some kind of ex-kunoichi leading them.
"Uzumaki-san!?"
Before either opposing side could move against the other, Naruto paused with his blue eyes flung open in surprise.
"T-Touma!?"
Two spiky-haired boys grinned at one another in relief. The simmering tension in the air died. At the sight of the young ninja he had met days ago upon being exiled into a new world, the dreadful pang of loneliness in Touma's heart cracked.
"And just where the hell do you think you're going?"
Flashing steel sung gently in the air. Something was cleanly severed.
Above the heads of the villagers, a dark shadow fell upon them.
"MOVE!"
Kyofu reacted immediately as her instincts warned her to leap forward. The urgent shout from Touma had forced the villagers to run ahead after the female ninja as they heard the air above their heads whooshing.
Stacks of piled lumber wood weighing over two tons fell straight down with a mighty crash. A cloud of dust erupted as two flashing lines were seen in the billowing wind. Off to the side, the restraining belts holding the shelved building materials were snapped by flying cuts, raining down an avalanche of wooden beams, pipes, tiles, and tools. A wall of broken building materials was formed in the aftermath, towering even a grown adult male of six feet.
No one was harmed. The villagers and Kyofu had avoided the falling hazards just in time.
All except-
"Kamijou!"
"Touma!"
Only one person had failed to react, someone who was far too injured to be moving so suddenly to any kind of threat, who grimaced with every step he took.
[-]
Luck was never on Kamijou Touma's side.
It hurt.
Swallowing a cry as he forced his shaking hands to push his body up from the hard gray concrete floor, Touma stood back up with a sharp gasp. His breathing was labored, his heart pounding against his tight chest, and his body covered in dust. Behind his back he found a tall wall of debris blocking his sight of everyone else, wincing as he heard the groan of a pipe bending underneath the weight of all the smashed materials.
Even if every action caused his body to ache, he still had reacted to the stacks of lumber falling from above their heads and rolled out of the way.
But instead of following after everyone else to Naruto, he dodged towards the sudden attacker.
A demon's sharp metal fang glared into his eyes.
Zori, Gato's personal guard, stood a few feet away from the wounded spiky boy who held his damp red side.
Dried blood trailed his nose, an ugly bruise formed from his nose to between his eyes, and his beanie cap had been left behind. His eyes were bloodshot as if he had awoken from some terrible nightmare, his gray hair disheveled and split. The well-maintained katana gave off a deadly glint as it was wielded with every intent to cut its target to fleshy blood-soaked ribbons.
An enemy as dangerous as the lunatic butcher Waraji appeared like some loose wild beast emerging from his cave.
Touma dipped his head, shadows cast over his eyes as the ronin's seething scowl threatened to burn him alive.
"Tch! Did you really think you could escape? Did you really think you could play the great hero and free all those prisoners by yourself? Don't be an idiot!" Zori spat viciously with a wild swing of his sharp blade whistling in the air, "Even if you left the compound, there are still dozens and dozens of Gato's men outside who are far worse than me. Even if you beat down Waraji by yourself, do you think you stand a chance of protecting any of those sheep all on your own against a pack of cackling hyenas out for blood?!"
"...Heh, yeah, you're right."
Touma sighed tiredly in defeat causing Zori to grin smugly.
"I'm already dead on my feet. Everything hurts. If I were to face off against any more of you bastards on my own, I wouldn't be able to do more than hurt myself further. In this state, I can barely save myself. I can't save anyone on my own."
"Then why the hell are you smiling?"
To Zori's frustration, the spiky-haired boy hadn't crumbled, submitted to his fate, or begged for his life as a long samurai blade longed to cut him apart.
Touma smiled, a genuine and honest smile free of anxiety, fear, or despair.
"Am I? I guess I didn't notice. Maybe it's because you solved my little dilemma for me. After all, right now, it's only you and I. Everyone I was struggling to protect with these bruised, cut, and bloodied hands are safely behind the nifty wall of hazardous debris you created with those flashy slashes of yours. My misfortune may have activated just when I believed I found some good fortune stumbling into my direction, but this is fine. Uzumaki-san is here; that must mean Hatake-san and his students aren't too far behind. With Kyofu, those guys should be able to safely return everyone back to their homes. This ugly nightmare-"
"Won't be over, you fucking idiot. Gato's still in control. Do you think escaping from Sector-D will do a thing? You're still scheduled for the chopping block! It doesn't matter if those prisoners escape, we can always round them back up once you've been executed for running your mouth with that lousy hand you played against the house! You'll be hunted down, beaten until your spurting blood all over, and dragged back right here without any arms! Because you turned down a chance to win in this game, because you've automatically lost against a rigged game, you have to pay the ante forward: your life."
"I haven't lost yet."
A certain right hand was clenched with a dry crack.
"This hand of mine is still in play. We haven't found a clear winner in this grudge match. Whether Gato suffers any major loss because of this small gamble here, whether this battle affects the outcome of Nami no Kunis fate, whether this side story gains any traction with the main events revolving around a dictator, a bridge-builder and his family, and green team of ninja, it doesn't matter! I was never fighting to attack Gato or save myself!"
A change had taken over the once sullen and weak boy.
Zori found his fingers tightening the grip of his katana anxiously.
Touma found that genuine smile on his face growing wider as finally found himself in his element once more. The nerve-wracking pain, the jagged metal in his side, the sense of loneliness, the ebbing savage violence, it was silenced with the crack of his right turning into a hard fist.
This was not solving the glaring personal issues at hand. No, this was no different than running away from having to deal with the realization that he was truly, utterly, alone with nowhere to return to once the dust settled at the very end of this story. If anything, this was simply feeding the malicious violence growing in his heart that was losing meaning in holding onto the title of a normal high school you could find anywhere else.
But those issues weren't important. They had nothing to do with this fight.
"Kamijou!"
"Touma!"
Back turned to the hazardous wall of debris separating him from everyone else, Touma shouted back clearly and sternly.
"GO! Don't waste your time here any longer! Kyofu-san, please, follow Uzumaki-san out. If he's here then Hatake-san should be nearby too. Knowing him, he ought to help you all with evacuating the villagers from Sector-D. You should all be able to protect them far better than I ever could!"
"You fucking idiot! Are you seriously suggesting to abandon you here?! Look at yourself! You've been beaten black and blue, you're bloodied; can you even see straight at this point? The smart thing to do would be to save you-"
"STOP WASTING TIME AND GO! CAN'T YOU SEE I'D BE USELESS!"
A feverish gleaming blade whistled.
Touma grunted in exertion as he ducked low. A wide swing would have severed his neck from his collar. Several pipes and lumber columns rooted the floor behind him like stakes were chopped cleanly off. Without missing a beat, he had already tucked his body in and tackled the stunned ronin, knocking the wind out of the gasping young man.
The two wrestled on the floor, Touma doing everything in his power to prevent the thug/ronin from properly gripping onto his deadly weapon. Fingers clawed at the red-dyed gauze at his side, threatening to tear an even wider hole where a metal shard shivered ominously. Black spots exploded in Touma's vision, nearly blinding him before he threw his head back.
