Rashta
patreon
15. The True Face of the Shinobi World
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 05:44:52 +0000 UTC
Kikuchi’s face darkened, as if he still had something to say. But Hidan’s nose suddenly twitched, and his expression lit up with excitement.
“Huh? I smell tonkatsu!”
Without even glancing at Kikuchi’s grim expression, he dashed off toward the source of the aroma.
Shiki followed and soon spotted a small town ahead. Without hesitation, he strode in after Hidan.
“Lord Kikuchi, what should we…?”
The two cultists hesitated, glancing nervously at their leader.
After all, Kikuchi was the cult leader’s most trusted subordinate—formerly the second-in-command of the Jashin cult.
On the other hand, Hidan and Shiki were the so-called “Chosen Ones,” both notorious for casually lopping off heads.
If possible, they’d rather not offend either side.
Kikuchi clenched his fists, watching Hidan and Shiki disappear into the town. With a cold snort, he muttered, “Tch. Follow them.”
Inside the town, Hidan instantly zeroed in on a tonkatsu restaurant and began devouring plates of fried pork cutlets.
Shiki sat beside him, eating just as voraciously without a hint of restraint.
Both had monstrous appetites. In no time, over twenty empty plates were stacked on their table.
“Ahhh~! That hit the spot!”
Hidan leaned back in his chair, patting his full stomach. He glanced sideways at Shiki, who remained expressionless, and scoffed.
“Hey, bastard, is your stomach a bottomless pit or what?”
Shiki casually picked his teeth with a toothpick. “Your stomach’s just too small. If you don’t eat more, how can you serve Lord Jashin properly?”
In truth, Shiki’s digestive system was far from normal. No matter how much he ate, everything was rapidly converted into energy.
Twenty plates of tonkatsu? He could easily handle a hundred more—not that it was necessary.
Once the two were done, a middle-aged, balding man—the restaurant’s owner—approached cautiously.
With a comb-over, a thin mustache, and a towel draped over his shoulder, he forced a polite smile.
“Um… gentlemen, were you… satisfied with your meal?”
The owner’s wariness was understandable. Hidan, with his wild appearance and bloodthirsty aura, didn’t exactly scream upstanding citizen.
A small-business owner like him couldn’t afford to offend someone like that.
Hidan waved a hand cheerfully. “Damn right! Old man, your tonkatsu’s not bad.”
The owner didn’t react to the disrespectful tone, instead bowing slightly. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
As Hidan stood up to leave, the man hurriedly called out.
“E-excuse me, sir…?”
Surprisingly, Hidan—perhaps in a good mood after eating—didn’t snap at him.
“What?”
The owner rubbed his hands nervously. “Well… you haven’t paid yet.”
Fifty servings of tonkatsu wasn’t a small expense for a humble shop like his.
“Huh?”
Hidan scratched his head, genuinely confused, then turned to Shiki. “Wait, you gotta pay for food?”
Shiki sighed internally.
He’s not joking. He really doesn’t know.
The owner’s face paled further.
Shiki shrugged. “I don’t carry money. But Kikuchi might.”
Hidan’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh, good point!”
He strode to the door, pulled out a flare, and fired it into the sky.
A crimson firework exploded—the Jashin cult’s emergency signal.
Within minutes, Kikuchi and the others rushed to the restaurant, only to find Hidan lounging lazily and Shiki sipping tea.
Hidan grinned. “Perfect timing! Pay for our food.”
Kikuchi’s jaw dropped. “You used the emergency signal… for this?”
Hidan tilted his head. “Yeah? What else?”
Crack.
Kikuchi’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles audibly popped.
Ignoring him, Hidan brushed past and called over his shoulder.
“Hey, Shiki! Let’s hit the hot springs next!”
Shiki adjusted his glasses. “A hot spring does sound nice.”
Kikuchi finally snapped.
“Enough.”
He drew a long blade from his coat, eyes glinting with menace.
“Since when does the Jashin cult pay for meals?”
A flash of steel—
The balding owner’s head hit the floor before his expression could even shift from shock to horror.
Kikuchi didn’t spare the corpse a glance, as if he’d just slaughtered a chicken.
“I don’t care if you’re ‘Chosens.’ As members of the Jashin cult, you will follow my orders outside.”
Blood dripped from his blade as he glared at them.
Shiki turned slowly, his glasses reflecting a cold light.
“Trying to intimidate us?”
Hidan licked his lips, grinning wildly.
“Man, you talk too much.”
Then, oddly, he glanced at Shiki. “Hey, if I kill this guy… that cool with you?”
Shiki’s lips curled slightly. He gave an indifferent shrug.
“Do what you want. I’m tired of the noise anyway.”
“Sweet.”
Hidan’s face flushed with excitement, as if already envisioning the carnage.
Kikuchi’s eye twitched.
His plan had been simple: kill the owner to assert dominance, remind these two of their place, and reestablish his authority.
Instead, they’d brushed it off like an annoyance—mocking him.
“Fine. I’ll teach you two a lesson in Lord Jashin’s name.”
Tension crackled between them.
No one paid attention to the headless corpse or the owner’s family weeping nearby.
This was the shinobi world.
The real shinobi world.
