The pale light of dawn struggled to pierce the heavy clouds that hung low over the city, casting a somber shadow over the gathering crowd. Murmurs spread like wildfire as people from all walks of life, drawn by a mix of fear and curiosity, converged toward the makeshift gallows. Merchants, samurai, and commoners alike whispered amongst themselves, their faces etched with apprehension as the tension in the air thickened.
"Did you hear what he did?" a merchant whispered, his voice barely audible above the growing clamor. "They say he dared to speak against the shogunate!"
"Against the Tairo himself!" another added, eyes wide with a mixture of horror and intrigue. "He claimed our traditions are being washed away by foreign influence."
As the crowd continued to swell, an oppressive silence fell. The executioner, a figure draped in dark robes, took his place before the assembled masses, a menacing presence. The scholar, bound and kneeling on the platform, was forced to meet the judgment of the very people he had sought to awaken.
With a steely gaze, the executioner raised his voice, commanding attention. "People of Edo! You stand witness to a traitor's fate—a man who has incited rebellion against the very foundations of our nation!" His voice cut through the murmurs, a sharp reminder of the power he wielded. "He has spoken out against the wisdom of Tairo Ii Naosuke, calling for the expulsion of foreign influences, and has poisoned the minds of the youth with his treasonous ideals!"
The scholar, unyielding in his resolve, lifted his head despite his restraints, meeting the eyes of those who had gathered. "I did not poison anyone!" he called out, voice strong amidst the oppressive atmosphere. "I have only spoken the truth! The westernization you embrace is a betrayal of our identity and heritage. To follow foreign masters is to lose ourselves!"
The crowd shifted restlessly, torn between their ingrained loyalty to the shogunate and the scholar's fervent words. Some exchanged uneasy glances, questioning the narrative fed to them. Others appeared resolute, nodding in agreement with the executioner's grim proclamation.
"Silence him!" someone shouted from the back, igniting a ripple of agreement among those who feared dissent.
The executioner continued, unfazed. "You are here to witness justice! This man's sedition threatens the peace we have fought so hard to maintain. He stands against progress, against the unification of our beloved Japan! His execution is a necessity, a measure to ensure stability!"
As he spoke, a group of guards emerged, flanking the platform, their eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of insurrection. The tension coiled tighter, as if the air itself held its breath.
The scholar's voice rang out once more, fervent and defiant. "You may silence me, but you cannot silence the truth! The spirit of Japan will not be extinguished! We will rise against tyranny!"
A wave of murmurs surged through the crowd, a mixture of fear and admiration for the scholar's bravery. The executioner's patience waned. "Enough!" he bellowed, lifting his sword high, its blade gleaming ominously in the fading light. "Let this serve as a lesson to all who would dare oppose the shogunate!"
The blade swung down without a second's hesitation, cleaving the air with a sharp whistle. There was no time for further protest, no moment for final words. The scholar's head fell cleanly from his body, tumbling to the wooden platform with a sickening thud, his expression frozen in defiant resolve. Blood spattered across the executioner's feet, pooling beneath the lifeless form as a hush fell over the crowd.
The silence following the execution was suffocating, as if the entire city held its breath. The scholar's severed head lay motionless, eyes still wide with the passion that had driven him to his end. His body slumped forward, lifeless, a stark contrast to the fiery spirit that had just spoken out against the might of the shogunate.
For a moment, the crowd was paralyzed—no one moved, no one spoke. The only sound was the soft, rhythmic drip of blood hitting the platform, mixing with the dirt below. The oppressive weight of the execution lingered, heavy in the hearts of those who had borne witness.
Some of the onlookers, faces pale and expressions grim, turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer. A few murmurs broke the silence, hushed whispers of fear and uncertainty.
From above the rooftops, an Assassin watched the grim spectacle unfold below. He perched like a raven on a high beam, his eyes narrowing on the executioner, a man with blood on his hands and the arrogance of power in his posture. The crowd's murmurs faded into the background as he honed in on his target.
The executioner's blade gleamed under the dim light of dawn, still stained with the blood of the scholar. As the guards began to escort him away, the Assassin felt the weight of urgency press against his chest. This was no ordinary execution; it was a public display of oppression, and he was determined to turn the tables.
With a swift and silent motion, he adjusted the hood of his cloak, shrouding his features in darkness. He measured the distance to the ground, calculating the trajectory with precision. He would not just kill this man; he would make a statement, and the execution ground would become a stage for justice.
As the executioner stepped down, the Assassin sprang into action. He launched himself from the rooftop, plummeting through the air with the grace of an eagle descending upon its prey. The world below blurred into a tapestry of color and sound, but his focus remained razor-sharp.
In a fluid motion, he unfurled his arms, allowing the hidden blades to extend with a soft click. The crowd below had begun to disperse, but those closest to the execution platform turned in confusion, their faces painted with shock and awe as they realized what was happening.
Time slowed as he descended, his cloak billowing behind him like the wings of a great bird. He could hear the guards shouting in alarm, but their cries were swallowed by the rush of wind around him.