And then proceeded to slam down onto Zori's forehead with a thick clack.
"FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!"
Touma's breath rasped in his dry throat, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the writhing ronin pinned to the floor.
"You said so yourself; look at me. I'm in no state to protect anyone, least of all myself. But you and Uzumaki-san can! Hell, the kid is a one-man army on his own! If there are more of Gato's men outside, I'd be useless in helping either of you fight them off. I'd just be another body for you to fret about. When it comes to one-on-one, I can hold my own just fine. But twos where I struggle, threes where I run, and anymore is where I'm finished. Unlike me, you can safely escort everyone here and deal with any enemies that might pop up! The only use an idiot like me is right now is playing the punching bag so everyone can walk away! If someone like Zori followed after us, fought against us while we have a large group of vulnerable people around us, someone will be hurt or worse. Even if it's nothing more than a measly 4% chance of that happening, with my rotten luck, I refuse to risk it!"
The truth was never easy to swallow. The best course of action for everyone's safety was to keep Zori distracted and away from the civilians. If there were any more enemies waiting outside then it would be better for Kyofu to stick with them. She was the trained, professional, kunoichi; a Kumogakure Jonin, someone who had to be at the level of combat ability as Hatake Kakashi. She could easily handle any more enemies alone without breaking out any special tricks even in her weakened state. Naruto would even be a better fit than Touma since he could spam an army of clones for protection.
Out of everyone, including the villagers they were defending, Touma was the weakest and most vulnerable. His wounds could be used against him. He couldn't wield a weapon in self-defense without hurting himself or devolving into another demon. Moving alone took considerable effort. Taking him along would be no different than carrying a boulder on their back as they fought mobs of enemies.
By taking him out of the equation, he was lightening the loud.
Right now it was better to leave while Zori's attention was on him. Their current battleground wasn't fit for more than three going at it at the same time. There was a risk someone else would get hurt. And Kyofu couldn't rely on Naruto to take the villagers all on his own even with his ability to create clones. She had to be the one to safely guide them out or take them to the orange-themed boy's leader.
A foul curse was heard over the wall of debris from the dark-skinned kunoichi.
"Everyone, follow me! Don't look back and stay right behind me! You! Orange Jumpsuit with the whiskers; take me to your leader!"
"Why do I feel like you're referencing something? And what do you mean 'take you'?! I'm not going to run away and leave Touma to fight some thug with a sword!"
"Listen to me, you blond head of spikes! I don't have time to deal with a gung-ho genin who's way up their own ass right now! It's bad enough I have to follow a Konoha ninja as it is but here we are! The sooner we can take these civilians back to your team leader, the faster we can rush on back to help your buddy! So move it!"
Arguing could be heard between the two ninjas while Touma bashed his skull against the ronin's once again. A thick trail of blood swam down Zori's face as he snarled, forgetting his katana to dig his fingers into the gauze. Touma stifled the scream on his lip with his teeth clamped shut, his own hand catching the samurai's wrist and threatening to break the bones unless he stopped ripping his wound a new one.
"Fine! Just follow me and I'll take you to Kakashi-sensei! You hear that, Touma! We're leaving but we'll be back! So, don't go dying like an idiot! If you could take on No-Brows then this punk shouldn't be any different! You better win!"
Muffled echoes of the escaping villagers were heard in his pounding head until he could no longer feel their presence.
Even as his vision flashed with black spots once again, Touma smiled gratefully.
No more hesitation.
No more stalling.
No more distractions.
The real fight began with a powerful foot thrusting into Touma's abdomen with the force of a battering ram.
"GAH!"
Spit and specks of red flew out of Touma's gasping mouth as he was launched off Zori. It wouldn't be the last time the sheer pain alone blurred his vision as his back hit the floor.
Instincts all but screamed at him to move before he could squirm in pain.
Silver flashed like a mirage in a scorching desert.
Touma clenched his teeth and rolled to the side. A wave of steel cut through the cement floor in a single flickering motion. Sweat trickled down his face as he jumped back onto his feet to avoid another flash of severing steel. He felt a chilling prickle of needles on his skin as the katana blade missed his cheek by an inch. His eyes tracked the well-polished blade, noting how different it was when compared to the chipped katana Waraji had used to chop him apart. The steel gleamed with every stroke, brushing through the air with a soft whistle of death.
Unlike the barbaric Waraji, Zori wasn't wild with his swings. A myriad of frenzied slashes didn't chase after him in blind blood lust.
Once again, the elegant blade returned to its sheath with incredible speed.
Iaido.
True Iaido; The art of the quick drawn.
This was a true swordsman who fought at mid-distance to kill their opponent with each swing.
To Touma's eyes, Zori's hand blurred like some static image. In the next moment, his right arm was extended off to the side. His single-edged blade gleamed as it didn't move.
Blood dripped off the fine point.
Then Touma felt a dreadful flash of heat across his shoulder. Blood spurt from the clean gash extending from his collar to his back in a wet red line.
'Shit!'
"Hmph. I guess it wasn't all just pointless gossip after all. That fact that you're still standing with your head screwed to your head proves it." Zori clicked his teeth in annoyance as he swiftly sheathed his katana with a click. Dark gray eyes inspected the panting spiky boy from top to bottom with intrigue like a curator would to a new piece of historical value.
Touma jumped back once he heard a faint click.
The space he had stood previously was struck by a falling hammer of slicing metal. He avoided the deadly slash in the nick of time.
Zori grunted as his blade returned home, eyeing Touma with more focus than previously before.
"You should be dead. You should have been dead by now. But here you are, still breathing and dancing around like an idiot. Seriously, just what the hell are you? A normal person would be dead after the first swing!"
This was a samurai. A failed samurai but a disciple of the eastern sword who fought to kill, not harm or defeat their opponent. Even if he wasn't adorned in platted armor like in the history books detailing those noble figures of Japan's past, this was still an opponent bearing their teachings and skills.
Zori was not Kanzaki. He was not Acqua. He was not Second Princess Carissa. He was not Marian. He wasn't anything like the many bizarre beasts he had clashed against.
Even when compared to the terrifying beast Waraji, who lacked supernatural skills but attacked with sheer natural talent...
Compared to those monsters who fought with bladed weapons, even this battered brawler could survive so long as he kept his body moving.
[-]
Silver gleams assaulted the air, warning the spiky boy to move. Heart pounding into his chest, he ducked low and rolled out of the way. Those deadly steel gleams struck the towering wall of debris, screeching as Zori sheared through hard lumber, steel pipes, and even machinery. Those construction branches hit the floor with a clatter.
With panic clear in his face, Touma reached for those pieces of sheared wood and steel.
Zori sneered as he found those destroyed materials flung his way in a desperate attempt to harm him. His katana shot out his sheath to slice every piece of debris to harmless bits.
Idiot. What point was there in even trying such a move? Did the spiky boy not understand just how proficient he was in his iaido? Compared to Waraji, he was by the far the more well-trained and mastered in the art than a brute whose swings were powerful but lacked pure speed.
