Hito-mane Extermination: Memento Mori lV

"We are just ordinary people driven to revenge in the name of justice. But if revenge is called justice, then that justice breeds yet more revenge and becomes a chain of hatred."

Pain, from Naruto                               

                                     ...

The next morning came whether Ryuzuki wanted it to or not.

The sun rose over the desert just like it always had. He had just arrived in Bordertown. The closest town to the edge of Harpyra. Shops opened. People talked. Children laughed somewhere in the distance. And even though life continued, he couldn't. Ryuzuki stood at the edge of town with a small bag over his shoulder and stared out at the desert. He hadn't slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. The blood. The tears. The way her voice shook when she apologized for something that wasn't her fault.

"I-I'm sorry..."

The words wouldn't leave him alone. Behind him sat the town he'd spent twenty-two years trying to survive in. Ahead of him stretched the endless terrain leading toward the Capital of Avethryn. Somewhere beyond that sea of sand waited the answer to a question he never wanted.

Who had done this? 

His hand drifted into his pocket. The note was still there. The blood had dried into the paper, turning it stiff.

FINAL MISSION.

He stared at those words for a long moment before closing his eyes. Then he started walking. The first few days weren't difficult because of the heat. They were difficult because of the silence. For the first time in years, nobody gave him orders. No notes. No instructions. No knocks at the door. Just endless sand and his own thoughts.

He hated it.

Every step brought another memory. His mother smiling while cooking dinner. Sato learning how to walk. His wife laughing at some stupid joke he couldn't even remember anymore. Every memory hurt. The desert didn't care. The sun rose, the sun set, and Ryuzuki kept walking. By the fifth day his feet were covered in blisters. By the seventh his shoulders felt like they were carrying stones.

By the tenth he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a proper meal. But he kept moving. What else was he supposed to do? Go home? Home didn't exist anymore. Not after what happened. Not after his wife…

He couldn't bring the thought forward. Several times he thought about turning around anyway. Several times he almost did. Then he would remember the knife. Remember the blood. Remember the note. And he would keep walking.

The second week was worse.

The anger started fading. At first it had kept him moving, it had kept him alive. Now it was disappearing. Leaving behind something emptier. Some nights he found himself crying without realizing it. Other nights he laughed. The sound always scared him. It never sounded like his own voice. The desert stretched endlessly beneath him. All of it felt like rocky cliffs and dry hills. Winds that never seemed to stop. Every day looked exactly the same. Every day felt exactly the same. Eventually he stopped counting them. Then, around the end of the 3rd afternoon, he saw it. Phoenixis. Royal capital of Avethryn.

Even from miles away it looked impossible. Massive walls rose from the horizon like mountains. Countless buildings stretched into the sky beyond them. Flags danced in the wind. Smoke drifted upward from thousands of homes. The capital looked less like a city and more like its own world. While he had been to the capital of Harpyra, this was the capital of the entire nation. The two of them cannot be compared by any right. Ryuzuki stopped walking. For several minutes he simply stared. Then he laughed. The sound came out broken.

After everything he'd gone through.

After fifteen years of being manipulated.

After his wife…

He couldn't bear the thought. After all of it, this was where it led. Just another job. The thought almost made him sick. 

He arrived at the outskirts of Phoenixis shortly before sunset. A large grassy field stretched beside the capital walls. He could see the flashing light of tall buildings, the endless starry night that seemed to stretch into distant lands, and the weight of the situation he was starting to find himself in. But he knew he needed to continue. He continued to walk into the grassy field, close enough to the capital walls to make for a medium walk, far enough to not be found by any means of a normal scout. At first he thought it was empty. Then he saw them. A dozen figures stood scattered across the field beneath black umbrellas.

Nobody spoke and nobody moved. They simply watched him approach. Ryuzuki immediately felt his stomach tighten. Something wasn't right. His hand drifted toward the knife at his waist. One of the figures stepped forward. "Ryuzuki Mochimaru?" His voice sounded tired. Not aggressive, just exhausted. Ryuzuki stopped several feet away.

"Who are you?"

The man ignored the question and lowered his umbrella. The others followed. One by one. Faces appeared. Normal faces. Scarred faces. Young faces. Old faces. Every single one looked exhausted. Every single one looked terrified. One man stepped closer. "We've been waiting for you." Ryuzuki frowned. "Why?" The man looked toward the others. Several exchanged uncomfortable glances. Finally someone answered. "Because you're supposed to be our leader." Ryuzuki blinked. "...What?" Nobody laughed. Nobody corrected him. The realization slowly settled in. They were serious. "What are you talking about?" One of the older men sighed.

