Chapter 8: Blood-Stained Hands

Masayuki's pulse hammered in his ears, loud and insistent, as if his own body were screaming for him to run, but there was nowhere to go. The hallway stretched out behind them, long and empty, and at the end of it, the man trudged closer and closer, each step deliberate, slow, and menacing.

Kira was practically glued to his side, her body trembling as she hyperventilated, her breaths coming in rapid gasps. "No... no... please, make it stop, make it stop..." she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper, her panic rising with every inch her father gained on them.

Masayuki raised his arm instinctively to shield her, even though he knew it would do little good. His heart was pounding like a war drum inside his chest, but there was something worse than the fear crawling up his spine: the realization that they were trapped. The exit was blocked by the looming figure of Takumi Hojo, Kira's father, and the opposite end of the hall led to nothing but empty classrooms. They were cornered.

Hojo's face was half-hidden in the dim light of the setting sun, but what Masayuki could see chilled him to his core. There was a wildness in his eyes, a desperate attempt to feign calm that only made him look more unhinged. His mouth twitched into something that might have been a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes—it was a dead man's smile, full of emptiness.

Masayuki's stomach churned as he noticed something glistening on the man's shirt. His blood ran cold. It was unmistakable now—the dark, wet patches on Hojo's clothes were blood. Whose blood? Masayuki's mind screamed. His gut twisted as he silently prayed it was Mizuki's blood, but deep down, he knew it wasn't.

The smell hit him next—a sickening mix of alcohol and fresh blood. The metallic tang in the air made his throat burn, the pungent stench of rot and booze assaulting his senses.

Hojo took another slow step forward, his right hand still hidden behind his back. Masayuki knew, without a doubt, that whatever he was hiding wasn't good. His mind raced, the pieces falling into place: the blood, the drunken swagger, the crazed look in his eyes. Hojo had crossed a line—no, he had leapt over it.

"Come here, Kira," Hojo said, his voice a sickly sweet mockery of affection, but there was an edge to it, a threat barely veiled beneath the surface. "Come here before something bad happens."

Kira froze, her entire body locking up in terror. She shook her head violently, her grip on Masayuki's arm tightening until her nails dug into his skin. "No... no..." she whimpered, her breaths coming in short, panicked bursts.

Masayuki took a step back, instinctively pulling Kira further behind him. His mind was racing, but his body felt numb. He couldn't let her go to him. He couldn't let that bastard touch her.

"Kira..." Hojo's voice darkened, his eyes narrowing as he realized his daughter wasn't coming to him. His face twisted into a grotesque sneer, and the thin veneer of civility cracked. "You better come now, or you'll regret it." The threat was clear.

Masayuki's heart raced, his palms slick with sweat. He knew he stood no chance against a shinobi—especially one as unhinged as Hojo. He didn't have the strength, the skill, or the experience. He had a few weeks of basic academy-level training and a couple of shuriken at his disposal. He was screwed.

Then it happened. Hojo's patience snapped, and he charged at them, his hand flying out from behind his back, revealing the blood-stained kunai clutched in his fist.

"Shit!" Masayuki barely had time to react. The man was a blur of motion, the kunai aimed directly at them. Instinct kicked in, and Masayuki grabbed Kira, diving to the side just in time to avoid being impaled by the blade. They hit the floor hard, the wind knocked out of Masayuki's lungs as they skidded across the wooden floor.

Hojo stumbled forward, his momentum carrying him past them. The sharp, metallic smell of blood and alcohol filled the air, and Masayuki's stomach twisted in revulsion. The man reeked of booze, his movements sloppy and uncoordinated. If he hadn't been drunk, they would probably both be dead by now.

Hojo swore under his breath, struggling to regain his balance. He stumbled forward, swaying on his feet as he turned to face them again, his eyes wild with fury.

Masayuki's mind raced. He didn't have much time. He had to act now while the bastard was still off balance. His hand flew to the pouch at his waist, fumbling for the shuriken he had brought with him. His fingers closed around the cool metal, and he pulled out three of them, his heart hammering in his chest.

He had to do something. Anything.

With a grunt, Masayuki hurled the shuriken at Hojo, praying that at least one of them would hit its mark.

Two of them found their target. One lodged itself deep into Hojo's thigh, while the other buried itself into his stomach.

Hojo growled in pain, doubling over as blood oozed from the wounds, staining his already blood-soaked clothes. But instead of stopping him, the pain seemed to enrage him further. His eyes burned with hatred as he straightened up, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps.

"You little shit," Hojo spat, his voice thick with venom. "I'll kill you too. After I'm done with her." His eyes flicked to Kira, his lips curling into a twisted smile.

Kira let out a small whimper, shrinking further behind Masayuki, her entire body trembling with fear. Masayuki's heart sank. He had managed to wound the man, but it wasn't enough. Hojo was still standing, still dangerous, and he was coming for them.

Hojo charged again, his kunai slashing wildly through the air as he stumbled toward them. Masayuki and Kira scrambled to dodge his attacks, the training they had done over the weekend flashing through Masayuki's mind. His muscles remembered the stances, the footwork, and for a moment, he and Kira managed to stay out of Hojo's reach.

But it couldn't last forever.

"I've had enough of this," Hojo snarled, his voice slurring. "Kira, it's time to join your mother."

The words hit Kira like a physical blow. Her body froze, her mind reeling as the reality of what her father had just said sank in. Her mother was dead. Her father had killed her. All because Kira had run away. This was her fault.

Kira's legs buckled beneath her, her body going limp as the shock of it all overwhelmed her. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. The world around her spun, the walls closing in on her as her father's voice echoed in her mind.

