There was a gap of air at the back, and the leader turned - only to see Haru standing, back turned towards him.
"Who are you?" the leader asked, his voice low and cautious.
Haru didn't respond, only stood still, silent and detached.
The leader flinched, his steps quickened.
The bandits shifted their attention from Matsamaru to Haru.
Haru, sensing the change, thought to himself:
"Now this checks out... I'm the target. Whatever I've done-or possess-makes me the target. Who are they? Why me?"
His face remained expressionless.
Haru clenched and released his fists slowly - his subtle sign that he had complete control of the situation.
His gaze locked on the incoming bandits.
In a blink, he vanished.
He appeared within their midst, palm stretched.
He slammed one bandit's face into the ground with instantaneous speed.
The others froze, still staring at the afterimage.
Before the bandits could comprehend, Haru snapped another one's shoulder and used him as leverage, launching into the air.
He twisted midair and delivered a crushing kick to another, sending him flying.
One after another, he dismantled them - too fast, too precise.
None could react.
On the roof above stood two men.
One wore a long black robe, a sword across his back. His long black hair flowed with the wind. A mischievous grin curved his lips - Ejin.
Beside him, a man in a fitted black kimono sat, wearing a devious mask. His black-and-blue hair danced lightly in the breeze. An ancient harp stood beside him - Qisa.
They watched from above, quietly.
Ejin smirked, voice smooth:
"Ahh... so that's him. The face of the Syogen."
Qisa said nothing at first. Then, slowly,
"But why?"
Ejin turned, mildly confused.
Qisa added, "Why him? I get the reason... kind of. But I still don't see him as the right choice."
Ejin chuckled, "Because he's just... normal?"
Qisa rolled his eyes and looked back down.
Ejin's smirk faded into something more serious.
"His Honeki was permanently sealed by Niri. You know how insane that is? For Niri to be unable to control the energy he holds... and had to seal it completely? Nah, he's no ordinary kid. Niri holds the staff for strength, as a village."
Haru's power didn't come from Honeki - that had been sealed by the village of Niri.
His overwhelming speed and intelligence were purely his clan's traits.
No energy used. No buildup.
Just instant, natural ability - silent, lethal, untouchable.
Qisa breathed heavily, his gaze fixed on Haru as he dismantled the bandits with cold precision.
Ejin smirked, arms crossed. "He'll notice us soon—our presence, our plans."
His eyes narrowed.
"He's sharper than both of us. We'll have to treat him like an S-rank target."
He paused, then added, "The boss said bring him in alive. No killing. We owe him that much… He's close to the leader. The next big thing."
Qisa, eyes closed, spoke calmly, "He's from Niri. There's no way we can abduct him like an ordinary ninja. He's part of the Death Squad. They're trained weapons built for this kind of thing. Unranked, yes—but far stronger than most ranked."
Ejin turned slowly, beginning to step off the rooftop.
"So let's see how it plays out," he said.
"Whether he falls right into it… or proves he's even smarter than we thought."
He jumped off the rooftop—and vanished into the wind.
Back on the ground, the fight had ended.
The bandits lay scattered and unconscious, groaning faintly. Only the leader remained somewhat aware, trembling on the floor. His wide eyes locked onto Haru with pure fear. His lips moved, but only faint, broken mutters came out.
Matsamaru stood frozen—his eyes wide in disbelief.
What he had just witnessed… was beyond anything he imagined.
Clean. Calculated. Ruthless.
It wasn't just a fight—it was a performance by someone who had done this far too many times.
Haru slowly straightened up, rising from a crouch.
He turned to the leader.
His hair fell over his eyes, hiding whatever expression he wore beneath.
The air around him felt heavier now… colder.
Haru finally spoke—his voice barely above a whisper, but sharp enough to cut through the silence.
"Oi... who are you?"
It wasn't loud. It wasn't angry.
It was calm. Too calm. And that calm made it terrifying.
The leader flinched, eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. He stammered, his mouth opening and closing without real words—just broken sounds, the fear choking his voice.