"They didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" The group exchanged another look. The silence immediately annoyed him. "Tell me what?" A younger woman finally spoke. "They told us somebody named Ryuzuki would arrive." Ryuzuki stared. "Who told you?" Nobody answered. His expression darkened. "Who?"

The silence stretched. Then an older man shook his head. "We don't know." Ryuzuki immediately scoffed. "That's bullshit." The old man looked away. "We don't know." The answer genuinely sounded honest. That bothered Ryuzuki more than if it had been a lie. "What do you mean you don't know?" Another man stepped forward. "Exactly what he said. Nobody knows."  Another man stepped up to the campfire as he handed Ryuzuki a bottle of sake to calm his nerves.

"Nobody knows their names, nobody knows their faces, and nobody has the energy to look into it anymore."

"We know they're extremely strong, more than what you can even imagine." Ryuzuki froze. Could the masked man be somebody from the Revolutionary Army? There it was again. The same invisible hands that felt like they were clutching his throat. His fists clenched.

"That's it?"

One woman nodded.

"That's it."

"You never met them?"

"No."

"Never saw them?"

"No."

"Never got a name?"

"No."

“All we know is that it's somebody high up on the food chain from the Revolutionary Army.”

The answers came quickly. Almost rehearsed. Because they had probably all asked the same questions already. A bitter laugh escaped one of the men. "They don't tell people like us anything." The man reached into his coat and pulled out a photograph. A little girl. Maybe six years old. She smiled brightly at the photo. The man's expression cracked. "They took her." Silence.

Then, another person spoke.

"My wife."

Another.

"My brother."

Another.

"My son." One by one the stories started coming out. Ryuzuki listened quietly. Each one sounded the same.

While they had all come from different places and had different experiences with the stitched man, deep down, they all carried the same fear, the same helplessness, the same feeling of not knowing if your loved ones are safe at night. One woman sat down heavily in the grass. "They said if I refused, they'd kill my husband." A man beside her nodded. "They threatened my children." Another man laughed bitterly. "They already killed mine."

Nobody knew what to say to that. The wind rolled through the field. For several moments nobody spoke. Then the first man pointed toward a backpack sitting near a campfire. "That's yours." Ryuzuki looked down. Slowly, he walked over and opened it. His stomach immediately dropped. Bounties. Hundreds of them. Stacked together. He stared. His fingers slowly reached down and grabbed one. Then another. Then another. The more he looked, the worse it became.

These weren't criminals.

These weren't random events happening for fun. 

These weren't announcements for the town's people.

These weren't murderers.

These weren't escaped prisoners. For years, he'd hung bounty posters all across Kokohama. He knew exactly what they looked like.

But these were different.

Government officials.

Military officers.

Nobles.

Merchants.

Political figures.

People with power.

People with influence. People connected to the Land of the Birds. Ryuzuki's breathing slowed. Something about this felt wrong. Then he saw it.

Tatsuchi Kuroainaru.

His eyes narrowed. The bounty sat directly beneath her image.

2,600,000 Yorin.

The number made him blink twice. He looked again. Still there.

2,600,000 Yorin.

A fortune. His gaze slowly drifted back toward her face. Black hair. Purple eyes. Young. Maybe around his age, if not, a bit younger. Below the bounty poster sat another name.

Yuta Kuroainaru.

Ryuzuki immediately recognized it. Everybody recognized it.

Supreme Commander of the Vanguard.

Undisputably the most powerful person alive.

This was saying that Yuta it's somebody to look out for while going after the bounty of his own daughter. Why would anyone place a bounty on his daughter? The question immediately made his stomach twist. Whatever was happening, it was far bigger than him. Far bigger than Kokohama. Far bigger than anything he'd ever been involved in before. One of the men noticed his expression. "Yeah." Ryuzuki looked up. The man had forced a weak smile. "That was my reaction too."

"Do any of you know what's going on?" The man laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it wasn't. "We stopped asking." Another nodded. "Questions don't help." A third stared at the ground. "They just get people killed." Nobody argued. Because everybody knew it was true. Ryuzuki stared at the bounty poster again.

Tatsuchi Kuroainaru.

Something about the name lingered in his mind, like he should remember it. He didn't know why. Eventually he shoved it back into the bottom of the bag. "What now?" The group exchanged looks. Then somebody shrugged. "We do the job." The answer made Ryuzuki sick. But it also made sense. Because what choice did any of them have? None, absolutely none. He looked around at the exhausted faces surrounding him. Broken people trapped exactly the same way he was.