Returning to his drawing stance, Zori moved quickly to finish the lackluster fight. Surely Gato would understand why he had to execute the prisoner ahead of schedule. A head should suffice to instill fear into the villagers.
At least this wouldn't leave him with an unpleasant taste in his mouth as it had with a certain champion.
To his annoyance, more broken pieces of construction material were thrown his way. Again and again, Zori would cut those weak attempts to attack him to bits that littered the floor. Was this an attempt to buy time or prolong his suffering? Wouldn't a swift death be better than extending this sorry fight any longer?
Having had enough, Zori fell back into a stance and ignored the next volley of junk thrown his way. He breathed deeply, squared his shoulders, focused his sights on the sweaty spiky boy, and channeled his chakra into his muscles to further enhance the reach of his attack. The next move would end it here.
What separated Zori from the mad beast Waraji was proficiency and chakra control. Unlike the one-eyed ronin, Zori had been trained as an actual samurai in Tetsu no Kuni. Even if he was an exiled swordsman who hadn't completed his training, he was still far better than that brute.
A single slash was fired. Invisible energy followed behind the simple but well-maintained edge to slice a perfect crescent wave extending two yards ahead at great speeds.
A head would roll with a spurt of red.
At least that was what should have happened.
To Zori's surprise, his deadly crescent sailed far above Touma's head as he charged at the boy. In fact, his entire body swayed and fell back. His attempts to correct his posture were found to be ruined as his left foot was caught atop a rolling pipe.
One of the many random pieces of junk he had cut apart and now littered the floor.
"You son of a-!"
A right fist plowed into his face. Lights exploded in his eyes as he stumbled back, nearly tripping on more pieces of sliced construction material. The ronin/thug growled furiously as he swiped aimlessly at the air to push the attacking spiky boy back.
The warning slash made contact with a heavy object hurled with an exerting grunt.
'A bag of cement mix?!'
A burst of gray dust exploded out of the sliced open brown bag weighing over 90lbs. How an already heavily wounded boy could even lift, let alone toss such a thing dumbfounded Zori. To his displeasure, the finely pulverized mixture of cement covered his body as the cloud covered a wide area.
Channeling a bit of chakra into his arms, he dispelled the annoying cloud with a strong swing of his katana, careful to cover his mouth with his sleeve. He knew nothing about the dangers of the strange dust but knew better than to breathe in something designed to solidify into rock. With the dust cleared, his eyes scanned the surrounding area for his opponent.
He felt an itch on his neck.
Their battlefield was originally a warehouse for construction materials. Even as most of the building had been converted into a quasi-prison compound, there were still large areas such as their current arena that had been left alone. Rows upon rows of metal shelves lined the massive room where anyone could hide if they truly wished.
Did that mean the boy was running away or hiding to save himself?
A shelf on his left gave off a grating rattle. Serving as the only warning to move.
How the wounded boy did it, Zori had no idea but one of the belts keeping tons of lumber wood secure was undone. Wood planks fell away from a shelf above his head from the left, tumbling down in front of him.
Not right above or at him but a few yards away. He wasn't harmed and only needed to move back a few spaces to avoid the planks coming down right inf front of his eyes. His eye twitched at the absurd and pointless tactic.
If it wasn't meant to hit him then what was the point? A distraction?
An odd noise caught his attention. A metallic click and the sound of something being fired.
Zori spun his katana like a revolving fan, deflecting a metal nail fired his way with the force of a kunai. He quirked his brow as he found his prey behind the shelf where tons of wooden planks had been resting. In his shaking hands was a strange device he had never seen before, bulky and shaped similar to an L with a barrel aimed at his direction. A large clip of what looked like construction nails was being fed into the strange device that he believed was responsible for the firing nail.
Was that what they called a nail gun?
A rather vicious grin was found on the boy's face as he aimed the nail gun at the curious-eyed Zori.
He pressed the trigger to the heavy construction gun, firing a quick burst of two-inch sturdy nails through the empty shelf.
Zori simply spun his katana at the pointed metalheads without any panic or care. Compared to kunai and shuriken they were nothing more than pesky bugs. His sharp gaze noted how they weren't even fired with any real target in mind- like his forehead, eyes, or upper chest. It was a blind spray.
Not all the nails were aimed at the ronin either.
An odd groan could be heard behind Zori as his eyes snapped open in alarm. He cursed and glanced back to the massive shelves behind his back. This time a belt of plastic pipes right above his head trembled as a few nails had snapped the support belts. Just the small shock of those nails impacting against the shelf was enough to cause the now freed materials to fall.
Zori acted instantly. A wide overhead swing severed the tumbling pipes down the middle to send them falling to either side of him with thunderous bangs.
Hot metal pierced his right shoulder and tickled bone.
"Gaaaahhhh!"
The spiky haired boy had taken advantage of his attention being aimed at the falling pipes and fired a single nail into his shoulder, close to his collarbone. The pain was enough to rattle his nerves as he felt the metal pinned into his flesh with the flat head pressed deeply against his favorite hoodie.
Now, now Zori was officially pissed.
Sheathing his katana, his dark gray eyes sent Touma a seething glare as he felt his chakra swell in his biceps.
At the same time, both boys attacked with their respective weapons fired madly.
Only one was superior.
Blazing needles were severed by a fine edge slicing right through. Its killing potential was extended by chakra to cross several yards to reach the nervous spiky boy's location behind the tall shelves. Severing steel cut through wood, plastic, bags of dry cement, and steel in its path of splitting Touma down the middle but missed as he evaded to the right. Frustrated at the lack of blood scored, Zori chased after the running boy.
All while scratching at his reddening neck.
Slash and run.
Slash and run.
Slash and run.
Again, and again, and again, and again. Zori chased after the heavily wounded boy, growing further irritated and frustrated at the evasive boy avoiding every quick drawn he sent his way. The expansive room and line of industrial shelves storing building materials made for a terrible battlefield as Gato's prized prisoner took advantage of the many obstacles in the way of his fine blade's edge. To his ever-mounting anger, the odd tool in the boy's hand was getting in the way as he found himself having to defend against the spray of deadly nails being stabbed into his body.
Zori aimed to sever his arms.
A crate full of plastic fell behind Touma that he was forced to cut apart.
The next swing would amputate his legs with a low sweep far too fast for any normal person to dodge.
An annoying itch on his reddening neck interrupted his swing as the flash of irritation got in his way.
More nails were fired in a rapid string aimed with indiscriminate fire.
A sweating Zori swiped the steel nails out of the air with a hiss. Random hot flashes coursed underneath his hoodie as he drew his sword in and rushed after Touma with the intent to lob his head off.
Having emptied all of its nails, Touma threw the heavy industrial gun low, aiming to strike Zori's legs. The ronin thug simply hopped over the piece of junk, eyes narrowing as he released his blade with a burst of speed. Touma ducked low on all fours, missing the single edge blade's trajectory before aiming an uppercut at the grimacing ronin's airborne form. Zori countered by reversing his katana's swing to slam down at the low angled boy's fist.