Whether he truly heard Haru or was just reacting to the weight of his presence—it didn't matter.
He was crumbling.
Matsamaru stood behind, breathing heavily.
And in that moment of stillness, clarity dawned.
Haru was the target.
Everything—the explosion, the ambush, the sudden shift in enemy focus—wasn't random.
They came for him.
Whether Haru was desperately hunting them down to silence any word about his presence…
Or simply trying to uncover who the true target was…
No one could tell.
His face remained unreadable, his movements calculated—like a shadow moving with purpose.
But behind that calm, something was boiling.
Haru spoke without really asking—his voice low, almost distant.
"Matsamaru…"
Matsamaru turned to him, startled by the tone.
Haru continued, eyes still fixed ahead,
"…I'm the target. They're here because of me."
Matsamaru clenched his jaw, forcing calm onto his face, though his mind raced. He didn't fully understand who Haru was—whether he was a cunning threat to the village or just a lost ninja caught in something bigger than himself.
Either way, the danger was real, and the target was clear.
Matsamaru watched closely, eyes narrowing.
He thought to himself, He's still Haru... no matter what side he's on, I'll figure it out.
Trying to keep his voice steady, he asked, "Re… Really? Do you know why you might be the reason?"
Haru said nothing.
Instead, he calmly reached to the side of his robe and untied a small, tightly wrapped cloth—inside it, a kunai. Attached to the handle was a thin strip of worn fabric, embroidered with a single faded symbol:
Kurugisama.
Kurugisama —
A specialized weapon consisting of a kunai knife attached to a long, durable rope, with the rope bound securely to the user's waist. Unlike standard kunai, the Kurugisama is designed for extended range, unpredictable movement, and close-quarters control*. It allows for both long-distance throwing and rapid retrieval, giving the user control over the blade mid-air.
In Haru's case, the Kurugisama reflects:
- His strategic intelligence, using range and movement to manipulate the battlefield.
- His restraint, opting for a weapon that binds him rather than one purely for killing.
- A subtle symbol of control, as the rope represents mastery over chaos — the blade never leaves his reach.
After untying the rope of the Kurugisama, Haru crouched slightly, his fingers tracing the cord with deliberate care. The rope slid across his palm like a snake — silent, smooth, and ominous.
He wrapped it tightly around his hand, layer by layer, the tension in the rope matching the silence in the air. Matsamaru watched, frozen, unsure if Haru was preparing to interrogate or execute.
Without warning, Haru's eyes sharpened.
The rope flew through the air in a blur — a hiss slicing through the quiet — and in a blink, the kunai struck.
Straight through the leader's throat.
His body jerked, then slumped to the ground, lifeless.
The rope retracted with a faint metallic sound, and the blade returned to Haru's side like it never left.
No expression. No hesitation.
Only silence.
Matsamaru screamed silently, his eyes wide in disbelief. He stumbled backward, covering his mouth with a trembling hand as his sword slipped from his grip and clattered to the ground.
Haru walked forward, calm and unshaken. The Kurugisama dragged behind him, its blade scraping lightly against the floor, leaving a faint trail.
He stopped before the lifeless body of the bandit leader, his unreadable eyes fixed on the open, fear-stricken stare frozen in death.
Without a word, Haru crouched down. His other hand — the one free of the rope — reached out and gripped the dead body by the collar, dragging it closer.
He leaned in, his voice low, a whisper only the dead could hear.
"Oi… I'm coming for you."
Haru dropped the body and slowly stood up, the weight of silence pressing down as he took a deep, steady breath.
He turned toward Matsamaru, his voice low—"Matsamaru, we—"
But he paused.
Matsamaru stood frozen, his sword on the ground, eyes wide in fear, his entire body slightly trembling. Haru's words died in his throat.
His expression shifted—first surprise, then that same distant detachment returning like a mask sliding back on.
He said nothing.
He simply watched Matsamaru, silently accepting what had just changed between them.