The small Yakuza leader seethed with rage. What should have been a simple task—gathering boats—had cost him several of his men. His humiliation was compounded by the thought of facing Lord Gankuro, who already viewed him with disdain. Even worse, the other Yakuza leaders would mock him endlessly, tarnishing his reputation.
Fury boiled over as he swung his sword, cutting down a villager who dared to charge him. "You bastards! Are you rebelling against His Majesty the Shogun?! Fine, then—I'll kill you all myself!"
With a bellow, the Yakuza leader leaped into the fray, his massive blade sweeping through the villagers. Several fell in an instant, their lifeless bodies hitting the dirt.
Haruto, the young man who had risen to defend his home, watched in horror as the villagers—people who had cared for him and his sister—were slaughtered before his eyes. Overwhelmed by grief and rage, he gripped the sword he had taken from a fallen Yakuza and charged at the leader.
The Yakuza leader spotted him immediately. Kicking aside another villager attempting a sneak attack, he turned his attention to the boy. A cruel grin spread across his face as he raised his oversized blade. "Come on, kid," he sneered, "let's see how long you last."
Haruto had never been trained in swordsmanship, but raw determination guided his movements. As the leader's blade swung toward him, Haruto instinctively countered, their weapons clashing with a deafening clang. The Yakuza leader had expected to overpower the boy instantly, but to his shock, Haruto held firm. Veins bulged on the boy's arms as he matched the leader's strength, even managing to push back slightly.
"What?! This brat… How is this possible?!" The Yakuza leader's eyes widened in disbelief.
Sensing his enemy's hesitation, Haruto roared and pressed his attack, forcing the leader to step back. But before he could capitalize on the moment, the leader shifted tactics. With a quick, calculated move, he withdrew his blade and delivered a powerful kick to Haruto's chest. The boy was sent flying several meters, crashing to the ground in a heap. Blood spattered the dirt as he coughed violently, clutching his ribs.
The Yakuza leader calmly rested his sword on his shoulder, shaking his head with disdain. "Pathetic. All brute force and no technique. Strength alone won't save you, kid."
Haruto struggled to lift his head, glaring at the Yakuza leader through gritted teeth. A middle-aged villager, Takeshi, rushed to his side and helped him sit up. "Haruto, are you okay? Stay down—you're hurt."
Coughing but resolute, Haruto shook his head. "I'm fine, Uncle Takeshi. I can still fight."
He used his sword as a crutch to stand, ignoring the searing pain in his chest. But as he looked at the towering Yakuza leader, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. After a moment's hesitation, he turned to Takeshi. "Uncle, take the village chief and the others. Get the elderly and children out of here. And… please, take my sister with you."
Before Takeshi could respond, Haruto tightened his grip on his sword and charged at the leader again, shouting a defiant battle cry.
Takeshi reached out as if to stop him, but seeing the determination in Haruto's eyes, he relented. Swallowing his own fear, he turned and ran to find the village chief.
The villagers, though outmatched, refused to give up. Step by step, they retreated, using whatever they could to slow the Yakuza' advance and buy time for their families to escape. Their courage came at a cost—several lay dead or dying, their blood soaking into the dirt.
Haruto, meanwhile, faced the Yakuza leader head-on. Though his lack of training left him at a disadvantage, his sheer willpower kept him standing. Again and again, he swung his blade, his attacks wild but relentless. The leader, a seasoned fighter, quickly adapted, parrying each strike and delivering shallow cuts that slowly sapped the boy's strength.
By the time Haruto's arms began to tremble, he was covered in blood from a dozen wounds. None were immediately fatal, but the steady loss of blood was taking its toll.
Even so, Haruto refused to fall. He stood panting, his chest heaving, as he prepared for another attack.
The Yakuza leader couldn't help but feel a grudging respect. "A kid with no training, fighting like this in his first battle? You've got guts," he admitted. Lowering his sword slightly, he added, "Kozuki Sukiyaki needs men like you. If you join us, I'll make sure you and your family are taken care of. This is your chance to become a samurai."
Haruto's breaths came in ragged gasps as he glanced around. Familiar faces lay scattered across the ground, lifeless. Villagers who had once shared meals with him, protected his sister, and treated him like family—gone. The weight of their sacrifice burned in his chest.
He clenched his teeth, gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white. With a hoarse voice, he spat, "I'd rather die."
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