Dried bloodied knuckles met the gripped fingers clenched over a samurai blade with a thick thwack.
"Why?! Why won't you just keel over and die already?! Seriously, how the fuck are you keeping up with me? Aren't you just some boring old villager who got lucky in one fight?! Just look at you!"
A snap was heard in the red-faced Zori's head. A dull throb was felt as his fingers had been punched by a tight fist. Temper boiling over, he swiped at Touma, scoring a thin cut across the flinching boy's chest that sent him back several spaces.
The ronin felt a burning sensation across his neck. Like acid had been splashed on his skin. Red flushed his skin over his collarbone. To his confusion, he felt similar patches of dryness and heat beneath his hoodie. He couldn't help but scratch at his neck to the point he felt his skin give away and bleed.
What was wrong with him? Why was he so itchy? Why did his skin burn? It was like someone had stamped a hot iron over his upper body. Drops of sweat swam down his hot face, further increasing the burning itch on his face and neck. It was maddening.
Kamijou Touma grinned smugly at Zori's irritation as the grimacing boy began to scratch his left forearm.
Said forearm was covered with gray dust and burned bright red.
"Didn't you know? Dry cement is toxic. What else would you expect from something that's meant to be dried and hardened to withstand heavy impacts? If I remember correctly, it's made up of a material known as silica; it's a lethal substance far more deadly than asbestos. When cement dust comes into contact with water or even sweat, it becomes highly alkaline in nature. Get it on your sweaty skin and you're going to be burned by the acidic nature eating away at flesh."
Zori's eyes grew wide with livid fury.
"That bag of cement mix? You mean you planned this!?"
"Did you think I wouldn't come up with a way to counter a speed freak like you? I've already fought wild beasts whose swings were difficult to follow. I've even been pummeled into a bloody pulp by idols whose sheer talent alone could break the sound barrier. Compared to them though, you're surprisingly easy to fight with. You're far more human than those demons."
Was...was that why he hadn't killed the boy yet? Was it because the generic-faced prisoner had been deliberately screwing him up?!
Without realizing it, Zori's accuracy and speed had been dropping. His stance had slacked. Minute mistakes popped up due to the growing sweat reacting to the corrosive dust that had fallen on his skin and slithered into his hoodie. The earlier random attacks of sliced pipes had been meant to get in the way of his movements.
His eyes examined the patches of angry red on his hands. It was like a rash brought on about by poison ivy raking against his pale skin. Unconsciously his fingers rubbed against each other to ease the sweaty skin. An unbearable heat stung in splotches across his body.
The spiky boy hadn't just been running for the sake of avoiding his katana. It was a ploy to get him sweating so the toxic dust could activate its corrosive ability and spread.
But Zori hadn't been alone in being attacked by the hazardous dust.
The spiky boy was covered in his fair share of the cement mix. If anything, he was sweating far more and now added burns to the long list of injuries he was piling up on his tab alongside what cuts he had scored. Dark circles fell below his shuttering eyes from exhaustion and anemia. His posture spoke of crumbling to the slightest push. From where Zori stood, he could make out the boy's chest was struggling to rise with every labored breath.
How then?
How was such an ordinary boy able to keep fighting when he was ready to break down at any moment!?
A piece of metal buried in both boys' respective persons caused them to flinch and grip said wounds with shivering hands and gasps.
Zori furiously scratched at his cheek, temper seething as he was being outsmarted and fatigued by a younger boy who didn't have any talents or supernatural abilities. An average boy was keeping up with a talented ronin who should have killed him in one move.
Was it because he was in pain? Was it because he was growing fed up? Was it because he was being driven mad with anger? Or was it because he was growing sick of this drawn-out fight that should have ended after one flick of his katana?
"Why? Why couldn't you have just given in?"
For whatever the reason, Zori spoke such trembling words lowly as he bowed his head and clenched his sword tightly until his itchy knuckles grew pale.
The lamenting thug missed it but his frustrated words had caused the heavily wounded boy to grow still.
What was the point of this fight even about? What reward was there for the end of this meaningless battle? Did the spiky-haired boy seriously believe anything kind would be found at the end? Did he really believe that by defeating him that he would find freedom in his corpse? Just how naive was the kid?
Silence grew between the two boys in the empty warehouse turned prison compound as a battle was waged right outside the walls of Gato's territory.
Kamijou Touma refused to budge, attack, or run away. Instead, he stood completely still with an indiscernible emotion in his dark blue eyes.
Rattling steel was raised, leveled to the frowning village boy who didn't move an inch as he listened to the frustrated thug.
"Don't you fucking understand yet? There's nothing for you to gain here. There's no victory. This nation, these people, everything stretching across these borders! It's already been lost long ago! The people of Nami no Kuni already placed their all in betting on their beloved champion. Those morons decided on focusing their strategy on one powerful card against a hand chuck full of numbers designed to exhaust him. And they lost. Nami no Kuni belongs to Gato whether you like it or not!"
That was the cold hard truth everyone had grown to accept.
Gato was the ruler of Nami no Kuni. Of its land. Of its seas. Of its heavens. And of its people's souls. This was their reality.
Not even the cowardly and pathetic daimyo of its land could stake such claim from the shadows they crawled to.
Was it fair? Was it right?
Of course not.
But what did it matter?
Zori was not a citizen of Nami no Kuni. He was not of its people and held nothing personal for these lands. He was just a stranger who had been hired to protect a billionaire. What did it matter if he thought it was an unpleasant sight to see men, women, and children wander the streets in filthy rags, be beaten for giggles, sold as playthings, and killed like livestock? It wasn't his business.
He had already cemented himself as a demon long ago for his own survival. He had no right to feel sorry or regret now.
"Kill me? Escape? Release those doomed prisoners back to their village? Takedown one of our bases? Do you really think that will have any impact on Gato's control? There are over thirteen different bases scattered across this small island and this isn't even the main one! All it takes is one simple message and he could amass the army he's built up over the years and swarm this village in a matter of hours. He's even got one of Mizu no Kuni's most wicked and demonic shinobi at the forefront; alone, Momochi Zabuza is far more terrifying than all those numbers combined! And yet you have the gull to even try and fight?!"
It didn't make any sense. Where was the logic? Where was the thought of his life? To his happiness? Or had all those years underneath Gato's control broken the boy's mind to the point of doing something as stupid as picking a fight with an entire criminal organization?
Didn't that moron realize none of this agony had to happen if he had only thought about his own happiness?
"It wouldn't have to be this way if you had just done as you were told! Those cuts, holes, bruises, and pain? Those are all your mistakes to bear for biting the winning hand graciously offered to you." Zori coldly stated as he leveled his katana to Touma's eye level, "You could be living it up right now. Sitting back happily with a nice drink, a wad of Ryo, a hot meal, and maybe a fine woman snuggling against your chest. But what do you do? Reject the golden ticket for a chauvinistic rampage at a losing game. That senseless loyalty to your nation is why you're fated to die in poverty while people like me are living it up!"
