Chapter 6: Complications and Departures
"What's wrong?" Shuichi repeated, his voice flat as he studied Katsu Takayama. The boy was panting, sweat beading on his forehead, clearly having run here.
"It's my sister," Katsu blurted out, his face pale with worry. "She's missing! Shuichi, can you help me look for her?"
His expression was raw, genuine anxiety. It wasn't a prank.
"…Didn't you report it to the Police Department?" Shuichi asked, leaning against the doorframe, his single arm folded.
"Of course I did! But I'm still worried." Katsu's brow furrowed, his eyes darting around nervously before dropping his voice. "Look… there were… clues. Where she disappeared. I think… I think someone took her." He cut himself off, watching Shuichi's reaction carefully. "You know a lot of people, Shuichi, with your restaurant and all. If you could ask around… maybe we could find her faster."
Shuichi's expression didn't flicker. "Oh? What kind of clues?"
The truth was, their friendship had cooled into distant acquaintance. A thick, unspoken barrier stood between the struggling civilian and the aspiring shinobi. Shuichi had no desire to get involved.
"The Uchiha searched her usual route home. They found the good-luck charm I gave her… just lying there. And next to it…" Katsu swallowed hard, pain flashing across his features. "A word, scribbled in the dirt. And… a puddle of blood." He closed his eyes, as if to block the image. His family had survived the Nine-Tails unscathed, only for this horror to strike months later. "Damn it… who would do this?!"
Shuichi's mind worked coldly and swiftly. Katsu's family lives in… ah. Near the Fukawa district. Please don't tell me…
The 'food' Dry Arrow had been consuming in the sewer… it hadn't looked like a rat upon closer inspection. The proportions were wrong. A young woman, perhaps?
It seems Dry Arrow's first proper catch was indeed a woman.
He asked a few more detached questions—the sister's usual schedule, what she was wearing, the Police Department's current search parameters—more to hasten Katsu's departure than out of any real concern.
"Alright. I understand. I have things to do now, but I'll keep an ear out when I can." His tone offered no real promise, just a polite brush-off.
"Thank you! Really, thank you!" Katsu's gratitude was desperate and genuine.
"Don't mention it." We were never that close.
He watched Katsu sprint back down the hallway, then shut the door, plunging the room back into its curated gloom. His eyes narrowed.
Takayama's sister is most likely the one in Dry Arrow's stomach. I didn't expect it to hit so close to home on its first real hunt.
My apologies, Katsu-kun.
The thought was a formality, devoid of remorse. Even if it had been Katsu himself, Shuichi would have merely shrugged. Takayama Katsu? An acquaintance from a past life. No more.
However, this incident was a sharp warning. His plan to leave Konoha needed to be moved up. He'd intended to linger a few more days, perhaps recruit another subordinate or two. But Katsu's visit highlighted a critical vulnerability.
He had too many connections here. If someone like Katsu, or a well-meaning neighbor, insisted he join a daytime search party or meet for a midday meal, his inability to step into the sun would become a glaring oddity. He could brush it off as trauma, a newfound fear of sunlight… but later, when the existence of 'demons' inevitably surfaced, that same 'fear of sunlight' would paint a target on his back.
Too much trouble.
His thoughts drifted to the ideal tool: an Infinite City. A mobile,隐秘 fortress. Who wouldn't want a teleporting base of operations? Without it, he was earthbound, limited.
The path of the Demon King is long indeed.
He knew the original creator of such a space had been a human who played the biwa. But not every biwa player could become that. Even if he found one now and turned her, the result would likely be another Dry Arrow—useful only for crude labor.
If I were in the original Demon Slayer world, I could replicate Muzan's methods. But this is the Shinobi World.
Perhaps a shinobi with a natural aptitude for space-time ninjutsu would have a higher chance of awakening a spatial Blood Demon Art? The first name that came to mind was the Yellow Flash.
A shame he's dead. And even if he weren't, far beyond my current reach.
For now, creating more demons was like a gacha game. He'd drawn his first card—Taro Fukawa—and gotten the revolting 'Dry Arrow,' a definite failure. If not for it being his first, he'd have scrapped it already.
Shaking his head, he focused on the practical task. He needed a legitimate reason to leave Konoha. He began drafting a request to the Hokage's office.
His circumstances were perfect: orphaned, lost his livelihood and his arm in the Nine-Tails attack. It was only natural for a traumatized civilian to seek a change of scenery, to travel for his mental health. He was, after all, just a chakra-less civilian. The Third Hokage would feel no threat from him. He might even feel a twinge of guilt, consider some minor compensation… though the old monkey was notoriously tight-fisted.
Probably just a token gesture, Shuichi thought dismissively.
Hssss…
Deep in the sewers, unseen by his master, Dry Arrow lurked in a pool of shadow. His turquoise eyes were fixed on two figures moving cautiously through the tunnel ahead, their flashlight beams cutting through the gloom.
The enforced daytime hiding and restricted hunting had left him frustrated and perpetually hungry. His stored 'snack' was gone. And now… two delicacies had wandered into his larder. They smelled far more potent, more nutritious, than the scrawny woman or the sewer rats.
But delicious food was always harder to catch. The memory of his lord's absolute dominion and the searing prohibitions held his instinctual frenzy in check. He didn't charge. He watched, and plotted, from the darkness.
"Does it feel… extra creepy down here today? Or is it just me?" one of the shinobi, a black-haired man, whispered, sweeping his flashlight beam over the slimy walls.
"Feels the same as always. You getting spooked?" his companion, a man with lighter hair, teased, though his own hand rested near his kunai pouch.
"Hah? Me? Scared?" The black-haired ninja puffed up, offended. He'd been on sewer patrol before. But the eerie feeling… maybe it was just his imagination.
In the absolute darkness behind them, just beyond the reach of their light, Dry Arrow's mouth split into a wide, silent grin, revealing rows of yellowed teeth. The hunt was on.
(End of Chapter)
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