Chương 73: On Killing

Shin had wanted to avoid this fight. That was starting to look impossible.

"Is that sword just for decoration?" Sōen smiled, voice edged with contempt.

"Like that flashy footwork of yours? You've kept it sheathed this whole time—what are you even carrying it for?" She leaned close, lips almost at his ear.

"That cut earlier—the one that saved me—that was fast, wasn't it?" Her voice dropped. There was something strange in it, like she was entertained.

"You can't fool me. You've killed before. No matter how you dress it up, there's blood in your eyes." Shin's grip on the hilt tightened. Sōen glanced at his hand. She stepped back two paces and drew the ōdachi into its sheath. One of the bandits charged from the side, weapon swinging toward Shin—then the world blurred, and the man felt a brutal pain detonate through his chest. He looked down. A katana had pierced him. He raised his eyes and found a boy's blank face looking back at him. Fast— Sōen's brow twitched.

Is killing fate? Shin pulled the blade free. He looked at the blood soaking the steel. In his past life, he had killed for Fujino. And now? They were lives, same as anyone else. Why did they have to die under his blade? He looked at the man lying on the ground with no more life in him. But no matter what he did to cover it, he could never cover his past. Never cover the fact that he was an executioner.

Was he standing here performing grief, letting some sentiment he couldn't let go of convince him he was better than this? Did he actually believe he could wash clean hands already soaked in blood? Shin sheathed the katana without wiping it. The blood went with it into the scabbard.

"Killing is a bad habit." Low, half to Sōen, half to no one.

"Sword Flash." He raised the katana with both hands, holding it horizontal across his body—one hand gripping the scabbard, the other resting light on the hilt. A sword doesn't exist to kill. But I will cut through everything that stands in my way. In the space of a breath, as Sōen's expression crossed into disbelief, Shin's blade drew a massive arc of white light through the air. The afterimage hung—a wide sweeping fan of steel. The blade-wind that followed swept through everything like a scythe through dry grass.

Ferocious. Merciless. White light was all Sōen could see.

"Yaksha Flash: Empty Sky." One instant. No survivors. ….. Yugao Uzuki surveyed the bodies covering the ground and felt the start of a headache. Severed limbs everywhere. Blood running between them. She couldn't look at it.

"What happened to you three?" The reprimand was already in her voice.

"He did it." Sōen pointed at Shin. Perfectly innocent. Yugao looked at Sōen's dress—soaked in blood. Sai stood off to the side watching Shin, something close to shock still moving through his eyes. The scene from moments ago hadn't left him.

"Bandits who harm people can be eliminated," Yugao said.

"But right now—how are you any different from them?" She looked at all three of them.

"Shin Takami."

"Yes."

"Do you understand that you just graduated?" Yugao's shock was genuine. The boy who had always seemed gentle, obedient, easy to read—this boy had done this? She doubted anyone would believe it.

"At this rate, what is going to become of you?" The bandits may have deserved to die. But what Shin had done was something else. Shin thought about it. He was already regretting it. His conduct on this mission—Yugao would report everything to the Hokage. And then what would the Hokage think of him? A boy fresh out of the Academy who was actually a devil that killed without blinking.

"I'm sorry, Yugao-sensei." He lowered his head.

"I was focused on breaking through. I didn't stop to think. I was wrong." Sōen glanced at him.

"That's enough. We'll talk when we're back." Yugao let out a slow breath. …… They returned to the village and told the people there would be no more bandits harassing them. The three of them, blood-soaked, were welcomed like heroes. That evening came with a proper dinner. After bathing and changing into clean clothes, everyone turned in early. Shin and Sai shared a room. Sai fell asleep quickly. Shin lay staring at the dark ceiling and didn't sleep. His self-discipline wasn't enough.

Too many things he failed to account for, too many gaps in how he acted. He'd graduated now. He was in the village, trying to climb higher. He had to be more careful. These thoughts kept turning over in his head. …… Down the hall, Yugao and Sōen had the other room. Neither was asleep. Neither was talking. They lay in their beds with their own thoughts. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Yugao-sensei," Sōen said.

