Chapter 9 Death Sight
In an instant, Hiro vanished from their sight, his speed now enhanced to a level just beyond human comprehension.
The first ninja barely had time to register the blur of movement before Hiro appeared behind him, his kunai slicing through the air with deadly precision.
The ninja's head rolled to the ground before his body could even collapse.
The squad leader's eyes widened in shock. "Impossible…!" he muttered, but Hiro was already on the move, a shadow of death cutting through the night.
The second ninja lunged at Hiro, but Hiro's Sharingan caught every movement. With a flick of his wrist, Hiro deflected the ninja's blade, driving his kunai deep into the man's chest.
As the life faded from the ninja's eyes, Hiro pulled his kunai free, letting the body drop without a second glance.
The third ninja attempted to retreat, but Hiro was relentless. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his chakra flaring as he unleashed a devastating Fireball Jutsu.
The flames consumed the ninja, his screams cut short as his body was reduced to ash.
Only the squad leader remained, his composure cracking as he faced Hiro, now a figure of pure, terrifying power. "You… you're a monster!" the leader spat, fear tainting his voice.
Hiro's eyes, now with two tomoe, locked onto the squad leader. "You shouldn't have come after her," he said, his voice cold and emotionless.
The squad leader, knowing he had no chance in a straight fight, formed a series of rapid hand seals, attempting to summon a last-ditch jutsu.
But Hiro was faster. In a blur of motion, Hiro appeared in front of the squad leader, his hand poised to strike.
Suddenly, a chilling presence enveloped the area, and time seemed to slow.
Hiro felt an otherworldly power surge through him—a dark, ancient energy bestowed by the God of Death.
His hand, now imbued with this power, plunged into the squad leader's chest, effortlessly piercing through his heart.
The leader gasped, blood spilling from his lips as the light faded from his eyes.
As Hiro withdrew his hand, the squad leader's body slumped to the ground, lifeless.
The dark aura around Hiro began to dissipate, and the Shinigami's Favor, the gift of the God of Death, slowly ebbed away, leaving him with a residual strength that was not overpowering, but significant enough to tip the scales in his favor.
Hiro fell to the ground, a wave of exhaustion crashing over him. Though his injuries were healed, the energy drain left him struggling to even stand.
The power had granted him a fleeting moment of overwhelming strength, but it came at a cost—a reminder that such power was not to be wielded lightly.
In his mind, Hiro heard mechanical voice, an echo that lingered as his vision blurred.
{The God of Death praises you for your exceptional strategic intelligence. Use this power wisely, for it is not without its price.}
{You have proven yourself worthy, Hiro. Your resolve, strategy, and willingness to walk the line between life and death have not gone unnoticed. For this, I shall bestow upon you a gift—an ability that will aid you in the battles to come.}
The God of Death had granted Hiro a new ability: "Death Sight."
This ability allowed Hiro to perceive the life force of any living being, enabling him to track their movements and anticipate their actions with chilling accuracy.
More than that, Spectral Sight granted him the power to see into the spiritual plane, allowing him to interact with souls—whether to communicate, manipulate, or sever them entirely.
What had just happened was beyond his full comprehension.
His theory—that using the Shinigami's Favor on himself while still alive would heal his wounds instead of bringing him back from death—had proven true. But there was more to it, something far darker and more potent at play.
He ignored the message on the blue screen, focusing on the immediate matters at hand.
The connection he had felt when he resurrected Mikoto had been real, and now, in the heat of battle, he had reached out to that same otherworldly power.
To his shock, it had responded, granting him unimaginable strength, albeit for a fleeting moment.
But the cost was steep. The energy that surged through him was not his own, and now that it had faded, he felt hollow, as if his very soul had been touched by forces beyond his understanding.
Breathing heavily, Hiro looked down at his hands, still stained with the blood of his enemies.
The memory of the power coursing through him was terrifying, yet it had saved them.
He was safe, and more importantly, so was Mikoto. But the lingering effects of that power left him questioning what he had unleashed.
Forcing himself to his feet, Hiro turned and saw Mikoto sitting on the ground, her posture slumped and her eyes hollow, as if the will to fight had drained out of her.
The sight twisted Hiro's heart.
He limped over to her, pushing through the fatigue that weighed him down. "Hey, what are you doing sitting here?" he asked, his voice soft.
Mikoto's head slowly lifted at the sound of his voice. When her eyes met his, they widened in disbelief. For a moment, she stared at him, as if doubting her own senses.
Just moments ago, she had seen him on the brink of death, his life slipping away before her eyes. How was he standing here now, completely unscathed?
"Hiro… how…?" Mikoto whispered, her voice trembling with confusion and a glimmer of hope.
He forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I told you I'd always come back," he said, trying to sound reassuring despite the lingering fear gnawing at his insides. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."
Mikoto blinked, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing.
Her hands reached out almost instinctively, touching his chest to confirm he was real, not some cruel illusion. When her fingers met the solid warmth of his body, a sob of relief escaped her lips.
"Hiro… I thought…" she began, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes.
The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in the quiet aftermath of the battle.
Mikoto's tears fell freely now, her composure shattered by the overwhelming emotions she had been holding back.
"You scared me," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought I'd lost you."
After some time, as she began to recover, Mikoto realized she didn't know how Hiro had managed to defeat the ninjas, but the important thing was that they were safe.
Mikoto stood up. "Let's go back," she said, turning to leave while Hiro remained on the ground.
Hiro, still lying there, looked up at her with a faint smile. "I don't have the strength left in my body," he admitted weakly. "You'll have to carry me."
Mikoto hesitated, feeling both embarrassed and unsure. She had never carried anyone before, let alone in the manner Hiro was suggesting. Yet, she knew how important it was to get them both back to the village safely.
Taking a deep breath, Mikoto steeled herself. The strength she had regained was enough for this task, she told herself. It was the least she could do after everything Hiro had done for her.
She approached Hiro, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and determination. "Alright, I'll carry you," she said, her voice steadying as she knelt beside him.
Hiro shifted slightly to make it easier for her. Mikoto carefully lifted him into her arms, adjusting her grip to ensure he was secure.
The position felt awkward, but she managed to hold him in a princess carry, his head resting gently against her shoulder.