Sinking anticipation coursed through my blood with each crawling second. As I locked eyes with the man slowly lurching in my direction, I could feel that his words were true. Apart from the dubious odds of seven against one, Yasuo himself was no ordinary thug. He was known in Iwa’s underworld as the Heartcleaver and there were rumors that he had fed upon the entrails of over a hundred men. He was a ruthless fighter—I had seen that much personally. Taking him without his underlings would have been a challenge in and of itself.

Still, even though some part of me knew that this was a losing battle, I couldn’t just bend over and let them have their way with me. Where was the fun in th—

’’Who is dead? Him?’’ A voice rang from behind the mob, its bold resonance causing my eyes to perk up with sudden alarm (and the faintest hope).

The men spun halfway in reaction, a few refusing to let their gaze linger too long from my person. Smart... The voice sounded familiar, and as I caught a glimpse of the towering man and his simian companion, a sigh of relief involuntary escaped me. Goro Kinzaru, a higher-ranking shinobi of my platoon; we had never met in-person, but I had seen him before and knew of the wild tales often spun about a man who stood seven feet tall, with the strength of an ape and the ill-will of a ladybug. While it was too early to laugh, I was cackling on the inside, eyeing Yasuo, now emboldened by a newfound vigor.



“Welp. Fun’s over, boys!” Yasuo bellowed sarcastically, a venomous smile etched across his face. “Teh.. You wanna die, as well? Be my guest!”

“Is that a real gorilla?”

“That’s one tall mo'fucker.”

“You sure about this, boss?”

One frenzy-eyed look from their leader was all it took for the men to quiet themselves. In the same moment, Yasuo pulled a long, jagged cleaver from his belt. If you looked closely, a sickly sludge could be seen coagulated along its serrated edge, sure to cause an ungodly infection if it were to puncture one’s skin. The others took their leader’s que and brandished their own weapons, each as vicious as the last, ranging from axes to sledgehammers to dual-wielded knives of the same sickly hue as the cleaver.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to mind your own business? That boy stole thirty-thousand ryō from me, both of the swords you see him carrying, and even now has the audacity to stand and fight.”

A globule of spit shot from his mouth and onto the dry earth, visibly sick at the thought, a thick grimace covering his visage.

“It’s not about the money anymore. I have to set an example, now. And you interfering means that you want to burn right alongside him.”


“That’s it. All six of you, cut him down until he’s the same height as that beast of his. And kill it, too. The boy... is mine.” With that, Yasuo turned back towards his initial target. His henchmen each began to charge at Goro in unison, waving their weapons wildly, psyching themselves up with maniacal cries—without another quibble, each setting out to prove their loyalty and make an attempt on the giant’s life. Yasuo himself, cleaver now outheld, made his way towards the corner where Kikuyō stood, whose own weapon faced the man in turn, prepared to defend his life at whatever the cost.

As the battle cries of Yasuo’s men echoed through the valley, my unease began giving way to a primal hunger. The metallic aroma of blood, its crimson vibrance, its warmth falling from fresh wounds, all swept through my senses as I tracked the accelerating gait of my aggressor.

An ancient fire kindled at my core, the heritage of my Kaguya ancestry, and I knew well that once ablaze there were only two ways that it could be quelled: through the touch of a woman, which I preferred—or, through the spilling of blood. Watching the wicked blade that approached, its sinister hue and the gnarled shadow it cast behind it, I knew well that only the latter option was possible. With that recognition, every facet of my being down to my marrow embraced the tooth-and-claw struggle that was to ensue.


I held my blade directly in front of me as Yasuo drew near, its point centered at the chest of the enraged man. I felt intuitively, eyeing his weapon, that the reach of my katana would be my saving grace if played correctly. And so as he finally entered my direct vicinity, before he could get close enough to reach me with his cleaver, the honed tip of my sword would be at the entrance of his heart. “Come closer, if you dare,” I invited. My grip was steady and alert should he attempt to swipe my katana away. Another step forward and it would pierce him as surely as the butcher slices the hog.

Of course, this was all sleight-of-hand—a trick. While I was no skilled swordsman, the deceiver's art was my living. As he responded to the encroachment of my blade, my right hand, concealed by my sleeve, would be holding the hilt of my second, sheathed katana, my sinews torqued and prepared to unleash a strike at the slightest opening.


Lost in the self-delusion required for such false courage, the six men refused to relent in their charge. The fastest of them would be the first to taste reality. Running at full speed, the dual-wielding attacker could only watch as Kiki lifted the hard cauldron and hurled it through the air. Before he could slow enough to jump from its trajectory, the makeshift missile would catch him square in his stomach, the impact stealing his wind and slamming him into the ground, where his head would collide with earth, knocking him unconscious.


