Chapter 11: The Demon Crow's Hunt
Takashi was still chattering away, sharing his excitement from a successful mission with his friend, completely unaware that Makoto's attention was elsewhere. Makoto kept glancing around, his responses brief and automatic.
"Hey! Makoto, are you even listening?" Takashi huffed, annoyed by his friend's distraction.
"Of course I am," Makoto muttered, his eyes not on Takashi but scanning the night sky above. "Hey… Takashi. Look, what's that?"
He squinted, tracking a dark shape moving against the stars.
"Don't change the subject!"
The shape descended rapidly, entering the dim halo of a streetlight. Makoto's blood ran cold.
Bird. A huge, black bird. It was folding its wings into a dive, aiming straight for them. He could see the glint of its cruel, sharp beak.
"LOOK OUT!"
He didn't have time to explain. Shoving Takashi hard to the side, Makoto lost his own balance and threw himself to the ground, instinctively covering his head.
THUD.
He hit the pavement, pain flaring in his wrists. A split second later, a torrent of wind ripped over his back, tearing at his clothes. Leaves and debris whipped through the air. If he'd been a moment slower, that beak would have speared right through him.
"S-so that's what it was…" Takashi stammered, his face ghostly pale from where he'd been shoved. He'd seen the black blur slice through the space he'd just occupied. The wind had felt like a physical blow. An attack… inside the village? His sense of security shattered.
"Damn it! What is that thing?!" Makoto scrambled up, his eyes darting, finding the massive bird already perched on a nearby roof, its crimson eyes fixed on them.
It looks like a crow… but since when do crows get that big?
No time for questions. He hauled a shaky-legged Takashi to his feet and dragged him behind a stone planter box at the side of the road. The street was empty. Maybe someone would come, but would they be a civilian or a shinobi?
Makoto peeked out. The giant bird was still there, watching, not immediately pursuing.
"HELP!" Makoto's shout ripped through the quiet night, fueled by chakra to carry. "SOMEONE, HELP!"
If they were in the village, the best tactic was to call for backup.
He slapped Takashi's cheek lightly. "Snap out of it! Shout!"
"H-help! HELP!" Takashi's voice joined, weaker but desperate.
CAAW!
The crow, Onigarasu, understood. Anger, hot and simple, flared in its mind. Cheaters. Calling for reinforcements.
Fine. Let's see how fast they come.
"Blood Demon Art: Murder of Crows."
A few droplets of dark blood seeped from the crow's feathers, hanging in the air like sinister dew. Each droplet trembled, then split, and split again, until over a dozen globules hung suspended. They pulsed, then expanded, morphing into the rough, liquid shape of crows—spectral, crimson silhouettes.
Then, in a blink, the blood solidified, gaining mass, texture, and feather. More than a dozen perfect, flesh-and-blood duplicates of Onigarasu materialized, each with the same gleaming red eyes. A murder of demon crows.
CAAW!
At the mental command, the flock exploded into motion. They became a swirling, shrieking vortex of black feathers and sharp beaks, descending upon the two genin behind their flimsy cover.
Controlling the clones was effortless for Onigarasu; they were extensions of its own will, limbs made of blood and malice. Their beaks could pierce wood. Their talons could rend flesh. Even a little damage would be satisfying.
The clones flew with dizzying speed, creating a small, localized storm around the planter box. Striking at them was like trying to hit individual raindrops in a hurricane. Kunai and shuriken were either dodged with preternatural agility or deflected with a sharp clang of beak on metal.
Makoto's mind raced. Substitution! But one glance at the terrified, frozen Takashi killed the idea. If he fled, Takashi would be torn apart in seconds. He couldn't do it.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled Takashi down into a tight crouch, shielding him as best he could. They could only protect their heads and vital areas, weathering the storm of pecks and slashes. Blood welled from countless shallow but painful wounds on their arms and backs. The clones' attacks were relentless, harrying, designed to overwhelm and exhaust.
Tch. The crow can use a Blood Demon Art right after transformation? Shuichi observed from his mental link, mildly impressed. I guess potential varies. Still, it's not strong enough to finish them quickly.
The clones were physical equals to the original, but their attacks, while frightening, lacked the sheer, crushing power to deliver instant kills. This was a battle of attrition.
The sound of running footsteps. Reinforcements—two chunin and an Uchiha police officer—rounded the corner, skidding to a halt at the chaotic scene.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball!" one chunin roared, hands already in a seal.
A massive orb of flame roared into the swirling crow flock, engulfing three clones instantly. They didn't burn like birds; they dissolved into sprays of dark blood that vaporized in the intense heat. Two more clones, their feathers singed, were finished off by a hail of well-aimed kunai.
Seeing the tide turn, Onigarasu made its decision. Cannot win. Disengage.
With a mental command, it recalled the surviving clones. But not before two of them, acting on its will, swooped down. Their talons, strong as iron vices, clamped onto the bleeding, semi-conscious form of Takashi. With powerful beats of their wings, they lifted him off the ground.
Eating through a clone was as good as eating directly for the demon crow. This prize would not be wasted.
As the two clones bore their struggling burden skyward, merging with the fleeing Onigarasu, the remaining clones dissolved into blood-mist, leaving no trace behind.
The Konoha shinobi rushed forward. The green-vested chunin knelt beside Makoto, who was bleeding but conscious. He looked at the deep, parallel gashes and puncture wounds. Caused by a bird's beak and claws? The scale of the injuries was all wrong.
These were two fresh genin, skilled only in the academy three. They'd stood no chance against a coordinated flock of such unnatural creatures. The discipline of the birds… it felt orchestrated. And they left no bodies, just… vanished.
A chilling thought formed. This wasn't wild animals. This was a coordinated attack. A ninja, or something like one, controlling them. A summoning? A kinjutsu?
The stakes had just skyrocketed. This needed to go directly to the Hokage.
His eyes flicked involuntarily to the Uchiha officer who had arrived with them, standing slightly apart, his Sharingan active as he scanned the now-empty sky. The chunin's lips tightened with barely concealed disdain.
Where was the famed Uchiha Police Force when this happened? Letting enemies operate so brazenly inside the village. The memory of the Nine-Tails attack, and the conspicuous absence of Uchiha on the front lines that night, curdled in his stomach. Useless.
He focused back on the wounded genin. "Medic! We need a medic team here, now!" The immediate concern was saving a life. The mystery of the giant, demonic crows would have to wait—but not for long.
(End of Chapter)
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