What part of this did he not understand? That none of this, this bloodshed, this pain, this exhaustion, this prolonged suffering! If he had just thrown aside such idiotic ideas as being the hero or pride for a dead nation, that he could be standing in a much better position than the one he found himself in with blood seeping from numerous wounds!
Had he learned nothing from Kaiza's example? Did that brave hero's pointless execution not sink in?!
Finally, after standing back as Zori ranted furiously, the boy known as Kamijou Touma reacted.
He raised his head up, eyes staring up at the ceiling of the warehouse, and sighed deeply.
An odd curve could be seen in his lips as if he was relieved.
"So, that's it? You...you really aren't like those monsters. Heh, it's no wonder you're such a brat."
Zori's ears twitched, swearing he could have heard the spiky boy whisper underneath his breath. When he stared back, those dark blue eyes grew bolder and clear. As if he had just discovered something insightful to an internal quandary.
"Who says that I'm a citizen of Nami no Kuni? I never said these were my people, that this was my home, or that I was doing any of this out of some notion of loyalty. I told you; I was never fighting to attack Gato or save myself. I don't have any family here you bastards could touch. To be honest, I don't have anything to my name here. I'm a nobody who found himself involved in this story simply because I decided to save someone."
Zori's breath was stuck in his stiff chest.
He felt a long-forgotten memory throb from deep within his brain.
A memory of an exiled teen, dirty and starving, raising his honorable blade to defend a random man who exuded wealth from a pack of street thugs.
And how such a random act had provided a chance for that down on his luck joker to escape the gutter.
Zori's scowl was puzzled, truly puzzled as he couldn't comprehend Touma's actions, "What? What do you mean you're not from Nami no Kuni? Why else would you bother with going against Gato then? If there's nothing keeping you from working with him then why would you literally spit in his face! If you're a nobody with nothing to his name, no attachment to this husk of a poor nation, then why not take such an opportunity? Weren't you sick of sitting in the dirty alleys with not even a Ryo to wet your cracked lips?!"
"The hell do you mean why?! Have you been paying attention to what Gato's been up to? You've seen the extortion, the blatant thievery, the bloodshed, the people's innocence being abused, and the horror and suffering he's spread out of nothing more than some bullshit want to make a fucking profit! I've met them."
The air around the heavily wounded boy shivered as if to warn of an approaching storm. Those dark blue eyes burned with anger as he stepped up to Zori.
To the countless thieves, killers, criminals, and madmen.
To Gato and his pet demon, Momochi Zabuza.
"The people who've paid the hefty cost to keep you fed and happy at the cost of their own. I've seen how shitty their lives have become because of one midget's own ego and sickening avarice. While they can't even feed their own children, let alone themselves, you pieces of shit are living it up with all the food and drink your empty hearts can stuff. I've seen the loss of hope in the eyes of a mother who can't even tell her own son that heroes exist, let alone that there is still hope to be hoped for! There's nothing left for them to smile for in this nation, you can see it in the streets where children no older than eight are left to beg on the streets without parents who were killed because they couldn't pay up to Gato's bullshit! And you expect me to simply ignore all the suffering and make a profit out of their misery for my own benefit while sipping expensive sake!?"
That spiky boy with a hole in his side and shoulder met Zori's killing weapon with a bare fist.
And howled.
"How could I fucking live with myself if I became another shitty cog in a system that only produces misfortune?! Loyalty? Money? Saving myself? I don't need a damn reason such as those to fight back against the likes of Gato, Momochi Zabuza, or you! My fangs are bared to attack simply because I can't stand and do nothing as people are forced to accept this greedy misery!"
"Don't fuck with me!"
Zori shouted, lashing out with a wide swipe at Touma's right hand. His blade missed as the boy pulled it back with a cautious leap back from the seething steel.
Without even desiring it, he had struck a deep blow to the heart of the selfish thug.
'Someone...someone who had nothing, who's not attached to anything, who had everything to gain just as I had…!'
Kamijou Touma should have become like Zori.
Someone who he felt started off just as he had, who could have stood right next to him…had rejected the path he now walked with distaste in the back of his tongue. Like so many others who fell under Gato's thumb, he should have given in to the easy path where they had everything to gain rather than lose. It was only logical. It would bring him happiness and purpose.
Right?
Dirty fingernails caked with torn skin cells and wet blood raked maddeningly at Zori's sweaty dust-stained chin.
'Am...am I…?'
Simply put, it made no sense to him.
The sense of irritation grew intensely. To his scalp, to his neck, to his chest, to his wrists and finger, to his thighs and feet!
This ugly and seething irritation wouldn't stop!
"You expect me to believe you're doing this out of human decency? That you would sacrifice your own life for complete strangers who can't even afford to pay you back for your kindness for nothing more than your own satisfaction? Why? Why the hell would you do something so stupid as doing something so reckless if there's nothing to be gained in your favor? Betting your own life in a game with an empty pot that will only reward you with death if you lose? Are you retarded?!"
Out of pure rage and confusion, Zori dashed forward with a ruthless stab lacking speed. It was a brutish attack the likes of Waraji would have been proud of.
A certain right hand reached for the boy's pocket.
Touma countered with a tight right fist reared back. He leaned into Zori's charge, leaning to the left to avoid the cold steel sailing past his cheek as his deeply red fist unfurled.
A puff of cement washed over Zori's stunned face.
Corrosive dust painted sweaty skin and lit the ronin's eyes on fire, having been pocketed back at the start.
"GGGGGGGYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHAAAAAAAAA!"
The sheer pain of the burns crawling over his entire face caused Zori to bat Touma away with frenzied swings. Blood leaked from a sharp edge cutting Touma's cheek as he went on to avoid the lashing blade.
No matter how hard he fought against it, Zori found tears swimming down his red eyes pulsing with veins. He held his face with a whimper crossed with a snarl like a child driven to tears from sheer frustration.
"Tell me- why did you bother with offering me a game of blackjack earlier? Why even bother with attempting to understand my reasons? Why are you trying so hard to get me to understand how pointless this all is?"
Dark gray eyes glared hatefully at the scowling spiky teen, spitting out a single response.
"What?!"
"Why did you bother at all with speaking with a villager who was waiting to be executed with a deck of cards and a bottle of sake to be drunk as a prize? Why did you speak to me as a fellow idiot would about my taste in women? I know Gato didn't command you to idle yourself with his prisoner, so you had no reason to have a conversation with me, much less ask to play a game with either Kyofu-san or me. I'm sure if it was any other guard who offered the same game with Kyofu, it would involve despicable acts on her body and a beating with my own. But you willingly play these games with the prisoners, and no doubt the villagers- why? You're the cold, cruel, unfeeling blade of Gato he keeps strapped at his side for intimidation and execution. So, why would such an instrument of fear ease the suffering of others with card games?"
"What does it matter if I decide to kill time with a game or two with whoever I like? It doesn't mean anything!" Zori roared with a wide swing of his blade.
His blurred vision misjudged the distance between the two as he found Touma easily evade the attack. A series of jabs struck him back, impacting on his heavily burned face with the force of hammer strikes.
