Chapter 5 – Human Behavior Is Always Unpredictable
"Left hand—press down on my arm and push it open. Then bend your right elbow and strike the side of my body with the joint."
Renjiro's voice was calm, instructive. Behind her, his body pressed close, one arm locked tightly around her throat. Warm breaths brushed across the back of Hanako's hair, carrying the faint scent of a man. The closeness made her scalp tingle and her whole body squirm with discomfort.
"Hurry. Don't just stand there in a daze."
"O-okay…" Hanako's reply came as soft as a mosquito's buzz.
Renjiro's arm tightened. Pressure closed around her windpipe. Her breaths came short, then harder, until she felt the terrifying grip of suffocation.
Instinctively, her small hands clawed at his arm, desperate to pry it away. But the more she struggled, the more it felt like an iron vise crushing her throat.
Her legs kicked wildly, body thrashing, vision blurring at the edges. Consciousness began slipping away.
Then, through the haze, Renjiro's calm voice echoed in her mind—use your elbow, strike back.
Hanako bent her right arm, swung back with every ounce of strength, and struck. Her elbow thudded against hard muscle. In that instant, the choking grip loosened.
She collapsed onto the floor, gasping, propped up on trembling arms. Wide eyes filled with tears of terror as she coughed again and again, her flushed face streaked red from lack of air. Crystal droplets fell from the corners of her eyes, soaking into the wood beneath her.
"Strength—fail. Reaction—fail."
Renjiro didn't comfort her. He knew only by brushing against death could one break limits and become strong. The strong had no need for pity.
Just like his own past. Every day had been a lesson in killing, escaping, laying traps, discerning lies. Every misstep could have meant the end of his future.
To choose the path of strength meant shouldering suffering and pressure far beyond one's years—only then could one surpass others and rise above.
"Cough… cough… Big brother… were you really trying to kill me just now?" Hanako asked, her voice trembling as she steadied her breath. The fear lingered—had she not struck back, would she truly have died?
"No," Renjiro replied flatly. "I would have released you at the right moment."
Hearing that answer, Hanako's lips curved into a small smile of relief. She gazed at him brightly, as if nothing had happened.
But Renjiro knew the truth. Had she only tried to pry his hands away instead of striking, she would already be a corpse on the floor. Her survival had hinged on a single choice. Whether she lived or died mattered little to his mission.
"Training continues later," he said.
"Okay, Big brother… but don't squeeze so hard next time. It really hurt."
Hanako rubbed at her neck, red marks still etched across the skin—a reminder of how close she'd come.
By noon, Madam Sakuragi returned. Smiling, she prepared lunch, heart warmed as she watched her daughter cling happily to Renjiro. The house, once filled with grief, felt alive again.
After the meal, when mother and daughter lay down for a nap, Renjiro silently opened the unused room.
Inside lay a neatly arranged set of belongings: a shinobi uniform, a Rain-nin forehead protector, and kunai placed carefully atop the folded clothes. The orderliness revealed the great care of the one who had preserved them.
Renjiro picked up one of the kunai. A mechanical chime rang in his ears.
[Equipment Acquired: Kunai (+3 Strength)]
[Current Strength: 10]
As he suspected, weapons augmented his system values.
Checking the time, Renjiro quietly set everything back in place, closed the door, and slipped out. His destination: the gambling den.
Assassinating Ameyashiki Toshi head-on would be difficult. But Renjiro knew the truth—no matter their skill, everyone in this shinobi world was, at their core, still made of mortal flesh.
Aside from a handful of rare exceptions with monstrous physical strength, most mid-level shinobi like Toshi were still fundamentally human. Their offense might be powerful, but in terms of defense, they were no different from ordinary people.
If Renjiro struck while Toshi was lost in his gambling, he might just have the chance to slip in from behind and slit his throat with a kunai.
"Oi, never seen you before. Where'd you come from?"
Just as Renjiro was about to enter the gambling den, two bearded men stepped in front of him, blocking the way.
—What now?—
His mind raced, searching for a response. If his answer didn't satisfy them, he wouldn't get inside, and his assassination mission would end before it began.
"Hello," Renjiro said with a polite bow. "I'm Toshi's cousin. He told me this place was fair and that fortunes could be made here. I thought I'd give it a try."
The two men stroked their beards. At the mention of Toshi, their suspicion faded—he had indeed brought someone before, a fool who had lost everything and fattened the house's pockets. Newcomers like this were the easiest prey.
Exchanging a look, the guards smirked. Meanwhile, Renjiro's calm, silent gaze lingered on them—eyes so steady it was as though they could see through everything.
"Well then, come right in. Enjoy yourself."
Their expressions flipped instantly as they pulled the doors wide, ushering him inside with grins.
"Place your bets, no more changes once it's down!"
"I'm going big!"
The gambling hall was alive with noise. Some shouted in joy, clutching their winnings with excitement, while others slumped to the floor in despair, faces etched with grief as they realized the money they'd sweated blood for was gone in mere moments. And through it all, the house master sat smiling, always smiling.
Renjiro stood quietly near a window, gaze turned outward. The gamblers, too focused on their vices, paid no mind to the stranger who did not bet.
Then—there he was. Toshi appeared at the entrance, conversing idly with the two doormen.
Renjiro's fingers tightened around the kunai hidden in his sleeve. This was it. There would only be one chance. One strike—lethal and clean.
But as Toshi lifted a piece of candy in his hand, a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. He sighed, lowered his foot, and turned away.
The guards exchanged puzzled looks as Toshi waved them off, muttering, and left.
Walking home, confusion clouded his thoughts. Since when did I have a cousin? Did the guards mistake someone else for family?
He had no idea how narrowly he had escaped Renjiro's blade.
From the shadows, Renjiro's eyes remained calm as his form dissolved into a ripple of water. Inside, the den echoed with cheers and cries alike, the sound of joy and ruin intermingling.
Back in the safety of his room, Renjiro stirred from his nap, receiving the memory his clone had sent back.
A man addicted to gambling… yet he abandoned it all for a child's piece of candy?
It was utterly unexpected. And it made him all the more wary of the system—because this world was far too real.
And real human behavior was always… impossible to predict.