"Mm?" A distracted sound.

"Can someone produce blade-force from a sword swing alone—no chakra?" The scene from that night was still replaying behind her eyes. Yugao paused. She gave Sōen a faintly curious look.

"At a high enough level of kenjutsu, yes—but it's extremely rare," she said.

"Everything we call kenjutsu is built around ninjutsu. Chakra is always part of it. Judged purely as swordsmanship? I'm barely at the threshold myself. Still a beginner, really." Both of them had trained under Buichi Yamamoto. Yugao understood roughly where Sōen stood—her talent was clear, and a year of training since graduation had brought her close to chunin level.

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Sōen smiled and shook her head.

"What you're describing—Buichi-sensei can't do that either," Yugao said, thinking aloud.

"I don't believe anyone in our village can. The Land of Iron might have someone." The Land of Iron... Sōen thought. Land of samurai and blades. She'd get there eventually.

"Get some sleep," Yugao said.

"We're leaving early tomorrow." As it turned out, both women slept past nine. Shin and Sai were up at first light. Morning drills, then more training, then breakfast from the villagers. Sai sat in an open patch of ground with a drawing board and a brush. What he was drawing made Shin uneasy. Bodies everywhere. Blood pooling between them. Three figures standing in the middle of it—the scene from last night, rendered with precision that matched how it had actually looked. Sai was skilled.

That was exactly the problem. When Yugao and Sōen woke and packed up, the four of them set out for home. Back in the village, Yugao split off immediately to file the mission report, telling them tomorrow's meeting time before she left. Sai said a quick goodbye and was gone. Shin turned to leave.

"Shin." Sōen was looking at him. This boy two years younger than her. Shin looked back at her without expression. After last night he had a clearer picture of how different she was from Yuko. What he'd seen of her—the ease of it, the look in her eyes while she killed—it brought back memories of a version of himself he'd spent years trying to leave behind.

"Do you want to..." She tilted her head slightly.

"Come sit at my place for a bit?" A smile. He didn't answer.

"Come on." She laughed at his silence, closed the distance, and grabbed his arm. Before he could react she was already walking, pulling him along. Shin drew his arm back without making a thing of it.

"I can walk on my own." Sōen glanced at him. She didn't say anything. They walked in silence—her a half-step ahead, him behind. Her apartment. She produced a key and unlocked the door.

"Come in." She turned and smiled. He'd been here once before. The layout was familiar. He sat on the couch and set his pack and sword beside him. Sōen came back a few minutes later with tea.

"Is there something you wanted?" He looked at her and asked.

"You weren't like this with me before." She was watching him with amusement. He knew she wasn't Yuko. And last night had put a distance in him that hadn't been there before. The ease with which she'd moved through the killing—it reminded him too much of himself. Not that he had any standing to say so. His own past was the reason he didn't want to be that person anymore. He was trying to change. But what he'd done last night didn't sit right with him either. He felt sometimes like he couldn't hold himself in check.

Maybe after so many years of killing in his past life, it had carved itself into something deeper than habit. Was that the real him? A man who'd learned to like it? Something about blood, and he couldn't hold his nature back. …

"... Shin. Your blade was born for this. That's why I need you."

"Lord Fujino, I don't enjoy killing."

"But I enjoy watching you do it." …

"What are you thinking about?" Sōen had been watching him drift.

"Nothing." He picked up his cup and took a slow sip.

"By the way." Casual tone. She was sitting across from him, holding her cup in both hands.

"Who's Yuko?" Shin blinked. He hadn't expected that.

"You keep mistaking me for her, don't you?" Sōen's long fingers turned slowly around the cup. She watched his expression from the corner of her eye. The silence stretched.

"Someone from a long time ago."" A long time ago?" Her expression went somewhere he couldn't quite read. She thought: you're eleven years old, what do you mean 'a long time ago?' She didn't say it. His reaction told her enough. Yuko had mattered.

"You look like her," Shin said, quiet.

"But you're completely different." Sōen didn't know what to do with that.

"I'm not her." Her voice edged up.

"I know."

"And I don't want to be." She kept going.