He understood why they wanted him to lead. Not because he was special, not because he was strong. Because somebody had to. And nobody else wanted the responsibility. Ryuzuki slowly exhaled. Then he looked toward the field. "Set up camp." Nobody argued.

Within an hour, around 20 tents covered the grass. Campfires burned. People cooked food. People rested. People talked quietly among themselves.

And for the first time since leaving Kokohama, Ryuzuki felt completely empty. Tired. Very, very tired. As night settled over the camp, he sat alone outside his tent and stared at the distant lights of Phoenixis. The city looked beautiful. They had no idea what was coming. And deep down...

Neither did he.

                            …

Morning came slow over Phoenixis. The sun didn’t rise so much as it bled into the sky, dragging light across the massive walls of the capital. From the camp outside, the city looked untouched, like nothing in the world beyond its borders ever mattered. Ryuzuki didn’t sleep. He sat in front of his tent, knees drawn up, staring at the ground as people around him started moving again. Fires were already burning low. Someone was cooking something that smelled like dried meat and salt. Nobody spoke louder than they had to. That was the rule now.

Ryuzuki slowly stood when he felt movement behind him. One of the men from yesterday handed him a waterskin without saying a word. Ryuzuki took it, nodded once, and drank. The water tasted like metal. “You’ll get used to it,” the man muttered. Ryuzuki didn’t respond. He didn’t think he could get used to anything anymore. The group started moving shortly after sunrise. The bounties had to go out. That was all anyone said. No speeches. No plan. Just movement.

Ryuzuki walked with them through the open field toward the outskirts of Phoenixis. The closer they got to the city, the heavier the air felt. Not physically. Something else. Like the world itself was watching. They split up at the edge of the capital walls. Small groups. Two or three people each. Ryuzuki stayed with four others. Their job was simple. Attach the bounties. Move on. Don’t be seen. That was what they were told.

Ryuzuki stared at the stack in his hands for a long time before he moved. First wall. A quiet street near the outer district. No guards. No civilians. Just stone, wind, and silence. He placed the first poster carefully. A noble’s face looked back at him. He moved to the next wall. Then the next. The group worked fast. There was something wrong with how easy it was. Every time Ryuzuki finished placing a bounty, he looked around expecting someone to notice. No one did. The city stayed quiet. By midday, rumors started. Ryuzuki heard them as they regrouped for a brief rest near an alley. “Did you see the eastern district near the docks?”

“People are just gone.”

“Not dead. Just… gone.” Ryuzuki froze slightly at that last word. 

Gone. 

One of the men shook his head while chewing on dried food. “It’s happening in the upper districts too." Another nodded. “Same pattern." Ryuzuki finally spoke. “Missing how?” The man shrugged. “We don’t know. One moment they’re there. Next moment they’re not.”

“And no bodies?”

“No bodies.”

That answer sat wrong in Ryuzuki’s chest. He looked down at his hands. Ink stains. Paper cuts. Dust. Nothing about this felt like his job anymore. That night, more posters went up. And by the third day, more and more people started noticing. Whispers spread through Phoenixis like a wildfire through dry grass.

“Nobles are disappearing.”

“Officials are gone.”

“Whole households wiped clean.”

Ryuzuki heard it from a merchant who passed too close to their group. The man didn’t even realize who they were. “They say it’s a curse,” the merchant muttered. “Or maybe a purge.” Another one said “Someone, or something, is cleaning house.”

The words made Ryuzuki stop walking for half a second. Cleaning house. That night, Ryuzuki sat outside his tent again. The camp had grown quieter. Even the men who used to talk now kept their distance. Something was changing. Something none of them understood. Ryuzuki finally broke the silence himself. “You ever wonder who’s behind it?” One of the men across the fire didn’t look up. “All the time.”

“And?” A pause. Then a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t matter.” Ryuzuki frowned. “It doesn’t?” The man finally looked at him. “Does it change anything if we know?”

Ryuzuki didn’t answer. Because he didn’t have one. Three days passed like that. Then five. The disappearances got worse. Whole sections of the capital started sealing off. Guards doubled overnight. Curfews were announced. But it didn’t stop anything. If anything, it made it faster. Ryuzuki noticed something else too. People didn’t panic. They just… vanished. People said it was like the city was being erased, piece by piece.

