The night smelled of rain and blood.
Renji Takeda sat on the rooftop's edge, his dark figure merging with the black sky. A drizzle fell, leaving tiny beads on his gloved hands and tactical suit. This rain was quiet, the calm before the storm. It felt like a cleansing, washing away sins.
His long, jet-black hair was in a low ponytail. Strands clung to his sharp face from the damp air. His piercing eyes gleamed in the faint city glow, showing the cold precision of a man who lived in shadows. A thin scar ran above his left cheekbone, a silent mark of battles he had fought and survived.
Renji's frame was lean but powerful, shaped by years of harsh training in the Takeda Clan. His combat suit had no insignia or sign of allegiance. It promised death to anyone who dared oppose him. He stood still and composed, yet tension rippled through his muscles beneath his attire. He was a predator in waiting.
He flexed his fingers around the hilt of his katana. The lacquered handle felt cool against his palm. The blade was old but pristine, passed down through generations of Takeda assassins. Tonight, It would drink once more.
Below him, the estate loomed like a fortress of shadows. High stone walls surrounded patrolling guards and a single dim path leading to the study. His target waited there. A powerful man, corrupt beyond redemption, or so he was told. But Renji learned long ago that words like justice and honor meant little in their world. There was only survival. Those who failed to grasp this were swallowed whole.
Like those who hesitated.
A sharp breath escaped his lips. He didn't need doubts clouding his mind tonight.
"Focus, Renji."
He had killed enough men to know hesitation was a weakness. His father had taught him that from the moment he could hold a blade. The Takeda way is absolute. We do not question, we do not waver.
Yet, at twenty-eight, Renji found himself questioning everything.
The first time he took a life, he thought it was necessary. He saw himself as a tool, a weapon honed to perfection. But each kill chipped away at something inside him—something his father would have called weakness.
What was left of him now? A son struggling to meet expectations. A killer searching for meaning.
But there was no meaning in this world. Only duty. Only blood.
Something gnawed at him tonight. A whisper in his mind hinted at change. He had lived by the blade, following orders without question. Yet, a quiet voice asked: For how much longer?
The earpiece crackled.
"Target is in the location. Guards at every entrance. You have five minutes."
He crouched on the tiled rooftop, eyes fixed on the courtyard below. Four guards. Two by the gate, one near the koi pond, and another at the entrance. Their movements were disciplined, methodical, and predictable. They had no idea death was watching them.
Renji tightened his grip on his blade. He slowed his breathing, letting the shadows ripple around him. Shadowshift. His form wavered, blending into the darkness. To an untrained eye, he had vanished.
He took a deep breath. One thought. Then he dropped.
The gravel barely shifted beneath his boots. Silent Execution muffled all sound around him. His footsteps were quiet, his movements whispers in the night.
The two guards by the gate stood stiff, unaware that death had arrived.
Renji didn't slow.
Two kunai knives flashed in the dim light, slicing through the air.
The first guard barely blinked before cold steel pierced his throat. His eyes widened. He clawed at the handle, a wet gurgle escaping his lips as blood flowed between his fingers.
The second guard turned, mouth opening to alert the others.
Another kunai struck, burying deep between his ribs. It punched through flesh, severing arteries.
The guard staggered, trembling hands feeling the warmth of his blood. His strength faded, knees buckling as he collapsed against the gate. His body twitched before going still.
The guard by the koi pond turned, brows furrowed. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, as if sensing something was wrong.
Too late.
Renji's blade whispered through the air, finding flesh. A muted gasp. He caught the body before it fell, lowering it soundlessly into the pond. The ripples spread, then stilled.
He moved on.
Renji moved toward the last guard at the entrance. The guard sensed something.
His posture tensed, and he tightened his grip on the sword.
But Renji was already in motion.
He closed the distance in a heartbeat, stepping through the flickering candlelight like a shadow.
The guard barely drew his blade when—
Steel flashed.
Renji's katana sliced through flesh, bone, and sinew.
A moment later,
A head hit the ground.
A wet thump followed as the body fell, blood pooling on the wooden floor, dark and glistening in the faint candlelight.
Renji flicked the blood from his blade with a quick motion, then stepped past the corpse.
The shoji doors of the study were slightly ajar, candlelight spilling through the gaps.
Something felt off. The air was too still.
He focused. Echovision.