Then, in a breath-stealing instant, he landed on the execution platform, the wooden boards creaking beneath him. The executioner's eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth opening to scream a warning that never came.
The Assassin struck with lethal precision, his blade piercing through the air and finding its mark. The executioner's body fell, thudding heavily to the ground, the weight of his tyranny finally lifted.
Gasps erupted from the crowd as they realized what had transpired. The tension shattered, replaced by chaos and confusion.
The guards, frozen for a brief second, snapped into action as the realization dawned on them. "Stop him!" one of the officers shouted, his voice strained over the panicked cries of the people. He shoved his way through the mass of bodies, trying to force a path toward the execution platform. Others followed, their hands gripping the hilts of their swords, eyes wild with urgency.
But then, the air grew cold and thick with unease. Red eyes glimmered above the panicked crowd, and before anyone could make sense of it, heads—multiple, identical heads—began to float in the air, circling menacingly. It was Sekibanki.
She stood amidst the chaos, her red hair tousled beneath a blue bow with red trimmings, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Her black and red long-sleeved shirt blended with the darkened atmosphere, while her capelet fluttered slightly as her heads darted and zipped around the frantic crowd. The dark red skirt she wore swayed as her body remained still, seemingly detached from the wild chaos her abilities were creating. With her face partially hidden beneath her cape, only her sharp, cynical grin was visible as she watched the unfolding pandemonium.
"Looks like today's execution didn't go quite as planned, huh?" Sekibanki mused aloud, her voice mocking and casual as one of her flying heads hovered just above a terrified merchant's head. "I suppose I'll help… spice things up a little."
Suddenly, her head detached from her body, floating effortlessly into the sky. And then it multiplied—two heads, four heads, a dozen—until there were too many to count. Each one darted in a different direction, creating an overwhelming flurry of disembodied faces that leered at the guards and citizens alike.
One of the heads swooped low, grazing the top of a samurai's helmet. He stumbled backward in panic, flailing at the air as if struck by some invisible force. Another head zipped past a villager, cackling wildly as it dodged his swinging arms. "Running already?" the head teased, "I thought you were supposed to be brave warriors!"
More heads flew through the crowd, spinning in erratic patterns, their glowing red eyes tracking every movement. Each head moved independently, some circling overhead like predatory birds, while others darted close to the ground, creating a disorienting spectacle. Every time a guard tried to strike one down, it would vanish, only to reappear a second later, floating mockingly just out of reach.
One guard drew his sword and slashed at a head that had come too close. His blade passed through it as though cutting through mist, and the head reappeared behind him, laughing cruelly. "Didn't anyone tell you? You can't kill what isn't really there!"
As Sekibanki's floating heads multiplied further, they filled the air, creating an overwhelming, surreal nightmare. Some of the heads snapped and hissed at civilians, while others floated silently above the guards, watching them with eerie stillness. The crowd, unable to distinguish illusion from reality, erupted into full-blown chaos.
"Look at them scatter!" Sekibanki said, her real body standing calmly amidst the turmoil, her red and blue capelet shifting slightly in the breeze. "Humans are so predictable when they're scared. And the best part? I'm not even trying!"
Suddenly, several heads launched themselves toward the guards, weaving between them like darting birds. Each time a guard tried to strike, they missed, their swords hitting only air or innocent bystanders. One head flew directly into the face of an officer, who screamed and flailed as it hovered just inches from his nose, sneering at him. "Having a bad day? Don't worry, it'll get worse!"
In another corner of the crowd, one of Sekibanki's heads swooped low, brushing a bystander's shoulder before vanishing into thin air. The man shrieked, stumbling backward into a merchant's cart, toppling it over. Pots and fruits spilled across the street, adding to the growing bedlam.
Sekibanki was in her element, her cynical amusement evident as her heads continued to multiply, each one adding to the overwhelming confusion. The guards, completely out of their depth, found themselves surrounded, their ranks breaking as they struggled to maintain any semblance of order. "You're all running around like headless chickens," Sekibanki jeered, her laughter echoing from each floating head. "How fitting!"
One guard, his patience worn thin, lunged forward, swinging his katana in a desperate attempt to cut down the flying heads. But just as his blade connected with one, it vanished, reappearing directly behind him. "Missed me!" it taunted before swooping toward another group of guards, weaving through them with dizzying speed.
As the crowd descended into full-blown panic, Sekibanki's heads filled the air like a swarm of red-eyed locusts. The sheer number of them made it impossible for the guards to focus on any one threat, and in their confusion, they found themselves crashing into each other, their movements becoming more frantic with every passing second.
Sekibanki herself watched with detached amusement, her real body hidden among the chaos. Her long red skirt and black-and-red outfit fluttered as she stood, perfectly calm, enjoying the spectacle she had created. "This is too easy," she said to herself, crossing her arms beneath her capelet. "I almost feel sorry for them. Almost."
Amidst the chaos, the Assassin had vanished from sight, slipping away through the confusion Sekibanki had so expertly crafted. The guards were too distracted, too overwhelmed by the flying heads and the panicking crowd to even notice. Sekibanki's cynical grin deepened as she watched the final stages of her chaotic masterpiece unfold.