The Salvation Ninja (3)
“Mm.”
My eyes opened on their own, and I rose with the Ninja Rising Technique.
It felt like I’d slept a solid eight hours.
Sleeping in the full ninja suit left me a little sticky and gross, but my condition was pretty good overall.
I loosened up with a quick set of national calisthenics.
Would the radar work now?
Wooooong—
Yep, it did.
Now that I knew it had a limited number of uses, I’d save it for the important moments only.
“…Zzz.”
The high priestess was still dead asleep, curled up like a caterpillar. The pose made her look exactly like a hikikomori daughter trying to crawl back into her mother’s womb.
“Become a morning person, will you?”
Clap clap-clap clap~! Clap clap!
“Hieek!?”
A simple round of applause jolted her awake.
Today’s schedule was tight—eat, then straight to the shrine.
“Sleep well?”
“Shanata. No—yes.”
The way she nodded so fast told me she’d slept soundly in my warm embrace.
Not just anyone got to enjoy the warmth of a Sweet Ninja.
“I’m hungry. Food.”
I politely asserted my rights.
She’d claimed she wanted nothing in return, but a meal was the bare minimum she ought to provide on her own.
That was basic etiquette when dealing with a Runaway Ninja who volunteered his life for the people in the spirit of self-sacrifice.
“…Wait.”
“You’re a hostage, remember? You stick with me.”
I caught her by the shoulder as she tried to slip outside alone.
“Worry, no need. Me, not run.”
“Who said I was worried about you running?”
I was the guy who’d chased down Kakashi—ten times faster than this high priestess—and beaten him like a yellow dog (potential dog stew) with my bare fists.
Of course, as a politically correct ninja, I did not eat dog stew.
Black goat soup tasted the same, cost about the same, and was way more hygienic.
“If I don’t keep you as a hostage, your subordinates will jump me.”
I wasn’t holding the high priestess hostage for fun.
The wild tribes were different from every other people I’d protected so far—in more ways than one.
The biggest problem was language. Communication was rough, so a certain amount of pressure was necessary.
As long as I didn’t hit anyone, it should be fine, right?
“Worry not. Yesterday I said. You, come help us. Must follow.”
“Just saying that doesn’t mean people instantly obey.”
“High priestess order, absolute. Break it, heaven punish.”
In that case, no problem.
I let go of her shoulder.
Besides, I was her only real option left.
“Just so you know, we’re partners now. Let’s give each other a little faith and trust.”
Technically I was the one doing all the one-sided carrying, but I didn’t bother saying that out loud.
People get lazy the moment they feel like they’re being carried for free. Group projects have proven this scientific fact.
The high priestess stopped just as she was about to step out of the tent.
“You, strong. I feel it. But Tetra Po Takana, many. Our warriors, try hard, many die. My mother also…. So, hard for you.”
So she’d inherited the high priestess position in a hurry after her mother died.
She seemed like a decent noblesse-oblige type, so I decided to give her a little pep talk.
“I’m a massacre specialist. You know what massacre means?”
“What is?”
“It means one person taking on a whole crowd and killing them all. I’ve soloed fifty yokai before. So don’t worry too much.”
After I said it, “civilian slaughter” felt more accurate than “massacre.”
But “farming noobs” was way too horrific a phrase, so I’d stick with massacre.
Sometimes a sweet lie beats an uncomfortable truth.
“Massacre…. I remember. My name, Saserif. Call me Sans, okay.”
“That abbreviation is really ‘bone’-chilling. I’ll just stick with Saserif.”
Out of nowhere the high priestess introduced herself.
The name was way too hard; I didn’t particularly want to remember it. But she seemed to be offering goodwill, so I gave a light nod.
“Your name?”
“Runaway Ninja.”
Telling her “Robin” could get messy later.
I’d worked hard to build this double identity; I wasn’t going to blow it unless the situation was special.
“Runaway Ninja. I trust.”
“Nin-nin.”
With that, the high priestess left.
I now had at least ten minutes of free time.
Shing.
I drew the ninja blade from its scabbard for the first time in a while.
The red snake Kakashi had carved into the hilt on a whim was gone now—completely erased.
Kakashi.
My master, and the fallen ninja who’d stolen my family heirloom blade.
—Only a week and you’re already in that stance. Number… 567? I’ll remember you. You’ve got talent.
It had been a long time since she crossed my mind.
—Starting to get used to it? That’s right. That’s Floating Shadow. Focus on my voice. Blend naturally with the surroundings…. Good…. Good…! Now come slowly toward me. That’s it. Grab my hand and you’re done……. Amazing!