On the sixth day, Ryuzuki was sitting inside his tent with only one bounty poster left in his hands, the last one from the stack and the only copy of this specific target, Tatsuchi Kuroainaru. He stared at it longer than he meant to, not because he cared, but because it didn’t make sense, because everything else had already been cleared out and this one job still stayed behind like it was waiting for something. Kyōga Forrest, the name stamped in the corner of the order, sat there like a stain as Ryuzuki looked between it and the face on the paper. “What could this guy even want from her…” he muttered under his breath.

Before he could think further, a shout ripped through the camp outside, “Three people in Gate Guard uniforms approaching from the east!” Ryuzuki’s head snapped up immediately as he shoved the poster into his coat and stepped out of the tent. The camp was already shifting, people turning, grabbing weapons, the air feeling off in a different way now, like something had finally arrived instead of disappeared. Ryuzuki moved into the open and saw them.

Three figures in Gate Guard uniforms walking in from the edge of the field. At the front was Tatsuchi Kuroainaru, and Ryuzuki froze for a second without meaning to, not because he didn’t recognize her, but because she looked different standing there in daylight, in uniform, like she actually belonged to something instead of just appearing out of nowhere in the dark. Behind her were two others, Asumi Yamikumei and Zhenyu Mori, two up-and-comers within the Gate Guards. They were both moving in a way that made it clear they weren’t just escorts.

One of his men leaned in beside him. “That her?” Ryuzuki didn’t answer right away as Tatsuchi stopped at a comfortable distance from the camp, the other two fanning out slightly behind her, watching everything without saying a word. Ryuzuki’s hand tightened at his side. Tatsuchi looked directly at him. “You’re the one putting up the bounties.” It wasn’t a question. Ryuzuki stepped forward slightly. 

“And you’re a Gate Guard. So why are you here instead of doing your damn job?” Asumi’s eyes shifted across the camp while Zhenyu stayed still, watching Ryuzuki without reacting. Tatsuchi didn’t flinch. “We’re not here to fight. We’re here for information.” Ryuzuki gave a short, humorless exhale. “That’s what everyone says right before something starts.” For a second, nothing moved, then the camp broke. Not all at once, not cleanly, just sudden movement from multiple directions as unknown figures slipped through gaps between tents while soldiers reacted too late to stop them forming contact points across the field. Shouts started instantly and Ryuzuki turned sharply. “Hold formation, don’t scatter!” but it was already too late.

One of his men dropped near the outer tents, another went down closer to the fire line, dragged into the space between tents where visibility broke. The Gate Guards reacted immediately, tightening around Tatsuchi, Asumi, and Zhenyu, but even they were forced into reaction instead of control. Steel flashed somewhere behind the tents, someone shouted an order that got cut off halfway, and a body hit the ground near the supply crates without getting back up.

Ryuzuki moved forward, trying to track it, but there was no pattern to read, just breaks in movement, gaps where people were one second and gone the next. He stopped at the edge of his tent again, half turned toward the chaos, watching his camp fall apart in pieces that didn’t connect into anything he could fight properly.

He backed into the tent without fully deciding to, eyes still locked on the field. Outside, the sounds kept shifting, steel clashing somewhere near the Gate Guards, short bursts of shouting, then silence, then another collapse. Then another.

Ryuzuki lowered himself into his chair without breaking eye contact with the entrance. Through the flap he could see everything, his men disappearing from the field one after another, not all at once, not in a wave, just spaced out like someone was slowly erasing them from the map. The Gate Guards were still holding their ground around Tatsuchi, Asumi, and Zhenyu, but the space around them kept shrinking as more bodies went down.

Another man fell near the fire. Then another just beyond him. The sunlight outside started breaking apart in sections, not because of clouds, but because bodies and movement were blocking it out, crowding the space between light and the tent. Ryuzuki didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He just watched it thin out.

The light at the entrance narrowed more and more until only a thin strip remained across the dirt floor, then that strip got smaller, then smaller again. Another body dropped just outside the flap, and the last bit of sunlight slid across the ground, hesitated for a moment, then got swallowed completely as another man went down right in front of it.

Ryuzuki sat back in his chair as his men were taken out one by one just outside the tent, the camp outside no longer feeling like a battlefield but like something emptying out in real time. When there was nothing left moving near the entrance, the tent dimmed fully. The only thing left inside was darkness, and the heavy, unforgettable scent of blood settling into the fabric of the air.

Outside, the camp was silent. Not dead. Just gone. The tent dimmed further as the blood of his comrades soaked the tent. Until there was almost no light left at all. Only darkness. And the smell of blood. The final thing Ryuzuki noticed before everything faded completely… 

was how quiet the world had become.