None of the men had ever seen a feat of such strength before. The shock of the sight, along with the tainted fog induced by the rotted liquid, forced the remaining men into a momentary frenzy. The earth-rattling pounding that signalled the gorilla’s rapid approach was enough to sober them, however, each scattering from the body of their ally in opposite directions.

In his desperation, the axe-wielding thug hadn’t anticipated an attack from above and thus succumbed to the brutal strike, his weapon falling from his grasp before his vision of the world itself. The others weren’t so clueless. Goro’s target had located him before the giant could fully enter tackling distance, and while avoiding him wasn’t entirely possible, he would attempt to defend himself by madly swinging his hammer downward just before being lifted from the ground by the force of the tackle’s impact, rendered susceptible.

Sparing no time, the two closest to Goro threw themselves into the fray in a delirious fury—“Ahhhh!!!” The first, wielding a thick metal pole, would jump at the beastly man even as he was holding onto the hammer-wielder, swinging his metal bar directly at the back of Goro’s head. The other, wielding a throwing axe, would also launch it at Goro’s back before running to pick up the two daggers that lay next to their unconscious crony.

The man closest to Kiki, witnessing the ferocity of her smashing strike, turned and fled towards the light of the streetway.

Despite connecting with his last-ditch effort, the hammer-wielding man lacked the power to inflict any lasting harm on the bulldozer incarnate. And he was altogether powerless as an enraged Goro lifted him from the earth before driving him back into it with a meteoric might.

‘Crkkkk!’ His tailbone snapping at the impact, the goon's eyes would involuntarily roll into the back of his head, the pain throwing him into shock only to render him unconscious seconds later.

The airborne axe would carve a chunk of flesh from the giant’s arm in the following moment, and as the first sliver of their target’s blood reflected itself in the axe-thrower’s eyes, the faintest trace of hope could be seen shimmering alongside it. Until Goro turned around, revealing a fury so fierce that the supposed thug couldn’t help but shrivel up inside, his courage sinking through his stomach as the beastly man’s anger radiated in his direction, palpable and gut-wrenchingly scary. The only impulse was to flee, but he couldn't.

He remained there, stuck in place and eyes wide with dread, as beside him his brother-in-arms was ravaged by Goro's gorilla familiar. He dared not look, though the grotesque sounds of splintering bones, harrowing cries, and Kiki’s own overexcited rumbling forced his body to retch in sickness. More excruciating, however, was the uncertain silence that followed.

Altogether fear-stricken, when given the benevolent offer to leave unscathed, he almost couldn’t believe his ears. His head tilted and gaze squinted at the assuredly savage man who he must have misheard. Yet, when no sign of further aggression emerged, he ceased to question his sanity and simply fought with everything he had to force his legs into motion, falling at first before finally assembling himself enough to hastily stumble away from the duo.

The fate of his boss had altogether faded from his consideration.


While my expression displayed a playfulness, if one peered closely enough into my eyes, a killer’s intent could be spotted as clear as a cloudless sky.

My left arm outstretched, weapon steady and unshaking, my concealed hand nonetheless tremored with anticipation. One moment was all I needed—one mistake, one slip-up, one… distraction? It couldn’t have gone any smoother. Having dispatched those lackeys in a swift minute, the colossus called to Yasuo with a taunt that forced a smirk onto my face. The ringleader's ego couldn’t resist stopping to retort—I could feel it. Just one false move. And it came.

Swiping at my katana, I allowed his cleaver to drive my blade away, letting him assume he had thwarted my more obvious attack. He pivoted then, rotating his head momentarily to shout at Goro. There was no hesitation. In less than a second my underhanded katana was whipped from its sheath and through the man’s neck, lopping his head off before he had a chance to turn it back around. Scarlet flame coursed through my hazel irises, wild-eyed and intense as I beheld the blood well from his beheaded frame, his body crumbling to the ground, his head tumbling along the earth and into the alley’s stone wall.

My gaze remained glued to his lifeless form as it lay there, my body pulsating with adrenaline. In a manner of moments, however, I began to feel the force of bloodlust slowly dissipate from my being, a lightness returning that compelled a sigh to leave my body and for my breathing to relax.

I took a step closer to the dead man, the remaining world barely there, blood dripping from my outstretched katana like drops of unholy rain.


A chortle escaped my belly. You never knew when inspiration would strike.

