Shikamaru ignored Soku’s jab and continued. “You ever see that guy before, Ro?”
Shikamaru turned his eyes on the couch set up on the red carpet in front of a tea shop in the corner of the street. Ro glanced back over his shoulder briefly before turning his face toward the tea shop, as if following Shikamaru’s gaze. “I-it cannot be.”
“Huh?! What d’you mean? I, like, don’t follow.”
“So you have, huh?” Shikamaru let Soku’s words slide by and spoke to Ro. “You’ve seen him before.”
The two looked at the man sitting on the couch, spine ramrod straight, drinking tea with his eyes closed. He, too, was wearing a long coat. The man called for someone in the shop. An elderly man, apparently the shop owner, came out, bobbing his head up and down over and over in a bow. The way he deprecated himself to the point of servility was the manner of a citizen currying favor with a daimyo or one of his attendants.
“That is Minoichi, who was a member of the Anbu.”
“That man—”
“He was, like, supposed to have gone missing in the Great War,” Soku muttered, cutting Shikamaru off. The three of them averted their eyes to prevent Minoichi from noticing them and passed by the tea shop.
“This’d all be way faster if I just asked him directly.” Fireworks shot off in his heart, and the corners of Shikamaru’s mouth turned upward naturally.
∞
“Don’t go moving anymore,” Shikamaru said matter-of-factly to the man grinding his teeth, face tensed far more than necessary. They were in a cul-de-sac.
Shikamaru had deliberately chosen a place between reinforced concrete buildings that was damp and clammy even during the day; not a soul was around.
Ro and Soku were on lookout at the entrance to the cul-de-sac. Anbu masters who had infiltrated any number of places, the pair hid themselves in the shadow of a building and held their breath as they concentrated all their attention on the road, as darkness more intense than the gloom of the building’s shadow oozed out from Shikamaru’s feet. Crawling out from either foot, the darkness twined itself around the body of the man before him, creeping along the ground like two inky snakes. The snakes wound themselves around the man’s torso before changing shape into an enormous hand, the fingers of which were slowly approaching the man’s neck.
Suffocating Darkness.
The House of Nara that Shikamaru had been born into was a family that had, for generations, excelled in the art of manipulating shadows. Suffocating Darkness was a jutsu that bound his opponent’s movements with his own shadow, a shadow that had physical power. Thus, not only was his enemy’s body restrained, he could also inflict damage directly.
“I could strangle you with my shadow.”
“I-impossible… Why are you…”
“You know who I am?” According to Ro, this man was a ninja in the Konoha Anbu. It would have been no surprise to learn he knew of Shikamaru. “I know your name, y’know. Minoichi.”
“I-I don’t know that name.”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You’re originally a Konohagakure shinobi, right?”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He put more strength into his shadow as it crawled along Minoichi’s body. The hand-shaped shadow hovering around his neck latched on to his Adam’s apple.
“Kaah!” Minoichi cried out in anguish.
“If you were born in Konoha, then naturally you’re aware of just what I can do with this jutsu of the House of Nara, aren’t you?”
I could keep tightening this noose and kill you. That was the implied threat.
“What are you doing in here dressed like that?”
“I-I’m not a ninja anymore,” Minoichi said in a hoarse voice, glaring at Shikamaru. “I’m a revolutionary. All of you living your idle lives in the stagnant world of the ninja couldn’t possibly understand our noble intentions.”
“What kind of nonsense is this? I’m asking you what a ‘revolutionary’ is, got it?” The shadow fingertips tightened their grip.
“Ngh!” Minoichi groaned.
“I don’t care if I end up strangling you to death, y’know,” he spat, feeling like he might throw up himself. His heart was being invaded by darkness.
“Even if I did explain it, you wouldn’t under—Hngh!”
Shikamaru pushed the shadow into the Adam’s apple with an added burst of strength. “If you’re just going to talk garbage, then I really will do you in.” His pupils were wide open as he stared at Minoichi.
“U-understood…”
“Don’t you mean ‘understood, sir’?”
“Understood, sir…”
Shikamaru eased his shadow grip, and Minoichi coughed violently with teary eyes.
“Now, answer. What’s a revolutionary? You guys used to be shinobi. What are you trying to do now?”
Minoichi’s eyes darted in confusion at the rapid-fire questions. He looked at Shikamaru’s cool face, instantly grasped that not a single wasted word would be permitted, and took a deep breath before starting to talk in a rush.
“This nation is ruled by us, the revolutionaries. There are none of such humble birth as the daimyo here. Revolutionary is the title used for those who were once shinobi, but who have since had their eyes opened by Lord Gengo’s divine will. Our objective, together with Lord Gengo, is a true revolution in this world. No matter what you shinobi might plan, you are powerless before Lord Gengo. Whatever you might hear from me, however you might try to learn the truth of this land, it is in vain,” Minoichi said, and laughed.
“No!”
Minoichi slammed his jaw shut in an attempt to bite off his own tongue.
No.
Before his teeth could finish the job, something shot through Minoichi’s neck.
“I pierced the chakra point to make his whole body go to sleep. He’ll be out for, like, three days. Won’t be able to move,” Soku said, having come up to stand behind him at some point. “Revolutionary, huh? Thinks he’s, like, fancy or something. Totally, like, creepy.” Pursing her lips, Soku stared down at Minoichi on the ground, his face peaceful as if he were truly asleep.