The only person in my life I could truly call a master.
—You’re really something. Every time I look, you’ve gotten better. Before long you’ll be someone incredible. You know I’ve got my eye on you, right?
Kakashi had liked me more than any of the other candidates.
—Don’t let Instructor 132’s beatings get to you. That guy’s actually nothing special. Want to know why he never uses a weapon? Because he’s just a kid… huh? You’re not interested? How fun. I knew 567 would click with me.
We even gossiped behind people’s backs all the time.
—How’s the teamwork with your partner, 568? That kid’s got outstanding talent too. A little lacking, you say? Heh heh heh. Someday you’ll find a partner even better than her. Honestly…. I still haven’t found a partner worthy of my level either. We’re pretty similar, don’t you think? 567?
She’d talked my ear off every time we were alone.
—I told you tomorrow’s the final practical, right? Don’t worry too much. For someone like 567 it’s just a little test you’ll pass easily.
I’ll personally recommend 567 to the director. When the director asks, say you want to train under Instructor 385. That’ll seal it. Then it’ll just be the two of us.
If we’d met somewhere other than the Snake’s Tail—if she hadn’t been a villain—would we have had a good master-disciple relationship?
She was already dead, so it was all pointless what-ifs.
I folded the memories away and focused on the ninja blade again.
Gleam, gleam.
The blade that had taken the lives of fifty yokai and two hundred yakuza was still razor-sharp.
A weapon forged from special metal that defied common sense.
Soul Eater.
Suddenly Yugeomgyeong’s personal equipment flashed through my mind.
If I faced her with this ninja blade… could I win?
“….”
Uncertain.
Power, speed, technique, equipment, mana capacity—the five pillars of combat strength.
I’d observed her while she hunted the Boorusa, and there wasn’t a single category where I felt superior.
On top of that, Yugeomgyeong even had some long-range attack called “Raging Whatever.”
There were officially six more warriors of her caliber inside the kingdom alone.
Among them would be the samurai I had to take down.
I needed to get stronger.
If only to stop the yokai-Nazi coalition that had been rebuilt in this other world.
“Food, ready!”
Hearing Saserif’s voice, I stepped outside.
First things first—eat.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
The moment I saw the spread laid out, murderous intent flared.
No matter how I looked at it, these bastards were not serving this in their right minds.
“Delicious. Precious thing. Very rare get.”
With that completely confident face, Saserif pushed the dish toward me.
It wasn’t mackerel-head curry, raw water-deer liver, or pebble stew…
…but it was every bit as horrific.
“This is caterpillar cuisine!”
That’s right.
These absolute sons of bitches had sliced an ancient giant caterpillar into neat little rounds, tossed it with random weeds they’d picked up somewhere, and served it to me as a meal!
A royal wriggler salad special, swimming in blue ichor.
“This is a crime against humanity!”
I had zero desire to spend a miserable morning choking this down for breakfast.
I flipped the entire table on the spot.
“Aaah! Waste!”
“Jomati!”
“Desaga!”
Saserif and the wild tribes stomped their feet with devastated faces.
Just like that, every last shred of desire to help these bastards evaporated.
“Even the neighborhood yellow dog wouldn’t eat this! Bring me something better!”
Hands on my hips, I unleashed a lion’s roar.
I’d already had my fill of disgusting caterpillar steak as a full-course meal back in the Snake’s Tail.
Enough that my shit had turned the same shade of blue as Orphe’s hair.
I was so shocked a weird analogy just slipped out.
Sorry, Orphe.
“H-here, eat this.”
Saserif brought another dish.
I stepped closer for a better look—it was a barbecue of some animal that looked exactly like a bat.
“Ebola virus!”
“Kyaaak!”
I immediately side-kicked the thing into oblivion.
“You demon bastards! Why are you trying to spread a plague?!”
“This, no problem. Delicious. Kingdom people also enjoy. Not understand.”
Did otherworld bats not carry germs?
Even so, I had zero interest in eating an animal that looked that goddamn nasty.
“I can’t fight for you like this! I can’t fight!”
I was in full ninja gear, so I couldn’t tear at my hair—I just yanked the hell out of my headband instead.
When a man seriously contemplates his future goals, ideals, and convictions, then crashes head-first into gutter-level reality, he goes insane. That’s just how it works.
“Runaway Ninja, calm! What we do?”
“Seonji hangover soup!”
Right. That existed.
“Boil some. Right now.”
I swore to Buddha and Hattori Hanzo that I would not take a single step until I had a normal breakfast.