The world slowly returned as I lifted my gaze from Yasuo and the blood-soaked earth, resting my attention on Goro and his animal companion. I knew the stories of his mild-mannered ways, and I wondered how he would react to my slaying of this man. There was no guilt in me—my life was on the line. One of us had to die, and he had it coming. Could Goro truly be offended after an attempt had been made on his own life, as well? Well, I was curious to hear. But I was in no rush to approach an angry giant, if he was angry. So my gaze floated to my bloody katana, flinging the line of gore from its edge.

I assumed that he was approaching, so I remained where I was, reaching behind me for the flagon of sake I had clasped to my sash.

Nothing matched the molten rush enflamed by violence. You could never feel more alive than when life itself was at risk. But what drink lacked in such primal exhilaration, it redeemed in an easy and thoughtless euphoria. What one liked, after the shedding of blood. Like water to fire.

The sake met my lips effortlessly. I savored its liquid warmth as it rinsed down my parched throat. In moments I pulled the flagon away, gently gasping, and then brought the container over my put-upon katana, allowing the alcohol to trickle over the blade’s edge in a slow trace. Only after sheathing both of my weapons did I look up to see the singularly odd sight of the gargantuan man tending to the crew of goons that he had just finished razing. Huh?

Before I could fully process the wacky image, his voice travelled across the alley with a question. Rhetorical and even more unbelievable. The stories were true, then. I couldn’t help but notice the difference between the gentle being here now and the demonic beast that had raged here moments earlier. It took me a few moments to consider his question, as preoccupied as I was with Goro himself, who I couldn’t quite pinpoint. In the end, I spoke without a hint of regret, and almost with a tinge of disgust at the pretense to loftiness he seemed to display. What could he know about my life?

“I know that he would have done the same thing to me, given the chance. And that’s all that I need to know.” My gaze drifted down to Yasuo’s body, still draining into the earth. My shadow lay overlapping his abdomen, and I couldn’t help but notice something sinister there.

Startled, I forced my gaze up and away, looking back toward my superior.

“When you endeavor to kill someone, you risk being killed yourself, don’t you? It’s the way of the world.” I spoke matter-of-factly, though my words didn’t seem to sway him any, as he continued caring for his assailants. “Whatever. Even if you can’t see that, I still have to thank you. If you hadn’t come when you did, it would have been my blood pooled there. And my body there.” The truth of those last words made my spine crawl.

It was a sobering thought, and while I couldn’t bring myself to feel remorse for that psycho-killer who had proclaimed me dead only minutes ago, some sliver of Goro’s sentiment had etched itself into me. I never went out looking to kill. But when threatened with lethal force, I had learned to respond in kind. Growing up in the backstreets of the Stone, without that impulse you became a mark, a target to be taken advantage of by any number of Yasuo’s.

And perhaps I need not remain that way, given my life now as a shinobi.

Was I to become like him, however? Hide my impulses from the world and become a faithful servant to the whims of ordinary people? To stop gambling, deny myself life’s pleasures and thrills, become a 'good boy'? In other words, lose everything that I am for the sake of what—the approval of people who never cared for me, anyways? No. That would never be me.

But I did hear his words. Another swig of sake would ease my thoughts, the taste suddenly bringing to mind my plans before my day had been entirely interrupted. Plans that I saw no reason not to reignite. So when Goro rose to leave, I followed in stride, giving the headless body one final glance before setting my sights ahead. The big man’s resolve to take responsibility did tickle me, but I doubted that there would be any responsibility to take, given that the man and his men most likely had bounties on their heads.

But, on the off-chance that they didn’t, I simply nodded in gratitude, eager to be done with the situation. I would likely spend the remainder of the day pondering his final words. Unfortunate for whom? And for what? I could have been dead, but instead, through sheer chance, I had been spared death—it seemed quite the fortunate situation. For me, at least. Facetiousness aside, I did recognize what he meant, and it would be considered.

I did offer a final few words of my own, which felt necessary. Something that had been gnawing at me since seeing him tend to those men.

“But hey, you know what’s so ironic? The moment these people see what I saw today, they’ll cast you aside without any of the affection that you show them. In a heartless way. Me? I wouldn’t. I thought it was quite the sight. Haha! But what do I know?” I shrugged, turning in the opposite direction of Goro and disappearing into the flowing streetway.

Although we didn't see eye to eye, I couldn't help but feel a warmth toward the goliath and his gorilla companion—who, honestly, I owed my life. His choice to cover for my own fatal blunder was a gesture that couldn't be forgotten.

Until we meet again.