Shoto Hayate's expression never softened.
That forced smile he wore at the banquet faded the moment the Hekai turned his back. Now, his face was set — jaw clenched, brows tightened. Rage brewed quietly beneath his stoic exterior. Whether it was guilt or indignation, no one could say. But his silence was already a confession.
Outside the estate's gate, the heavy wooden doors creaked open once more. The guards bowed low as the visitors passed, their arms tight to their sides in respect.
The Hekai paused for a moment on the steps, his gaze drifting across the wandering villagers beyond the walls. His eyes, cold and still, studied them — not as people, but as pieces on a board.
Shimura walked beside him as they turned left, beginning the descent back to the Hekai's residence. The wind carried the faint scent of plum blossoms.
Breaking the silence, Shimura asked quietly, "Hekai-sama… what if your prediction is right?"
The Hekai didn't respond immediately. Only the sound of footsteps echoed against the stone path.
Then, he spoke — low, sharp.
"If I act as the Hekai of the village must… the Hayate clan will be wiped out."
Shimura's eyes shot open. "Wiped out? Not exiled…?"
"No." This time, the answer came instantly. Cold. Final.
"Shoto has no idea who he made a deal with. If the palace finds his name linked to this operation… it won't be mercy that follows." His voice grew darker with each word.
"Because this isn't just treason." He turned his head slightly. "It's contact with an organization that doesn't just threaten our village. Not even just the country. But the entire ninja world."
Shimura stopped walking, breath caught in his throat.
The Hekai continued, slow and deliberate. "An organization of organizations. Shadows that stretch across every nation. Deeper than anything we've faced."
"…The Party."
Shimura's lips parted, but no words came. His eyes trembled. His hands, for a moment, seemed to lose all feeling.
He remembered. The eye patch. The stitches. The night he never spoke of.
The Hekai noticed, but didn't acknowledge it. His tone dropped further.
"You know what they're capable of. To them, Shoto was just another pawn. A clan leader means nothing to them."
A gust of wind passed. Leaves scattered at their feet.
"Even Hizaro was one of them."
Shimura's knees nearly buckled. *Hizaro?* That name was legend. Feared even in silence.
But the Hekai wasn't finished.
"Their threat is equal to the Syogen. My instincts tell me they sponsored the Iminaqo ritual… the one that took millions of lives to create that cursed altar. The same altar that made us seal that boy's Honeki."
He stopped, staring ahead.
"If His true power had been unleashed — by anyone, even himself — the result would not be a casualty to us…" His voice dropped to a whisper.
"It would've shattered the universe."
Shimura, pale and stiff, finally found his voice.
"Th-The Syogen… The Party… it… it can't be…"
The Hekai turned, his straw hat once again casting a shadow over his face.
"We have to pull Shoto out. Before it's too late. Or we'll lose another clan."
With that, he walked on — leaving Shimura standing there, lost in a memory darker than the present. A memory tied to the very scars he wore beneath his robe.
And the wind carried his silence away.
At the Hekai residence, a quiet wind swept across the tatami floors. The Hekai sat cross-legged on a floor cushion, a short table before him. A brush dipped in ink moved delicately across parchment — sharp strokes of calligraphy blooming on the page.
Behind the paper sliding door, a shadow paused.
A voice followed.
"Shino Hayate."
Without looking up, the Hekai responded, "You may enter."
The door slid open with a soft hiss. Shino, dressed in a simple dark robe, stepped in wearing white socks. He bowed deeply, then remained still.
"Sit," the Hekai offered.
Shino hesitated — perhaps out of formality or discomfort. But after a brief moment and another gesture, he obliged, settling onto the cushion before him.
The Hekai smiled gently.
"How's the Death Squad?"
Shino scoffed, his tone sharp despite the setting.
"Terrible. Those half-wit fools think strength is everything. I don't even get sent on the important missions..." He paused, catching himself. He was in the presence of him, after all.
But the Hekai only chuckled.
"That's why I called you here. I have a mission for you—personally."
Shino blinked, shocked, his eyes beginning to glisten from the unexpected honor.
The Hekai slid a folded parchment across the table.
"Bandits in a nearby village. Repeated raids. Seems simple—probably just a D or C-level threat. I've assigned the Death Squad. You'll be the leader."
With reverence, Shino took the parchment and unfolded it — reading the list of names.
His face dropped instantly.
"Eh? What… what is this?"
He read it again aloud, eyes twitching.
"Haru? Akiro? Henji? Chimaru?—I mean, Hiro and Matsamaru are fine, but this?"
The Hekai raised a brow, confused for a moment — perhaps he had handed the wrong list.
But then he smiled, knowingly.
"That's the best team I can give you. Each of them is vital to real missions. They've seen things even veterans haven't. Especially Iminaqo Haru."
He leaned forward.
"What rank is Haru now on the power index?"
Shino muttered, almost ashamed,
"Fifth..."
The Hekai grinned.
"Fifth. And without a Honeki. You see, Haru's strength isn't brute force — it's strategy. His brilliance is unmatched. Chimaru knows village histories like no one else. Akiro's telekinesis is terrifying. Henji and Matsamaru are the best combo you'll get. Hiro..." he chuckled, "is the balance."
He rested his brush, hands folded.
"This mission will test you, Shino. Accept your team. Learn what they know. Find what you lack."
Shino kept his gaze low, processing the weight of the assignment. Then, quietly, he nodded.
The Hekai smiled.
"Good. Then I'm counting on you, kid."
Shino bowed once more, then stood. With practiced grace, he walked out backward*
, never turning his back to the Hekai — a sign of deep respect.
And just like that, the mission that would change everything began.