The world sharpened into sound. He heard hidden men inhale and the subtle creak of leather. He caught the metallic click of a safety being disengaged.
An ambush.Eight men. Armed. Waiting. The realization struck a moment too late. They weren't ordinary guards.
The first attacker lunged from the left. His skin darkened like forged steel, Ironhide. The blade arcing toward Renji's ribs scraped uselessly against his reinforced flesh. No clean kill.
Renji twisted, moving with the attack, redirecting it. The man overextended, and Renji drove his elbow into the soft cartilage of his throat.
A strangled gasp.
Renji acted without a flicker of doubt. Heartstopper Strike.
His fingers grazed the man's collarbone, sending a jolt of energy through him. Muscles locked up. Limbs became traitors. The guard stood paralyzed, powerless against his own body.
No time was wasted.
In one seamless move, Renji advanced, blade gleaming in the dim light. A clean, horizontal swipe. Steel met skin.
For a heartbeat, stillness reigned.
Then the head tumbled from shoulders, thudding against the ground like fate itself.
The body lingered, defying its destiny for a heartbeat longer, before crumpling into a lifeless heap.
One down.
A thunderous roar erupted to the right, War Cry. The air trembled, concussive waves rattling the study, scattering papers like confetti.
Renji swayed, ears ringing—a disorienting symphony of chaos.
Amidst the cacophony, another foe barreled in, Juggernaut Stride propelling his assault. Each stride echoed like cannon fire, a speed too swift to intercept.
Renji rolled just in time, narrowly escaping. The attacker smashed through a wooden pillar, splinters exploding like fireworks.
Before Renji could regroup, another enemy lunged from behind, Titan's Grip tightening around his wrist.
A grave error.
Renji spun with the force, dancing with the grip instead of resisting. A twist of his body, a shift of weight, and the attacker's momentum turned traitor.
Renji broke free, leveraging the man's pull to twist his arm behind his back, unbalancing him. A sharp, startled breath escaped the guard as he staggered forward, utterly vulnerable.
Renji leapt into action, a blur of precision.
In one swift motion, he reversed his grip on the katana and drove it upward, piercing through the man's side, between ribs. The blade sank deep, cutting through flesh with surgical finesse.
The guard gasped, blood cascading from his lips, body convulsing as his knees buckled.
With a sharp twist, Renji writhed the blade. A strangled sound—half scream, half gurgle—was all the man could muster before Renji yanked the sword free, allowing him to collapse into the embrace of death.
"Two down." The thought flickered through Renji's mind, cold as steel, even as he was already pivoting to confront the next foe.
A bullet raced forward. Renji moved before the sound even danced in the air.
In a split second, he twisted, yanking the falling body into the path of the shot. The bullet lodged itself in dead flesh, the shooter's eyes widening in frustration.
But Renji didn't grant him a second chance. Shadownet.
The flickering candlelight twisted, shadows slithering unnaturally beneath the gunman's feet. They surged upward, sharp, serpentine tendrils of ink-black darkness that snared his throat and wrists, immobilizing him.
Renji surged ahead, steel glinting wickedly.
"Three down."
A sledgehammer-like fist crashed into Renji's ribs, Titan's Grip in action. Pain erupted across his side, bones creaking under the weight. He didn't resist; he rolled with the impact, absorbing the force instead of shattering under it.
The moment the guard overcommitted, Renji sprang into action.
His heel hooked behind the man's ankle, sweeping his legs out from beneath him. The guard thudded to the floor with a heavy, meaty crash, air exploding from his lungs.
Renji was already on him.
Before the man could even comprehend the chaos, Renji's katana drove into his chest, slicing effortlessly through flesh, bone, and sinew.
The guard's eyes widened, mouth opening in a silent plea as blood bubbled forth.
Renji twisted the blade.
A wet, sickening crunch ricocheted through the room as the guard's body jerked once, then lay still.
"Four."
The remaining guards hesitated. They had prepared for Renji Takeda, but not for this.
They had expected an assassin—skilled, yes, but predictable. Instead, they faced something far more sinister.
A specter in the shadows. Much faster than their eyes could track, deadlier than their warriors could withstand.
In that moment, doubt crept into their gaze.
Yet, they charged forth. Adrenaline Rush. Strength surged through their veins, muscles tightening, reflexes sharpening.
