Midnight passed. The capital had fallen into its deepest silence.
Not the silence of peace.
The silence of still water before a stone breaks the surface.
Keiji knelt upon a moon-shaded rooftop, masked and cloaked, the night wind brushing past as faint wisps of cloud slid across the moon. Gengar drifted beside him, shape shifting subtly, expression unreadable.
Below them, the mansion of Kanzō Tokudaiji rested like a dark jewel among polished gardens and tall lacquered walls. Paper lanterns flickered along the outer walkways.
Guards walked methodically along their paths. A trained watch force, not complacent. Always alert. Always prepared.
Yet their preparation had not accounted for a ghost.
Keiji placed two fingers to the rooftop tiles and felt their warmth, retained from the daylight sun. His eyes narrowed slightly behind the spiral mask.
"Now. The quietest hour."
Gengar nodded. Its body dissolved briefly into a shifting haze of shadow and smoke.
Keiji's presence thinned, chakra melting into the night air until even the wind could not tell where he began and where the dark ended.
He moved.
A single step.
A silent landing.
A soft glide along the tiles.
He descended from the roof without disturbing a single tile or stirring a single breath of air. Gengar, a silent purple wisp, hovered at his side, weightless, unbound.
A guard at the main gate blinked as a faint chill passed over him. He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze drifting to the empty courtyard.
Nothing.
Keiji slipped past him.
---
The Gardens and the First Layer of Guards
The advisor's gardens were not large. They were artfully arranged as a statement of controlled elegance.
Neatly trimmed pines.
Raked gravel patterns.
Softly murmuring water channels carved into stone.
Keiji's steps followed the rippling water's rhythm. This minimized sound. Even if someone strained their ears, the flow of water masked any trace of movement.
The first guard patrol passed.
Two men. Silent. Trained. Not weak.
Keiji reached out, pressed two fingers to the pressure point beneath the lead guard's collarbone. Soft. Quick. Precise. The man collapsed silently, eyes closing as if falling asleep.
The second turned slightly, sensing movement.
Gengar was behind him in an instant.
A light tap to the back of the neck.
He fell with just the faintest sigh of air.
Keiji dragged neither. Bodies remained where they fell, arranged as though they had simply grown tired and leaned against the wooden railing to rest.
No alarm.
No disturbance.
This was not brutality.
This was precision.
He and Gengar continued.
---
Servant Wings and the Sleeper's Breath
The mansion's servant quarters were quiet. Paper doors were shut, and the faint scent of herbal incense drifted through the air. Night incense to encourage deep sleep.
Keiji stepped lightly over sleeping mats, moving with the natural rhythm of the building. Every servant remained untouched. Kept alive. Kept unaware.
No lives would be taken tonight.
Not because Keiji feared death—but because the absence of death would create more uncertainty.
More fear.
More confusion.
More questions.
People would ask how.
Not why.
Mystery was a weapon sharper than steel.
Gengar, small as a palm shadow now, slipped through door seams like mist. It guided Keiji by tapping once on his shoulder when a guard turned, paused, or shifted breathing pattern.
They crossed a corridor lit only by moon filtering through a paper wall.
Voices murmured softly inside a side room.
A husband and wife.
The advisor's First and second son.
Talking about silk import levies and the price of rice.
Keiji did not look inside. He stored only the tone of their voices.
Calm families. Sleeping children. Warm blankets. Peaceful domestic lives.
These were also threads of power.
He did not tug them yet.
---
Second Layer: Family Guard Suite
The guards here were different.
Heavier armor.
Longer spears.
More disciplined stances.
No idle conversation.
Eyes sharp even during night shift.
Keiji crouched behind a wooden pillar.
Gengar drifted upward and placed its palm gently on Keiji's mask.
A pulse of ghost chakra spread.
Where Keiji had previously been invisible to attention, he now shed even the faint trace of warmth. A shadow without heat. A presence without rhythm.
The guards would never think to look for what their senses could not define.
Keiji slipped past the first rank of hallway watchmen.
Two stood near the main stairway. Their breathing even. Their weight evenly distributed. Perfect posture. Elite training.
Keiji inhaled and moved.
Gengar flowed like smoke under their feet. Keiji tapped both guards at the back base of the spine. The nerves numbed instantly.
They sagged into a sitting position, heads bowing as though they had simply nodded off.
Keiji continued upward, step after step.
---
The Third Layer: The Advisor's Personal Wing
The air grew heavier here.
Not guarded by men.
Guarded by atmosphere.
Authority was a scent.
Confidence a scent.
Power its own perfume in the dark.
Keiji stepped into a corridor lined with old tapestries depicting sagas of the Land of Fire. Heroes, wars, triumphant peace treaties, and tales of great daimyo dynasties.
He walked past them without looking.
This History had been a lie too many times for reverence.
Gengar pointed to the final door of the hall. It was unmarked. No guards. No locks. No seals.
This was the real door to the true master room.
Keiji pressed his palm to the paper screen.
Warmth inside.
One sleeping presence.
Deep. Relaxed. Comfortable.
The sleep of a man who believed his position unshakable.
Keiji slid the door open.
Not a single sound followed.
---
Inside the Advisor's Chamber
The room was softly lit by a single candle trained to burn slow and low through the night.
Kanzō Tokudaiji slept upon a futon laid across a tatami mat floor. His long black hair spread behind him like ink upon paper.
His expression was calm. Peaceful. Completely unaware of the storm rising.
Keiji stood at the foot of the futon.
Gengar floated behind him, eyes bright and silent.
There was no tension.
No need for force.
No need for threat.
Keiji had come not to kill.
He had come to speak.
The first whisper in a long campaign.
The path to shifting the future did not begin with war.
It began with influence.
It began with a single moment like this.
Kanzō Tokudaiji breathed softly, one hand resting near his chest.
Keiji moved one step closer.
The advisor stirred.
Eyes half-opening.
Not yet awake. Not yet aware.
Keiji reached out.
The mansion was silent.
The city was silent.
The night was holding its breath.
Keiji stood beside the advisor's sleeping form.
The whisper was seconds away.
History was seconds away.
Everything would begin here.
---
End of the Chapter
---