"I don't want to be anyone but what I am. I think that's fine." Shin let out a breath. She wasn't Yuko. He had no right to hold her to Yuko's standard.

"Shin." She was looking straight at him.

"You're interesting."

"How so?"

"In every way. But your kenjutsu surprised me most." She changed direction—she clearly wanted off the subject of Yuko.

"My old sensei used a blade too. A jonin. He was also Yugao-sensei's team instructor when she was a genin." That explained something Shin had wondered about.

"He told me my talent was exceptional. That surpassing him was only a matter of time." No pride in her voice. She was strong. Shin could see it plainly.

"But you seem further along than me." Sōen held him with a steady look. Last night, Yugao had said what Sōen had already suspected—that producing blade-force without chakra was something even Buichi Yamamoto couldn't do. And Shin had done it. There had to be something different about his method.

"Do you not want to tell me?" Shin nodded.

"That's fine." She nodded back. Not pushing.

"Didn't you say you'd teach me kenjutsu?"

"All right." Sōen felt a flicker of irritation. She was making an effort—talking to him like this—and she got two words. She held it down. Nothing showed on her face. They talked a while longer. He was absent for most of it, which tried her patience more than once. After he left, Shin walked toward the Inuzuka compound.

"I'm home." He pushed open the door and called out. A few seconds later Hana came running from somewhere inside, face breaking open when she saw him.

"Shin." She crossed to him quickly.

"Hana-nee."

"You're really okay. I was so worried." She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him over, then let herself breathe.

"I'm so relieved." His first away mission. She'd been anxious about it the entire time.

"Sorry for making you worry. I'm fine." He stepped forward and hugged her briefly.

"Mm." She held on a moment, arms slow to let go. They went through the yard and inside.

"Where are Tsume-san and Kiba?" The place was quiet.

"Mom took Kiba to his secret technique training. They'll be back in the afternoon." Hana took his pack and reached for his sword.

"What do you want for lunch? I'll cook."

"Whatever you make." She smiled and went into the kitchen. Shin went to the bedroom and found the bottle of camellia blade oil in the drawer. He came back with his black-sheathed katana. He'd sheathed it with blood on it during the fight. He'd done a rough clean afterward, but not a proper one. He sat on the couch and started working through the blade carefully—oiling, wiping, going over it section by section. Hana made a full spread for lunch. Over the meal she asked about the mission.

He described it simply: they'd captured the bandit leader, scattered the rest, mission complete. Hana took it at face value.

"Oh—I'm thinking about joining the medical corps," she said. Shin looked up.

"What made you think about that?"

"Nothing specific. I've been feeling tired from missions lately." She smiled, looking down at her bowl.

"Rather than taking lives, I want to save them, I think." Shin went still. He stared at her.

"What's wrong?" She tilted her head.

"Nothing—no, nothing." He looked back down. Rather than taking lives. Who starts out wanting to kill? Who decides one day that's what they want to be? Maybe I really am an aberration. He ate without speaking. Hana noticed. Something had changed in him. She went back over what she'd said, wondering what had landed wrong. The meal ended under a low, strange silence. She tried different approaches to bring him back, and he managed something like a smile for most of them—but they sat on the surface.

After lunch he said he was tired and went to his room. This started another round of Hana coming by the door, asking in different ways if he was all right, until he'd talked her down. It cost him more than the mission had. She stood in the hallway after he closed the door, still unsettled. Whatever had happened out there, it had gotten to him. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what had happened. There wasn't much she could do but worry.

She picked up his pack to do his laundry—he'd come home in a different set of clothes from the ones he'd left in. She took it to the washroom, opened the pack, and stopped. Inside were the clothes he'd been wearing when he left. Stain after stain of dark red, soaked through the fabric. A heavy iron smell came up from them that made something go cold in her chest. …

"The mission? We infiltrated the bandit camp at night, caught the leader, then sent the rest scattering. Mission complete."

"A lot of them didn't want to be bandits. They'd been dragged in by force. None of them wanted to fight back. When the leader went down, they gave up right away." … Shin had been lying to her.