A katana slashed high. Renji met it midair; the clash of steel rang loud in the chamber.
But another attack loomed, creeping from behind. A fatal mistake.
Renji exhaled.
Afterimage Step.
For a fleeting instant, three figures stood in the room.
The first attacker swung, his blade slicing clean through nothingness, an afterimage dancing mockingly.
His eyes widened in horror, his stance wavering. Too late.
The second guard barely had time to realize what transpired before movement whispered dangerously behind him.
A flash of steel pierced through his ribs, sinking deep into his core. A strangled gasp escaped him as warmth filled his lungs.
The guard's body arched violently, hands twitching, blood bubbling forth.
Renji didn't grant him a lingering agony.
With a sharp twist of the hilt, he ripped the blade sideways, the keen edge shredding flesh, bone, and muscle in one fluid motion.
A sickening schlick reverberated as the guard crumpled, chest torn open, lifeless before he kissed the ground.
"Five."
The last three surged forward as one.
Renji extended his fingers, whispering life into the shadows.
The tendrils of Shadownet lunged like voracious serpents, wrapping around two guards before they could react.
They flailed, clawing at their throats in futility. The shadows tightened like a vice, choking their windpipes with ruthless efficiency.
One guard's eyes bulged, legs thrashing wildly, boots skidding against the slick floor. His veins darkened, his face contorted in horror as the shadows constricted.
The second let out a gurgling scream, his fingers desperately prying at the tendrils, only for a new coil to snap his wrist backward with a sickening crunch.
They struggled. Then they convulsed.
Finally, as Renji clenched his fist, the shadows delivered one last, merciless twist, necks snapping like brittle twigs.
The bodies crumpled to the ground, motionless. Lifeless.
The last guard attempted to flee.
Renji stepped forward, then vanished.
When the final guard glanced back, his vision blurred, then doubled.
For a fleeting, disorienting moment, he saw two worlds at once.
The room from where he stood.
And the room from the floor.
His lips parted, but sound stayed trapped within.
Renji sheathed his blade with a sharp click.
A heartbeat later, the guard's body split cleanly in two, collapsing sideways as blood pooled beneath him.
"Eight."
Silence engulfed the study.
Renji exhaled. A tougher fight than he had anticipated. A warning.
Amidst the bodies, Renji stood, breath steady yet thoughts racing. Who plotted this ambush?
Their movements had been synchronized, their strikes precise, not merely trained, but conditioned. And more than that… they wielded Sanguisara.
His grip tightened around the hilt. This shouldn't have been possible. Only the Five Families possessed such arts, guarded through bloodlines.
"Then how…?"
His mind replayed the conflict. Ironhide.Titan's Grip. War Cry. Adrenaline Rush.
Renji's gaze sharpened. These were Petrov techniques.
But these men were not Bratva.
That left one grim possibility.
"Someone is leaking the secrets of the Five."
His stomach twisted, dread gnawing at him. Sanguisara wasn't something to be learned; it had to be born into one's blood. Unless…
Renji's fingers brushed against his wrist, feeling the pulsing power that made the Five untouchable.
"Blood."
The realization settled cold in his gut, but before he could dwell further,
His earpiece crackled.
Not with a voice. Only static.
His spotter.
Renji's heart raced. In an instant, he was sprinting towards the roof, boots whispering against the wooden beams. His body throbbed from the skirmish, but there was no time to falter.
When he reached the top, dread flooded his veins.
Blood. A dark pool beneath the moonlight.
A motionless form.
His spotter, throat slashed cleanly.
And the worst part?
The target had vanished.
A failed mission. His first.
Renji paused, breath steady, thoughts awhirl. His pulse hammered in his ears, drowning out the rain tapping against the rooftop.
"Was this a setup?" The query ignited in his mind, but a harsher thought clawed for dominance. "Or am I merely fabricating excuses for my first failure?"
His father's voice echoed: "A Takeda does not fail. A Takeda does not err."
But he had. The target was gone. His spotter was dead. He had walked straight into an ambush.
"Did someone betray us?" The thought gnawed, but another part of him, trained never to question his prowess, resisted it.
Maybe it wasn't a setup. Maybe he miscalculated. Maybe, for the first time in his life… he simply wasn't enough.
The thought unsettled him more than the bodies strewn around him.
He tightened his grip on his blade.
"No. I refuse to accept that yet. Not without answers."