Part 4 — The Ten Wills
The air shifted.
He stepped forward.
The floor creaked softly beneath his bare feet as he closed the book and tucked it under his arm. His breathing slowed—not because the fear was gone, but because he had accepted it.
"Shadow clone," he whispered.
The air rippled.
One presence split into many.
A second Haruto appeared—silent and serious, eyes sharp, posture rigid, already scanning the room as if calculating outcomes.
Another formed beside him, leaning casually, a crooked grin on his face—the roaster, smirking even now, as if danger were something to mock.
A third popped in almost immediately, mouth slightly open, already about to say something—talkative, restless, unable to keep thoughts inside.
The fourth stumbled half a step back—fearful, eyes wide, breathing shallow—yet curiosity flickered in that fear, watching everything carefully.
The fifth stood frozen—innocent and scared, hands clenched tightly, fear written plainly on his face without disguise.
The sixth appeared without expression—emotionless, blank eyes, body perfectly still, like a tool waiting for orders.
The seventh stood calmly—calm and composed, shoulders relaxed, gaze steady, as if already prepared for what was coming.
The eighth burst into existence with restless energy—energetic and chaotic, shifting weight, fingers twitching, excitement buzzing through every movement.
The ninth smiled softly—joyful, strangely out of place in the tension, eyes warm, as if believing things could still turn out alright.
And at the center—
Haruto himself.
Not louder.
Not stronger.
Just standing there.
Ten versions of the same soul.
He looked at them all—not with surprise, not with pride—but understanding.
"This isn't about winning," Haruto said quietly.
"It's about buying time."
The silent one nodded once.
The calm one closed his eyes briefly.
The emotionless one tightened his grip on a kunai.
The fearful ones swallowed hard but didn't step back.
The energetic one grinned wider.
The joyful one clenched his fists with resolve.
Haruto inhaled.
"If we can hold him here… even for a moment… Aka and Renjiro might make it back."
His jaw tightened.
"And if we can't…"
He didn't finish the thought.
Instead, his eyes lifted—burning red, sharp with determination.
"…Then we won't run."
The house stood quiet.
But inside it—
Ten wills were ready.
The serious one stepped forward, calm and unmoving.
"What's the plan?"
Haruto took a breath. His voice stayed low.
"We don't face him directly. We stop him before he settles in."
He lifted his hand toward the ceiling above the entrance.
"Roaster. You'll stay above the door. The moment he steps inside, you jump and stab him then push him forward while jumping backwards."
Roaster's usual grin softened. He nodded.
Haruto turned to the doorway.
"Talkative. You're positioned in front. When he stumbles, you step in, stab, and pull back immediately."
Talkative swallowed, then nodded fast. "Got it."
His finger shifted.
"Calm. Joy. You'll be ahead with the rope. When he loses balance, you pull together."
Both answered at once with quiet confidence.
"Emotionless. Energetic. You take the lower side. Hold him down by his legs."
No reaction. Just readiness.
Haruto looked at the serious clone again.
"You and me—upper side by hands. We don't let him move."
The serious one nodded once.
Haruto's gaze softened when it reached the last two.
"You'll be above," he said. "On the ceiling, holding the big shuriken. When the moment it seems we cant hold him down… you act together, by jumping on him along the shuriken or just drop it if you dont trust yourself."
The fearful one hesitated.
The innocent one tightened their grip.
Haruto didn't raise his voice.
"You won't be alone."
Silence followed.
Then the calm one spoke. "We'll need tools."
Haruto's jaw tightened.
He remembered Renjiro's warning.
Never enter my room.
"…I know."
He turned and walked down the hall.
The door opened quietly.
Inside, he moved without hesitation—taking only what was necessary. Nothing more.
When they returned, the house felt different.
Focused.
Ten versions.
One decision.
The house went completely still.
The plan was set.
A soft, unsteady voice broke the stillness.
"W-what if…"
The fearful one shifted slightly, eyes fixed on the door.
"What if the one we're sensing is Aka… or Brother Renjiro?"
The question settled over the room like a held breath.
No one moved.
Haruto didn't answer immediately. He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself—then opened them, gaze calm and clear.
"That's why we wait," he said quietly.
Several of them turned toward him.
"Not outside," Haruto continued. "Not at the door."
"Inside."
He raised his hand slightly, palm open.
"We let him take a few steps. We listen to his breathing. His weight. His presence."
His voice didn't shake.
"If it's Aka or Brother Renjiro, we'll know."
The innocent one let out a slow breath.
The fearful one swallowed.
"And if it isn't?" the fearful one asked.
Haruto's jaw tightened—just a little.
"…Then we begin."
No one argued.
One by one, they moved.
Roaster slipped up into the shadows above the entrance, body pressed flat, weapon ready.
The fearful and innocent ones climbed carefully to the ceiling farther inside, gripping the large shuriken together.
Talkative positioned himself just ahead of the doorway, forcing his restless body to stay still.
Emotionless and energetic lowered themselves near the floor, muscles coiled tight.
Calm and joy took their place with the rope, hands firm, timing aligned.
Haruto and the serious one stood ready at the upper side, eyes locked on the door.