Movement speed on land was one thing, but the way these guys leaped from tree to tree was something only years of training could achieve. If they weren't demons and they clearly weren't, with the sun already up, the only other possibility I could think of was Demon Slayers. As far as I knew, no other faction in this era moved like that.
I stepped out from the cover of the carts and looked up into the tall trees. The more I focused, the clearer their movements became, despite their efforts to stay hidden. As I'd guessed, there were three of them. The downside was obvious, I was now exposed in the open, an easy target for whatever they threw next.
Right on cue, all three hurled small knives at me in unison. I parried two with my tanto, timed the third perfectly, caught it by the handle mid-air, and flung it back at the closest one. I aimed for his leg as he'd survive that.
A sharp scream ripped through the morning air. He dropped from the tree and hit the ground hard with a thud. The other two froze for a split second, stunned. I didn't waste it.
I bolted forward, planted my foot on the trunk of the nearest tree, and kicked off, launching myself upward. I appeared beside one of them in an instant. His head was wrapped in black linen, only his brown eyes visible. They met mine for a heartbeat before I drove my fist into his gut. I felt ribs crack under the impact. His pupils rolled back, and he went limp, unconsciously dropped from the tree.
In the same motion I leaped to the next tree. The third one saw me coming and swung a blade at my head. I bent backward, letting the slash pass over me, then landed behind him as he tried to turn. My hand connected with his cheekbone in a clean strike. He crumpled the same way as his partner.
All three were down—two out cold, the third writhing in pain, struggling to pull the knife from his leg. As I closed in, he finally yanked it free, raised it high, and aimed it at his own neck. I appeared beside him in a flash, kicked the blade from his hand, pinned both his wrists under my feet, gripped his neck, and pressed the edge of my tanto to the corner of his eye.
"What were you trying to do?" I demanded, even though I already knew the answer. Rage boiled inside me, hoping he'd give me something, anything else to hear.
He was shaking hard, his eyes darting from the blade to my face.
Behind me, Pacho and the surviving guards crawled out from under the carts and stared at the scene.
The more I looked at him, the more familiar his clothes became. Black linen wraps, practical and concealing straight out of the old movies I remembered. Ninjas. No doubt about it. I had seen people dressed like this back in the village too. But who sent them? Were they after Pacho, or was I the real target? Fuck!! It must be Mr Shuichi
"Who sent you?" I pressed. "Answer me. I won't ask again."
He said nothing, just stared at the tanto and me.
I shifted the blade to his arm. "I swear to God, I won't fucking ask again."
Still no response. He just stared, almost daring me.
I drove the tanto into his arm. He bit back a scream, letting out only a hard grunt.
He refused to speak. I pulled the blade free, moved higher up his arm, and struck again. Another grunt. I repeated the process, climbing slowly up his arm until I was back at his eyes, now red, wet with tears.
I didn't want to keep going, but he was leaving me no choice. Pacho and the guards watched me like I was some kind of monster. I hated it, but I couldn't stop. These men were skilled. Someone had sent them with a grudge against Pacho, against me, or maybe both. If I let them go, more would come. And Pacho would never be safe.
"Who sent you?"
He gave me only silence.
"You leave me no choice," I whispered, lowering the tanto toward his eye while silently begging him to speak.
Pacho said something behind me, trying to stop me, but the world had gone quiet. All I heard was my own breathing and his ragged panting. Then, finally…
"I don't know. I don't know, I swear."
Relief hit me like cold water. I dropped the tanto and exhaled hard like I had received a valuable information.
He relaxed a fraction too, muscles loosening under my grip. From his voice, he sounded young—early twenties at most.
"Where are you from?" I asked.
He shook his head frantically. "I can't tell you. Please, I can't."
"You don't know who sent you to kill us, and you can't say where you're from. You're very useless to us." I reached for the tanto again. This time he reacted, real fear flashing across his face, unlike before.
"The only reason I'm talking is because…" He trailed off, eyes glazing for a second before refocusing. "…they're asleep. I can give you some information, but not everything."
"Fine. First, who sent you to kill me?"
"You are not the one we were sent to kill. He is." He glanced over my shoulder at Pacho.
I turned a little and saw the worry on his face.
"Who wants him dead?"
"I don't know. We only received the command—" He cut himself off.
"Talk. Who gave the command?"
He glanced around the woods nervously before answering, as if looking for stray eyes and ears. "The General." he whispered.
"The General?"
"Yes. He oversees the mission."
"This General doesn't have a name?"
"Nobody knows his real name. We call him…The Crusher."
The Crusher. Hmm.
"Where can I find this Crusher?"
"We have a tent. Four miles northwest from here." He said it quickly, almost eagerly.
"Four miles?" That was far, good minutea out of our way. "We have to go."
I released him, tore a strip from my hakama, and handed it over for his arm.
"Four miles is far. It will burn away time from our journey. We need to keep going ahead," one of Pacho's useless guards dared to say.
"We need to keep going ahead? In case you may have forgotten, I am not the one being paid to guard Pacho, but here I am doing your job and protecting your asses while at it and you have the… stupid brains to think that taking care of these people isn't your priority." I walked up to him. "I know the game you're trying to play here, you just want to make sure Pacho is delivered to Kageguiri so you can take your money and run away, right? But guess what, if we don't take care of those guys, sooner or later in this journey you may end up like your friends over there."
I left him to his thoughts and walked over to Pacho, reminiscing on Mr. Shuichi's words about money getting you the bare minimum in this era.
I patted Pacho on his shoulder. I could see the fear in his eyes—he isn't used to this kind of thing, none of them are, but this is the world outside those fancy walls.
"You need to brace yourself," I said and he nodded. "We'll be going after their general, to put a stop to the bounty on top of your head. I have this feeling that we know who they are. You?"
"Yes, they are from the village."
"Yeah, that's right. They are from home. The more reason to see who this Crusher guy is."
Pacho put himself together as I moved to the unconscious men on the floor. We need to take care of them. Taking a rope used for our tents, we tied them firmly to the tree and stripped them of any weapons they had on them. By the time we were done the other guy had cleaned himself and stopped the bleeding on his hand.
"Good, you're ready. You'll be free to go—"
"Thank you thank you—"
"No, no, don't thank me yet. You'll be free to go after you've taken us to the Crusher." The joy in his face vanished as soon as I stated the terms.
"No, that's… that's not possible."
"Why?"
"I would die. He'll kill me."
"He won't kill you as long as you're by my side," I assured him.
"No, you don't understand. He can… he will kill me." He insisted, clearly misunderstanding the fact that he had no choice in this.
I grabbed him by the other arm. "Well, you'll be guiding us whether you like it or not."
I pulled him and he pleaded as though begging for his life, but it was already made clear: he was taking us there and the reasons were numerous. We left the carts behind with the captives and went forward to meet this Crusher guy.