Killing was a distant concept to Maki. In her short life, she had never once considered it seriously.
Yet ever since this world's birth, the question had returned to her again and again.
In the cruel shinobi world, wasn't it inevitable?
Could she bear it?
Would she tremble?
Would she vomit?
Would she be afraid?
She wanted to know. She wanted to experience it for herself.
Commanding insects to kill from afar felt like a game—detached, unreal.
"Tell me your name," the Kumogakure jōnin demanded. He wanted to know who would kill him—or whose hands he would stain with death.
"For the dead, names don't matter," Maki replied. "Why don't you tell me yours?"
"Yalui." He lifted his cloak, revealing a body packed with violent muscle.
"Those tattoos… impressive," Maki noted. "I've heard that in Kumogakure, they're proof of strength."
"That's right." White breath hissed between Yalui's teeth as his muscles swelled like detonating charges.
"The Nidaime Raikage created the famed Lightning Release Chakra Mode… and many other jutsu and kenjutsu. You must be using one of them."
"You'll see soon enough."
"I hope it's interesting." Maki stepped forward slowly.
"You won't be disappointed."
Yalui crouched against the mountainside, sword embedded in the rock, hands weaving seals. Lightning burst across his frame—not blue, but golden—coiling into a dragon of light that wrapped around him. Barely three meters long and finger-thick, its proportions were strange against his massive form.
Yet to Maki's senses, two-thirds of his chakra now pulsed within that golden construct. A costly technique.
"Golden lightning…?" Maki murmured.
The dragon's eyes gleamed, alive, hungry.
Very well. Let's test it.
From her sleeves, a crimson storm of beetles erupted, filling the air with heat. Steam rolled upward, the swarm charging Yalui in a living tide.
He exhaled sharply. Aburame? No… these insects felt different. More vicious.
Thunder surged through his body. Muscles snapping like springs, he dashed along the cliffside, twisting and sprinting at lightning speed to evade the burning swarm.
Not bad. But evasion wouldn't save him forever.
With a flick of her hand, Maki summoned the Dragonflies soldiers from every angle, diving down like fiery comets.
The golden dragon lashed out, lightning exploding wildly around Yalui, shielding him as each Xia Chi soldier burst into flames mid-air.
"Is this your true technique?"
The explosions lit the cliffside, but the dragon held firm—though its chakra drained rapidly. Soon, it would falter.
To Maki, the Dragonflies were expendable. But watching Yalui fight, bleeding himself dry to reach her, she chose not to end it at a distance.
She wanted to feel what it was like to kill with her own hands.
With a sword.
Yalui burst through the storm, his body torn and scorched, yet still charging, determination bleeding from every step. Either victory or death—nothing in between.
ANBU battles were always so raw.
When he drew close, Maki halted her swarm. She didn't want to be caught in her own explosions.
The golden dragon struck, lightning spearing through the air. In less than half a second, it was at her eyes.
She tilted her head slightly. The bolt grazed her cheek. At the same instant, Yalui's sword pierced her abdomen.
Hit!
Triumph flared in his eyes as he drove forward—only to freeze mid-step.
The figure before him blurred. Dissolved.
A cold voice whispered behind him:
"How weak."
Panic surged. He tried to move, to turn, but his body no longer obeyed.
"What… did you do?" he rasped.
The girl before him shimmered into nothing. A moment later, a purple blade slid through his chest.
Agony returned him to reality. The horror of the flameborne parasites had begun.
Blood dripped onto the snow.
"It's just the neurons," Maki explained calmly.
Already, her insects invaded his spine, chewing through his nerves with surgical precision. If left to their instincts, they would devour blindly—but under her control, they dismantled him piece by piece.
His breath hitched, shallow, desperate. His muscles refused him. Even speaking became torture.
So easily… killed… without even touching her clothes.
The last of his strength drained away as disbelief froze in his eyes.
"Monster…"
Maki stepped back, drew her sword, and slashed downward. Blood scattered across the snow in crimson lines.
Alui's burly frame toppled into the drifts, snowflakes bursting upward with the impact. A violet stain spread rapidly across his body, consuming flesh and bone alike. In moments, nothing would remain but nourishment for the swarm.
It was over.
Maki slid her blade back into its sheath and turned, walking away through the storm.
"Boring."
No revulsion. No fear. No nausea. No trembling.
Only a single emotion lingered in her heart.
This isn't the path I want.
Killing is dull. Dancing is better.
A red cloud of armored insects swirled above her, then descended to follow. As they moved, they draped across her silhouette like a flowing, blood-red cloak.
Far ahead, four shinobi sprinted together in silence.
The stillness shattered. A thin red line bloomed in the air—then one man's head slipped cleanly from his body.
The remaining three froze, scanning the darkness with sharp eyes. There was no trace of an enemy.
"Who's there?! Show yourself!"
Their shout echoed against the cliffs, swallowed by the howling wind.
The next instant, another shinobi was shredded where he stood—his body sliced into neat pieces, scattering like a butchered radish. Blood burst across the snow.
The survivors finally caught a glimpse of the weapon.
"Wire… it's steel wire!"
Glistening threads, wet with blood, shone faintly beneath the moonlight. Tracing their path revealed the attacker's position.
"There!"
One of them snapped into seals, chest swelling to release his jutsu—
But before he could finish, his head parted smoothly from his shoulders.
Only one was left.
He stared at the corpses, his body trembling, fingers numb with cold terror.
Where… where is she?
The killer wasn't outside. She was everywhere.
The last jōnin steadied his breath, every nerve braced against the unseen blade hidden in the snow-laden dark.
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