At the entrance to Tanaka Rō's home, a broad-browed, thick-bearded samurai with a shaved pate strode over.
He angrily drew the katana from the two swords at his waist, immediately intending to hack off the head of this foul little commoner brat who had insulted him.
Shing!
The familiar yet ear-piercing sound of a sword being drawn entered Shiraishi's ears.
Originally kicked to the ground and still somewhat dazed, he jolted violently and instinctively pulled a kunai from his waist.
At that moment, Shiraishi no longer cared that attacking a samurai was a serious crime.
Because his past experience told him that if he did not do something immediately after hearing that sound, his head would definitely be chopped off!
Many of Shiraishi's friends had died that way!
When a katana cut through someone's neck, their head would fall to the ground with half their neck still attached, then roll around a few times. That was what it meant to be dead.
Shiraishi did not want to die!
He scrambled to his feet, then hurled the kunai—which had been sharpened at both the head and blade—straight at the samurai's chest. The samurai was wearing only ordinary clothes and had no armor.
"Hmph!"
The samurai casually flicked his katana and knocked the kunai away. It flew past Aine's cheek at incredible speed, missing it by a hair, and sank deeply into a wooden board nearby.
The girl was so frightened that she stood completely still, feeling as though her body no longer belonged to her.
Shiraishi knew that there was no way his two legs could outrun this burly samurai.
So he had already pulled out the cloth bag he had prepared beforehand, packed full of lime.
Then he suddenly threw it backward!
The quicklime sprayed out like willow catkins, rising