"It doesn't make any sense to me. I can't comprehend it! For all your words, all your reasoning, all your sorry excuses you have perfectly lined up at the ready! I can't understand how someone so human would want to play the role of demon!"
H-Human? Human?!
Did the very prisoner he had cut up, threatened, insulted, and belittle still see him as human?! As someone he could reason with?
Zori snarled as he prepared to throw aside all tact and skill for steamrolling the annoying teen with his blade.
"You know, I actually had fun playing cards with you. I felt as if we could have been friends."
Kamijjou Touma threw aside his intentions as those very words froze his legs in place and caused a blank to fog his mind.
W-What?
"You're a piece of shit. You're a murderer. You're nothing more than a lousy thug who can only turn to violence in a desperate attempt to make his life better. But you aren't anything like those demons who chortle and roar with pleasure as they take advantage of others. The mask on your face is cheap and held together stubbornly with fragile string. I can see it in how I can actually hold a conversation with you without being consumed by hatred."
Touma smiled a genuine smile to the dumbstruck ronin who found himself speechless.
"I can't understand you. But that's fine. I've already met another asshole who I couldn't understand or even stand but I was able to still speak to him in a sorry attempt to come to some understanding. If you truly were another simple-minded demon, just like Waraji, like the others, it would be the reverse. I would be the one feverishly trying to understand your actions to the point I'd grow violent with bloodlust. With those bastards, I don't think there was anything there for me to click with or sympathize with...not without being dyed in those ugly colors too."
Bruised and cut fingers clenched Touma's right wrist in guilt.
"But you? I can feel it. Desperation, confusion, anger, want, and grief. I can kinda feel this pang in my chest telling me, if I keep arguing with you and don't let up, then maybe I can come to understand you. Because you're human too; a lousy bastard who found himself on an unpleasant road who refuses to accept any responsibility for the despair and harm he's brought to his fellow human beings. It's not too late."
"What...what are you saying?"
Zori's words were tense. His shoulders were stiff and rigid. He found his grip on his katana growing so tight that he feared he might snap the handle in two like a branch.
"Hey, ya bratty punk with the sorry excuse of a festival demon's mask. Don't you think it's time you threw that ugly facade away, stop playing games, and started acting like a human again? Don't you have any honor left in that cool samurai blade of yours anymore? Or are you truly happy with living as some cheap tool to be hanged below the pompously fat gut of a wormy midget who pays you with money he most likely rubbed himself off with?"
Zori's anger spiked through the roof.
White-hot rage caused his eyes to grow wide to the point his pupils vanished.
His bestial snarl split across his face as his canines were revealed savagely like a mangy beast.
Did that random nobody, who wasn't even associated with Nami no Kuni, seriously call him out some pathetic brat playing at being a demon?! What the hell did he know?!
Did that arrogant 'Hero' know that Zori had been abandoned by his parents when he was only five?
Did he know that he had lived in the cold, unforgiving streets of Tetsu no Kuni for years before being picked up to join the military force of his nation?
Did he know that he had to undergo physical, mental, and emotional training that threatened to break him?
Did he know that Zori's own impressive skills had been put down because he hadn't grown into the picture-perfect figure of a samurai?
Did he know that Zori had been exiled from his own home because he decided to take a job that paid him enough Ryo to keep himself well-fed and clothed for months because his job entailed the death of a corrupt figure in his home?
That when Zori had been left with nothing, drowning in booze outside a pachinko parlor bought with ryo he had found in the gutter, he had noticed a group of nasty looking street thugs corner a rich man? That out of a whim, he decided to step in and save said wealthy bastard who would turn his nose up at him in disgust? That the simple desire to protect had caught the interest of the well-groomed man who gave him a chilling smile and a job as a simple bodyguard.
Did that preachy teen know he hadn't realized the man he saved would later turn out to be a complete piece of shit who paid the down on his luck samurai with blood-stained Ryo. That he couldn't back down to the billionaire's offer? Did he know that any regret Zori felt was wasted after all that he had done in the name of his employer keeping him fed, warm, and clothed with all the money he could play with?
What did that nobody know? What did he understand? What was there to understand and why?!
Why couldn't that nobody who had nothing just let him play the role of demon?
How could anyone think there's was anything human about him?!
This ugly path he wandered into...there was nothing left to turn back tooooooooooooooooooooo!
His left hand hurt and could barely keep a grip on his sheath as the chemical burns made him want to scratch his skin off, but Zori pushed through as he fell into his iaido stance. It wasn't visible to the naked eye, but his chakra gathered into his arms and legs as he took a deep, calming breath. This next technique would be unlike the others.
It was the last trick he had created under his tutelage as a samurai of Tetsu no Kuni that channeled the wielders chakra into his blade to add more power, extend their length, and increase the cutting potential of their blade. It was fast, powerful, and able to cover a wide range. Unless the preachy boy could create a physical wall to protect himself from this next barrage, no amount of running or evading would save him this time.
"We're done talking. I've had enough of that high and mighty tone of yours digging into my skin like some irritating itch! I don't care if Gato lets me go for this but I'm going to finish what that idiot Waraji couldn't! So, get ready for one final game; let's deal the cards! We're going to test out who's hand is stronger!"
Touma spread his own feet apart, bending his knees for a running start as he unconsciously readied his right hand for whatever was to come.
"The time for games is over, Zori. If you're not going to let of that childish mask of yours then I'll just have to knock it off."
The click of speed blistering steel sliding out signified the final gamble.
[-]
"Bake-Fuda(Wild Card)!"
This was not the card of Zori; Gato's personal guard.
No, this was the card of Zori; Ronin of Tetsu no Kuni.
Azure light exploded out of his sheath, trailing behind the silver blade in a brilliant stream tethered to the metal.
The attack came in a soaring wild array of numerous ribbons of blue energy trailing after every blurring slash of Zori's katana. It was an attack inspired by a combo found in Koi-Koi, a card game using Hanafuda cards that gave out points between 1-10 depending on the player's choice.
In this combo, the 'points' fired out were most likely ten.
The ribbon-like blades of weaving energy cut against the cement floor of the prison compound's warehouse room, slicing through shelves, building materials, heavy construction equipment, and even grazing the ceiling above. It was a wide-range attack utilizing the samurai of Tetsu no Kuni's ability to channel their chakra to flow along with their weapons and perform Shape Transformation to mold the flowing chakra blade to varying shapes such as axes, polearms, spears, and release crescent wave shock waves from their weapons for long-distance play.
Bake-Fuda was Zori's own personal technique derived from the samurai saber art. By employing Iaidojutsu to the base of the technique, he could fire an incredibly fast ribbon-like wave of cutting chakra that could be tethered to his blade for control or snipped off to target a faraway target. And just like the combo in Koi-Koi, he could either fire one wave or a maximum of ten before it became a strain to his body. If used in the right instances, he could take out tens of foes with this move alone.
