Kurokawa watched his companion suffer such heavy injuries in just a few seconds. Hearing those shrill screams, he finally couldn't hold back and roared, "Bastard! What did you do to Jiro?"
"Asking the obvious." Mamoru sneered, his gaze always locked on Jiro at his feet. "Can't you see he's kneeling and apologizing to me?"
He slowly walked around to Jiro's side, skillfully flicking the Katana up with his toe and catching it with a backhand grip. "If your eyes aren't blind yet, I don't mind helping you gouge them out."
With that, he raised his foot and stepped on the back of Jiro's head, pressing that blood-stained face heavily into the mud. His foot kept grinding down, mud mixing with blood into a mess on Jiro's face.
Jiro struggled weakly, his hands clawing uselessly at the muddy ground, intermittent whimpers coming from his throat, but he couldn't break free from the foot imposing such humiliation.
Kurokawa was completely enraged by Mamoru's undisguised contemptuous words and highly insulting actions. His eyes instantly became bloodshot and red. He suddenly drew the katana from his waist, the blade reflecting a cold, chilling light. He exerted force with his feet to charge forward, but was firmly stopped by leader's arm.
"Kurokawa, stop!"
"Boss, but..."
Kurokawa's chest heaved violently, his teeth grinding together, his eyes staring fixedly at Mamoru as if they were about to spit fire.
"Don't be impulsive yet. That kid... something's not right." The leader didn't look away, his expression becoming more solemn than ever as he lowered his voice. "His movements... are too fast. He's not an ordinary person."
Hearing the leader's judgment, Mamoru couldn't help but glance at him sideways, a mocking arc curling at the corner of his lips.
"Heh, I thought that stiff skull of yours was stuffed with nothing but rocks." Mamoru said mockingly, his voice clearly tearing through the silence of the forest path.
"Turns out it can actually turn. However, isn't it a bit too late to realize there's a problem now?"
The leader trembled all over from this relentless humiliation. The veins on his forehead bulged like earthworms, throbbing violently.
However, his remaining reason was screaming—Jiro was still in the other party's hands. He was caught in a dilemma and had to endure for now.
He almost squeezed the words through his teeth, forcibly suppressing the churning murderous intent in his heart, and spoke deeply, "Now... return that man to us, and we'll let you leave immediately. We'll act as if this never happened. What do you think?"
"Sure." Mamoru agreed nonchalantly.
However, at the very moment his words hadn't even fully landed, his wrist suddenly exerted force. A flash of light passed in an instant, a cold arc cutting across Jiro's neck.
Pshhh—
The sound of a sharp blade cutting through flesh spread exceptionally clearly.
A head flew up with a frozen expression of shock. Warm blood, like a bursting fountain, suddenly sprayed out.
Jiro's headless body lost all support, twitched violently a few times, and then collapsed heavily to the ground. Blood gushed out, quickly soaking the mud beneath him. A thick, nauseating smell of iron instantly filled the air, making it almost impossible to breathe.
The suddenness of the scene left even the two samurais stunned, let alone the people on the carriage.
The wind in the forest seemed to freeze at that moment, only the smell of blood spreading silently through the air.
"Jiro!" Kurokawa cried out in grief, his voice shaking with disbelief.
"What have you done!" The samurai leader roared, his eyes bulging.
Inside the carriage, Hinata, who had watched everything happen, turned pale. Her slender fingers pressed tightly over her lips. "S-sensei, Mamoru-kun ki-killed someone?'
"Hinata, for a ninja, taking lives while on a mission is sometimes unavoidable." Kurenai explained softly, her gaze fixed on Mamoru.
She mused, 'This boy dares to take a life decisively on his first mission outside the village. This ruthlessness seems innate. One could only say he was born with the makings of a ninja.'
Mamoru lifted his foot from the severed head and an unfamiliar calm rose in his heart. He gained a new understanding of himself—he was cold-blooded to the bone.
The first time he killed, the ground was dyed a glaring crimson and the air reeked of blood, yet he felt no discomfort at all. At the same time, he realized how fragile ordinary people were before a ninja. With the slightest effort, he had taken a life.
"Returning him to you." Mamoru kicked Jiro's head toward the two men. "Pity it's only the head."
The head rolled through the mud, leaving a sticky blood trail before stopping beside Kurokawa.
"Jiro..."
Kurokawa, who still seemed to care for his comrade, stared at the head that would never lift again. Grief filled his eyes, his lips trembling, knees nearly buckling.
"You!" The samurai leader pointed at Mamoru, trembling with rage, his finger shaking in the air.
"Bandits pretending to have feelings? Disgusting." Mamoru's lips curled in a cold smile.
"I'll give you two choices."
He toyed with the captured katana, flicked the blade with a finger, producing a clear ring, then said slowly, "First choice: disarm and surrender. Of course, I don't recommend it, since I never planned to let you go. Hahaha..."
The laughter echoed abruptly through the silent grove, carrying a near-mad coldness that sent chills down their spines.
The samurai leader and Kurokawa gulped in unison, a chill crawling up their backs. The wind brushing their skin felt like icy needles.
Mamoru's laughter faded as he continued, "Second choice: fight me to the end. Choose. I recommend option two."
After his words, silence fell. Only the rustle of leaves answered, as though the whole forest mourned the coming massacre.
Mamoru stood motionless, the long blade reflecting a cold light, like an executioner about to behead a criminal, his eyes devoid of warmth.
The samurai leader's expression shifted as he struggled inwardly.
This brat never intended to spare them.
Resist? He had killed Jiro effortlessly, how much better could he fare?
A surge of unwillingness welled up. He didn't want to die, but this time, he feared he would fall here.
At the brink of despair, he suddenly thought of something and glanced sideways at Kurokawa, eyes flickering. Once the idea sprouted it could not be suppressed.
'Sorry, Kurokawa. To save myself, I have to sacrifice you. If I get the chance, I'll build you a proper tombstone.'
"Brat! Since you won't let this end peacefully, let me test your ability!"
The leader drew his katana with bluster, then turned and shouted to Kurokawa, "Kurokawa, attack together!"
His voice carried an imperceptible tremor.
"Yes, boss!"
Trusting him completely, Kurokawa raised his sword, stance fierce and determined.
Mamoru grinned, standing still as if the coming fight meant nothing.