Masayuki saw the change in her instantly. She was paralyzed, frozen in place as her father closed in on her, his kunai raised high, ready to strike. There was no time. She wasn't moving, and he couldn't let her die. He wouldn't let her die.

Masayuki's grip tightened on the kunai he had stashed in his other pouch. His mind went blank, his body moving on instinct. With a fierce yell, he charged at Hojo, the blade clutched tightly in both hands.

The kunai sank into Hojo's torso with a sickening squelch, the blade tearing through skin, muscle, and bone. Masayuki felt the resistance as the blade pierced the man's ribs, the sensation sending a jolt of nausea through his body. Blood spurted out in a thick spray, coating Masayuki's face and hands.

Hojo let out a gurgled cry, his body jerking in shock as he stumbled back. But Masayuki didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He pulled the kunai from Hojo's chest and plunged it in again, and again, and again. Each strike was harder, more desperate, more frantic than the last. Blood splattered across the hallway, the metallic scent thick in the air.

Hojo fell to the floor, gasping for breath, his hands clutching at his chest as blood pooled in his lungs. He flailed weakly, his body twitching as he struggled to breathe, but it was no use. His movements slowed, then stopped altogether, his eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Masayuki stood over the man's body, his chest heaving as he clutched the blood-stained kunai in his trembling hands. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding so loudly it felt like it might burst out of his chest. He had just... killed someone.

The world around him blurred, his vision swimming as the reality of what he had just done hit him like a freight train. Blood covered his hands, warm and sticky, and it took everything in him not to vomit right then and there.

Kira had finally regained enough control to look up. The sight before her was nothing short of horrifying. Masayuki stood over her father's lifeless body, his hands shaking, the kunai still clutched tightly in his grip. Blood—so much blood—was splattered across the floor, the walls, and Masayuki himself. Her father's body lay in a pool of it, his face contorted in a grotesque mixture of pain and shock. The reality of the situation slammed into her like a sledgehammer.

Her father was dead. Gone.

For a moment, Kira couldn't move. She couldn't even think. It was as if the world had slowed to a crawl, every sound muffled, every color dulled. Masayuki had saved her, but at what cost? The man who had tormented her for so long, the man she had feared for most of her life, was lying dead at her feet. And she hadn't even been able to do anything. It had all been Masayuki.

As she looked at him, at the horrified expression frozen on his face, something inside her broke. She took a shaky step forward, then another, and then without thinking, she wrapped her arms around Masayuki from behind, hugging him tightly. She could feel his body trembling beneath her touch, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

Masayuki didn't say a word. He stood there, clutching the kunai so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. The blood dripped from his hands, thick and sticky, staining the floor beneath him.

"I'm sorry," Kira whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible. "I'm so sorry Ma-Kun…"

Masayuki's breath hitched in his throat, but he didn't respond. He couldn't. The reality of what he had done was crashing over him like a tidal wave, threatening to pull him under. He had just killed a man. Yes, it had been in self-defense. Yes, it had been to save Kira. But the blood on his hands felt like a weight he could never wash off.

It was then that the lights in the hallway suddenly flickered on, flooding the dim corridor with harsh, bright light.

"Masayuki! Kira!" A voice boomed from the end of the hallway.

Masayuki flinched, the kunai slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor with a metallic clang. He didn't need to look up to recognize the voice. It was Iruka.

Iruka's footsteps echoed through the now illuminated hallway as he and Hiruzen hurried toward them, followed by a pair of ANBU agents. Iruka's eyes darted around, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness, but when he saw the grizzly scene before him—Masayuki standing in front of the body of Hojo, Kira wrapped around him—the blood drained from his face.

"Oh, no… fuck… no…" Iruka muttered under his breath, his steps faltering for a moment as he took in the horror of it all.

He broke into a sprint, closing the gap between them in seconds. His arms wrapped around the two kids, pulling them into a tight embrace, his breath shaky and uneven. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry… I should've been here sooner."

Masayuki didn't say anything. His arms hung limply at his sides as Iruka's warmth enveloped him, but his mind was still reeling, still trying to process the nightmare he had just lived through. He had expected a fight, sure—but not this. Not... killing someone.

Kira, on the other hand, couldn't hold back anymore. Her tears came in uncontrollable sobs, her entire body shaking against Iruka's chest. "Iruka-sensei," she choked out between gasps. "My mother… he killed her..."

Iruka's arms tightened around them both. His heart broke for the two children, and he felt his own tears threaten to spill over. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I'm so, so sorry…"

Behind him, Hiruzen stood silently, his face an unreadable mask as he surveyed the scene before him. The Third Hokage was rarely surprised by anything, but this—this hit him harder than he had expected. Hojo's actions had shocked him, but the sight of these two young children standing in the midst of such violence, blood on their hands, was too much to bear.

Hiruzen's jaw clenched, and he forced himself to take a deep breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The future of Konoha—children like Kira and Masayuki—had been put in grave danger, right under his nose. The thought made his chest tighten with guilt. He was the Hokage, the one responsible for ensuring the safety of all the village's citizens, especially the children.

How had it come to this? How had he allowed something so dark, so violent, to unfold in his own village?


This chapter was not easy to write and definitely took longer than expected. I put a lot of effort into capturing their reactions and emotions as realistically as possible—after all, they're just kids, and this kind of experience would naturally shock them.

I really hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you did, I'd love to hear your thoughts in a review. Don't forget to follow or favourite to stay up-to-date with the story!