This was a card held close to his chest. A move never utilized since he had abandoned the teachings of his masters. A rare card he had left to grow dust as he had never found a reason to play such a serious and powerful card against the weak and fragile villagers he harassed for years. Even with iaido, it lacked its monstrous speed once the ribbons trailed behind the blade.
In other words, this was a card representing the embodiment of his true nature.
Thin brilliant azure ribbons danced after the stalwart teen who decided to step up to the demon's killing spell.
The first limb to go would be the spiky teen's right hand as it stupidly reached out for one of those blue-tinted waves of chakra resembling ribbons.
CRACK!
One of the airborne chakra waves shattered apart upon contact with that ordinary right hand. The entire length of the chakra ribbon withered away as Zori snipped it off before its complete destruction.
"WHAT?!"
Zori nearly lost control of his technique as he bore witness to one of his ribbon blades break apart in Touma's hand. His chakra blade had been shattered to nothing by a hammer that treated it no differently than fragile glass. How was that possible?
It wasn't a one-time occurrence either. Even as he hastily unleashed more of his ribbon waves, Touma charged ahead of the severing barrage with his right hand smashing every blade he met without pause.
"I get it now. Your frustrations, your anger, your disgust, your confusion! It all stems from you! That's why you can't stand me, can you?! It's because you can't accept that someone who started with nothing like you would reject the miserable path you're walking now! You're not like the rest! All those games, the drinking, the denial! It's all to drown out your own regrets and second thoughts! I'm not the one who's responsible for your maddening irritation- blame that on your own conscious, you fucking dumbass!"
Two ribbons flew straight at Touma in the pattern of a criss-cross. His right knuckles plowed right through to erase it from existence as it sheared through three industrial shelves. The contents of the destroyed shelf fell to the floor with a thunderous boom.
"It's time you've stopped minding yourself with games and booze to escape any fault of your own! What you're doing for the sake of escaping past poverty, a past failure, and survival is nothing more than the shittiest excuse I've ever heard from an idiot who buried their unhappiness with a crappy mask!"
Three weaving blades flew behind the other in varying angles designed to chop Touma into gory pieces, chopping through several more shelves and machinery. Touma clawed his right hand's fingers, swiping at the azure chakra ribbons and tearing them to pieces before rolling to the far side to avoid the tumbling waves of numerous building materials coming his way. Explosions rocked his body from a forklift and crane being sliced apart, assailing him with licking flames and hot metal scoring across his body.
Touma pushed on through the jarring pain, drawing closer and catching another tearing chakra ribbon in his hand. Like every other one of Zori's attacks, it was crushed in his fist.
Zori was down to the last 'point' he had in stock. Once he released it, his chakra would be depleted severely. At his current level, he could only ever use Bake-Fuda once in one day before needing to recover his chakra reserves. After using it once, he would be drained and worn out.
Such a cost came upon him when he was freshly exiled from Tetsu no Kuni. The drawback would be far severe now in his current state that had gone years without practicing or growing his training.
That's why this final 'point' had to count! Whatever that boy's right hand was, it didn't matter. Zori was putting his all into silencing that righteous bastard who had the gull to drag those long-buried emotions out from his skin!
Releasing all the chakra his body could expend at its limit, Zori abandoned his iaido form to raise his katana's blade up high in the air. Dust and debris erupted away from his figure as the slim blade howled with a titanic beacon of buzzing azure energy stabbing to the roof above like a great demon's horn. His very life force was dragged out from his trembling body to mold the once elegant ribbon into a terrifying idol of severing fatality.
And finally…
[-]
Touma reached Zori's personal bubble with a screech of sneakers skidding against the floor. All his muscles screamed as the injuries he had collected nearly caused him to fumble in the final step. Fresh blood wet his skin and the toxic cement dust burned his skin hotly.
Something popped like a cork to allow a gush of deeply red liquid flow out from the container.
And yet…
A certain right hand curled all five of its burnt fingers, clenched tightly until it was hard as bedrock, and reared itself in for an uppercut swing.
That broad, towering, sword of blue chakra with the cutting potential to put a buzzsaw to shame met the rising right fist of the spiky-haired boy as the knuckles smacked into the right shearing blue tower. Blood burst from the knuckles deeply cut by the strong edge. Before that final 'point' could cut the world in two-
"This fight isn't about Gato. This fight isn't about saving myself. This isn't about saving this nation or its people! Right here, right now! This fight is about knocking the fake demon off the road spiraling into hell! This boring game is over."
Sawing azure towering towards the roof to stab through the ceiling, capable of cleanly cutting through layers of metal like hot butter, shattered with an audible crack.
In its entirety, the chakra-infused titan was destroyed by an ordinary fist.
An ordinary fist that was cut deeply down the space of the middle finger and ring finger. A groan was heard from either metal or bone.
Before the elegant blade was snapped in two in front of the paralyzed Zori's wide eyes.
Something invisible slithered from a bubble of deep crimson for a brief instance.
Zori's was paralyzed with disbelief. The thug's final gamble had failed. He had run out of cards to continue this grueling game for another round.
The final hand in this lousy game was thrown down with a roar.
"All bets are off! This empty hand of mine is going to trample over your pathetic deck handed down by some pompous bastard. So, you lousy human full of second thoughts and regrets! If you think I'll allow you to continue playing in this unfair game by offering the smiles of others and your own consciousness as collateral then-!"
A right hand, seeping with blood to the point thick dollops trickled down, was pulled far back for one last move.
"I'LL SHATTER THAT LOSING ILLUSION!"
A soft and fragile thought slipped through the cracks created by a nobody.
'Really...was I...was I really content with this lousy game I was playing?'
Those powerful words echoed deep within Zori's skull as that plain right fist smashed deeply into his face. Blinding lights erupted to devour his vision as his brain was struck by the pure force of the blow. The grip on his precious blade, the memento of his past fell away with a clatter as his body was driven back to collide with the hard floor.
It was Game Over.
[-]
Kamijou Touma ran.
He ran away with desperate gasps and blood splattering behind his wake.
At the end of the fight between a high school boy and a disgraced samurai, he had felt it.
That bubbling, stirring, vicious, seething invisible presence churning in his deeply lacerated hand. IT had snapped the deadly katana blade in two with only a bit of its power leaking.
Now though…
"Damn it."
He could feel blood running freely from his side. The jagged thorn in his gut had popped out after all the exertion his wound had endured in his fight with Zori. That fatal leak was releasing copious amounts of blood like a faucet. He didn't need a doctor to tell him.
"Damn it. Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!"
He was going to die. The numbing sensation had already made its way to his heart where it struggled to beat another pump. He lost feeling to the left side of his body and saw the world in a distorted blur that couldn't even make proper shapes. Every breath was a heaving pant from his rasping lungs.
Such a grievous injury was the least of his worries.
Touma ran away from the large warehouse space, away from the opening Naruto left behind to the outside world, and deep into the prison compound with terror-stricken across his face.
He could feel it.
The invisible manifestation of destruction squirm and thrash through the deep laceration in his hand. Hunger born not of emptiness but blood lust. Behemoths bearing the visages of strange and alien myths rumored to be hailed as devils.
