Additionally, and most concerning of all, multiple shadows superimposed themselves over the image of Nadja, standing before her. These figures were not clear, but Jin intuitively understood that they were the shadows of those she had slain in the past.
“Why are you trying to confuse me…?”
A strained look crossed Jin’s face. Even attempting to speak now took a mental toll.
“I don’t know what you’re going on about, but I guess it’s time for round two!”
Nadja dashed forward in high spirits, now taking the offensive.
Jin was having trouble moving. She had to do something! Before she even realized what was happening, however, the crimson blade moved to intercept Nadja’s trident, blocking the blow.
“Wh-what is the meaning of this…?!” Jin cried.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you seem to have improved suddenly!”
Jin’s every move felt powerful. Come to think of it, the ogre they’d fought had originally just been an ordinary villager, jerked about so that he could stand his ground in a battle against Jin and Proto, who were more experienced. Crimson Rain also seemed to amplify the physical attributes of its wielder.
Jin had not blocked of her own accord. The sword had acted to protect its wielder. Jin’s body remained stiff with fear, her vision growing steadily cloudier.
Nadja continued to unleash attack after attack, while Jin repelled them through brute strength. Nadja also continued to launch her water spears, which Jin only avoided through blind luck. She was being manipulated like a puppet, just like the ogre back in the fishing village.
As the situation dragged on, the curse seemed to grow more powerful. The red hue deepened, her vision stained with the blood of her past victims. Shadows coiled around her arms and legs.
“What are you trying to do?! Why are you showing me these shadows?!”
If all the sword wished for was to feast upon blood, using fear to drive her bloodlust would have made sense. But this fear seemed to be interfering with her ability to fight. On the other hand, if that was the sword’s intention all along, then why was it also protecting her?
It seemed like a contradiction. She hadn’t lost control of her mind, either, like the ogre had. With each passing moment, Jin understood what the malefic sword was trying to do even less.
But this fear was real. She could see the flickering eyes of the shadows, and she wished she could look away.
“What are you babbling about?!” shouted Nadja.
Jin was sent flying, unable to block Nadja’s last attack fully. Crimson Rain, however, remained firmly grasped in her hand.
Jin was covered with injuries; she could barely make herself move. Her mind and her vision were clouded with fear. Her thoughts were all over the place.
Nadja was charging toward her. Jin remained sprawled on the ground as she stared at Nadja in a haze.
“You don’t seem to be putting up much of a fight anymore, but there is something I need to do, and not even death will stop me. You’re not the only one with a cause. I’ve got my own cause, and I’ll kill you. I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way—I’ll crawl on bloody stumps if need be to see it through! If you want to stop me, you’ll have to get up and kill me first!”
A fire burned in Nadja’s eyes, overlapping with the chimerical eyes of the shadows.
“A cause…,” muttered Jin weakly.
Nadja’s fearsome trident descended through the air.
“Sakura, it is time. Insert the blade into your stomach.”
“Yes, Father.”
“It is unfortunate. But this is our code.”
Their exchange had been short.
They were a clan of assassins that had been operating in Japan since ancient times. Clan members proficient with the katana inherited the name Jin, which meant “blade” or “sword.” Sakura Karasuma had inherited this name as well, and even now, she was referred to as Jin by her associates.
She had cut down many people in her time. Young, old, male, female—it didn’t matter. They had all been evildoers.
Jin always looked her targets in the eyes. This was partly to watch for openings in their guard, but it was also to get a measure of them as a person. With the majority of evildoers, you could see it in their eyes.
Jin believed that cutting down the wicked, those who trampled upon others, was the right thing to do. This was her own way of helping and saving people. She may have been someone else’s tool, but she took pride in that fact.
However, a time eventually came when her convictions wavered.
Occasionally, she encountered targets who carried out evil in the name of some great cause. These were the ones who took revenge against atrocities, who sacrificed the few in order to save the many, or who took extreme measures to correct the wrongs of this world. Unlike the fallen, these people held a fierce light within their eyes.
They did not fear death. They held firm to their beliefs until the very end, often insisting that Jin would have to “kill them first” in order to stop them.
Jin began to feel fear. It wasn’t merely that their spirits had overwhelmed her. She felt something else, a stirring in her chest. One that made her afraid to look away.
It was both anxiety—a vague premonition that if she didn’t change course, she would regret it in the end—as well as a craving for something more than the pride that she had always clung to.
Jin continued to carry out her assassinations, ignoring these painful emotions, until a certain job arrived. The target was a group of young boys and girls—people who in no way appeared to be evil. And the reason for the request was top secret.
“Why should we slay children?”
“We don’t know the reason. We don’t need to. Don’t think—just do,” said her father.
Of course. She simply had to cut them down. Like she always did. But something inside her rebelled. She knew that if she did this, she would regret it.
Time and again, she went to the targets’ locations and peered into their eyes. But she did not see evil. From whichever angle she looked, they just seemed to be ordinary children.