Chapter 17: Raven's Legacy
As dawn broke and night receded, Konoha's intensive search for the mysterious intruders yielded nothing. It was as if the perpetrators had manifested from the shadows and dissolved back into them. No chakra trails, no definitive sightings, no hidden lairs.
But they hadn't vanished without a trace.
Konoha Hospital was in a state of controlled chaos. The shinobi wounded in the bizarre crow attack—Takagawa chief among them—were presenting a new, horrifying symptom. Black crow feathers, glossy and sharp, were sprouting from their skin at the sites of their wounds. The process was accompanied by a maddening, deep-seated itch that no salve could soothe, severely disrupting their recovery and sanity.
Takagawa, with the most wounds, bore the most feathers. In a single morning, five new ones were discovered pushing through his flesh. Attempts to remove them professionally and treat the area with standard antitoxins and antiseptics failed utterly. The feathers regrew, or new ones appeared nearby. Conventional medicine was powerless.
Faced with an unprecedented bio-weapon, the hospital's lead medic-nin ordered extensive blood work and full-body scans on all affected patients.
The results, when they came, were chilling.
All victims showed signs of infection by an unknown, aggressive virus. The theory: the talons and beaks of the monstrous crows had been vectors, introducing the pathogen directly into the bloodstream through their wounds. It was a virus with no recorded history in Konoha's extensive medical archives. They dubbed it 'Corvus Toxin.'
An all-hands effort to develop an antidote was launched. If they could crack the toxin's structure, they might find a clue to its origin, and by extension, the attackers.
In response to the crisis, security across Konoha tightened dramatically. Patrols, both by the standard forces and the Uchiha police, doubled, especially after dark. The village was on edge.
The innocent avian population of Konoha suffered collateral damage. Birds of all kinds found themselves under sudden, intense scrutiny, their peaceful existence upended.
The instigator of it all, Onigarasu, was blissfully unaware of the legacy it had left behind. Following its master's order, it had fled Konoha under cover of darkness. Now, it rested in a colossal, intricate nest of woven branches it had constructed high in the forest. The nest, nearly a meter in diameter, was nestled securely in the crook of an ancient, towering tree nearly a hundred meters tall, wrapped and shielded by thick foliage. Inside this dark, enclosed sanctuary, not a sliver of sunlight could reach. Perfect for daytime recuperation.
It had been a team effort—its many clones working in unison through the night. As the self-proclaimed Crow King, it demanded superior accommodations.
Onigarasu, eyes closed in rest, suddenly snapped them open. Its crimson pupils glinted in the gloom.
What is this?
A trickle of energy, faint but unmistakable, was flowing into its core. It was daytime. All its clones were recalled, dissolved. It wasn't actively hunting.
The source of this flesh-energy… was Konoha.
The crow's gaze seemed to pierce the walls of its nest, the miles of forest, fixing once more on the distant village. Comprehension dawned.
The venom. It must be the venom it left behind!
During its retreat, it had directed its clones to launch suicidal attacks, ensuring its claws broke skin on several shinobi to seed its poison. It hadn't expected the toxin to activate so quickly. In its own experience, the 'Corvus Toxin' was more a debilitating curse than a fast killer. In advanced stages, it would coat a human in feathers, turning them into a twisted 'bird-person,' a permanent source of sustenance. Only the severely weak or immunocompromised might die from it directly.
The crow had considered the ability somewhat niche. Now, it realized its error. The toxin was harvesting for it, passively drawing minuscule amounts of life-energy from each infected host and funneling it back!
It couldn't kill efficiently, but it could farm. The energy from a single host was pitiful. But a hundred? A thousand? Infected across a population?
It could become a self-sustaining energy source. A true, passive income.
For Konoha's skilled medic-nin, developing an antidote was a matter of time. But what of the vast populations outside the ninja villages? The civilians in towns and cities with no such medical expertise?
And this toxin was born of its Blood Demon Art. Perhaps it, too, could evolve, grow stronger.
A thrill of excitement surged through Onigarasu. If not for the deadly sun outside, it would have taken wing immediately, racing back to Konoha to present this brilliant discovery to the Ghost King.
Curse this weakness! it thought, frustration cooling its excitement. Why can't I contact him directly? Such a magnificent breakthrough, and it had to savor it alone. The melancholy of isolation settled over it once more. It closed its eyes, waiting impatiently for the embrace of night.
"Hm?"
In the dark apartment, Momiji, deep in meditation to refine his Ghost Qi, frowned. His eyes opened, focusing on his arm. Several black feathers had pushed their way through his skin without his notice. Without hesitation, his fingers closed around them and yanked. The feathers came free with a soft rip. The tiny wounds healed instantly.
He examined the feathers, his expression coldly analytical. Poison from another demon. How? Even in incubation, his enhanced demonic physiology should have detected and neutralized it automatically.
He hadn't sensed a thing.
The poison was weak, easily consumed by his own demonic cells. It certainly wasn't from the Ghost King. Was it a remnant from before his transformation? A memory he no longer possessed.
Tch. Grows feathers. Aims to turn humans into bird-men. Which incompetent demon has such poor taste? If he could identify the source, he'd be tempted to find them and… educate them on proper conduct. You poison me, I leave a lasting impression on you. Fair trade.
Having dealt with the impurity, Momiji didn't return to his meditation. His Ghost Qi progress had stalled completely after manifesting its 'stamina drain' trait. Hours of focused cultivation had yielded zero advancement.
The path forward felt blocked. Was pure meditation the wrong approach?
A darker, more instinctual thought arose. Perhaps… growth requires fuel. Perhaps it requires hunting.
(End of Chapter)
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