What wormed in the gored right hand, tearing muscles and ligaments with disturbing snaps, was a rampage of indiscriminate chaos.
He bit his lower lip, blurry eyes shut tight as he ran with his left hand clenching the broken jail cell warding the mass of invisible things.
There had to be somewhere! Somewhere deep inside the compound, maybe an underground space, a basement! Anywhere away from others where he could try to contain-
An unsettling pop was heard from his gored flesh as the world fell to darkness.
He sunk into the cold abyss with two parting faces in his thoughts.
A lovely silver-haired nun in white and gold.
His Beacon.
And a golden-haired fairy with one eye.
His Understander.
[-]
Something shattered.
An invisible presence burst with a sticky sound.
Mass void of visible distinctions. Bubbling. Seething. Pulsing. Reactive. Volatile.
Invisible matter rampaged without cause. A hurricane of colorless force struck the surrounding world with thick impacts to decimate everything it touched. It was a blind idiot who attacked instead of bothering to think.
Until…
Claws were born.
Strange scales pulsed.
The colorless force gained clarity, colored by bizarre hues straying from the beautiful arc of a rainbow.
Its colors did not exist naturally in the pure world of man. Toxic yet alluring. Vicious yet soothing. Bold yet brittle. Vile yet kind.
A bizarre set of serrated knife-like teeth grinned with exhilaration as it breathed.
And a deafening roar was heard, shaking the very building, shattering its glass windows, and causing all fighting outside the walls to pause in fear and terror of the alien sound said to be found only in fantasy.
There is nowhere in this world for a child like you to fit. You are a piece with no place to gently fit into.
Without that lovely world, you fought so desperately to always return to...what are you? You've faced that question once before. So, why is it any different now?
And, if you do discover a way back to your original world...
Will it still be you? Or will this new land change who you believe you are?
And that seals the door on this little side adventure, doesn't it?
When first coming up with this side-arc, it was originally no more than three chapters. Touma meets Waraji(Ch.1), Touma is thrown into a cell and meets with Kyofu(Ch.2), and Touma breaks out and fights Zori(Ch.3). But like much of the reworked chapters for this story, I felt everything was rushed. It was like a roasted rib bone with a few decent chunks of meat; said meat wasn't even properly cooked. A lot of what I had originally written back during those months without work during quarantine wasn't properly organized or thought up of. I simply typed away whatever came to mind.
If this was the me from nearly eight years ago, I would have published all 11 written chapters with just one revision run. If you don't know, an edit run is simply a read-through of a chapter while making edits and changes. I'd never make any cuts or major changes to what was already written. Nowadays, I do more than five runs of any chapter before uploading it to fanfiction for the final revision. And sometimes I would cut away entire sections of a chapter or just redo it from the ground up all over again; several times even.
Written work is kinda, in my opinion, like wine. It needs to be left alone before you serve it. You need to let it ferment and mature. But the thing with writing is that you can alter its properties as it sits. Give it a sip after some time alone, roll it around your tongue, and continue to improve it. If at first, you thought it tasted sweet but find yourself lightly grimacing, you can change its contents until that final sip brings you a pleased and content sigh.
And I'm glad I continued to improve, change, and alter this half of what's a finished product. I feel what I have now, when compared to the original chapters I had completed a year ago, has more oomph!
This half of the arc was intended for Touma to confront the types of individuals his greatest power would fail to impact; his compassion and empathy. As another reviewer already pointed out before, Touma has fought against such people before. OT4 has him fighting against Hino Jinsaku, a serial killer who murdered 28 people before he was imprisoned. But with that kind of individual, I feel that there was still something human to him.
Waraji was a human who did evil acts, not because of a tragic backstory, a mental disorder, or to fulfill some grand scheme. He was cruel because he was cruel. He killed because it was what he enjoyed. Like many who followed under Gato's rule, he was an individual who didn't need excuses as to explain why he trampled over the hearts of others for a sick thrill. Inside his heart, there wasn't anything a boy(who had found empathy in the heart of a terrible war god) could connect with or accept. To do so would be inviting something vile to his own heart.
If there's nothing for Touma to save with his opponent then his moves become far more savage and brutal. It's an unconscious change he wouldn't be able to notice in the heat of battle. At least that's my take. But we've seen instances like that before in canon.
Aurelous Izzard, The SkyBus terrorist...
Kamijou no Touma.
If he'd continue fighting against such unforgivable monsters then he'd be dyed in their colors. He'd lose his compassion. Against demons, why would a normal high school boy refrain from tearing into them with sharp claws?
That's where people like Kyofu, Anmi and her daughters, Boshi's wish, Naruto, and even Zori come in.
He needed the kindness of humans to stave off that vicious atmosphere from corrupting him. He needed an invisible spark of warmth to see through the dark. He needed someone familiar to escape that cesspool.
And he needed to find humanity in the chest of a so-called demon to prove to him that his simple fist was still the right tool to wield instead of weapons designed to kill.
I took a lot of creative liberties with the characters of Waraji and Zori here. In the original Naruto, they were measly guards to Gato and nothing more. Hell, they were defeated in a few panels in the manga by Naruto. They were just grunts who held no real threat.
But I wanted to change that. Because from the perspective of someone without any talents, any supernatural power, any special powers gifted at birth; to the ordinary person who wasn't a main character, those two grunts were terrifying.
Touma lays on a strange power level. Weak yet powerful. One who can dismantle a spear that tears through space and time with a fist but fail to block a measly jagged butter knife.
I wanted him to battle against ordinary people who were powerful on the ordinary level. The type he would always struggle with so long as he refused to change.
Zori was a blank slate, a character I felt I could utilize to tell more to the same old story we've known for years. I added more depth, more history, and more character to what was a grunt who looked like a street thug. Because there could be more to him other than the title of Gato's ruthless sword.
That was what Touma was searching for. He had started the fight using whatever brutal methods he could to take down who he saw as another senseless demon he couldn't talk to. But as the fight progressed, he discovered that there was more to the thug who couldn't understand why he hadn't joined into their games. And when he finally dug deep, he found a grain of empathy so that he could clench his fist without the rush of bloodlust driving him forward.
And so ends this detour from the main path. Undoubtedly, this event is bound to change how things progress. One of Gato's bases has been attacked, many of his men were beaten into the dirt, two of his personal guards are out of action, and the people he had imprisoned have gained a rebellious spark.
Not to mention our favorite idiot has been heavily wounded at the end of their fight. Without Heaven Canceler, how will he bounce back in time to clash with the likes of Momochi Zabuza?
And just what the hell was that unnerving pressure felt all around the world for a brief instance? Let alone those bizarre teeth grinning at the end?
Well, I guess you'll all have to wait and see.
...Poor bastards.
Until then, Read and Review! It's common courtesy.
Oh! That reminds me. Since I got a new laptop that actually lets me play games on Steam, you can reach me there under the alias of NeoShadows; profile pick is the Dishonored sigil. Just in case there are any Destiny 2 fans or anyone who wants to play games and chat.
NeoShadows fading in and out.
