Blood Asura

Rain fell in a steady drizzle, blurring the world before him.

Arata stood silently before the gravestone, unmoving as the rain fell upon him.

It had already been three days.

Not far away, Izumi stood waiting beneath an umbrella. She had been there for three days, too.

That night, when Crow tapped on the window and brought him the Mangekyō, the anguish Arata had been suppressing finally erupted.

Revenge!

He would have his revenge!

Everyone involved in that hunt would pay!

They would join his brother in death!

He pulled out a storage scroll. Inside were the items he had collected during his first mission: bloodstained armor and weapons.

At the same time, a pale blue, low-grade summoning talisman appeared in his hand.

Blood dripped onto the talisman, and he began to chant softly. "Demon of the Other Shore, heed my blood. Descend upon this place and serve me."

"Your name is Terracotta Warrior!"

Power.

Arata desperately needed power.

But it wasn't just power he needed. He needed companions, companions he could trust completely, who would never betray him.

Making a pact with a yokai was the best choice!

In the past, he'd had plenty of reservations. He'd worried that the yokai he summoned might differ from him in their beliefs or habits; that they wouldn't accept him, and that forcing them to lend him their power would create a rift instead of making him much stronger; that having too many different abilities would attract the attention of Root and Anbu.

But now, Arata didn't care.

Shisui's death was the most immediate

Besides, he wasn't someone just anyone could push around anymore!

A murky aura spread through the room. The clashing of weapons rang in his ears, and a towering figure took shape before him. He was like a mountain; simply standing by Arata's side gave him an immense sense of security.

"Did you summon me?"

The Terracotta Warrior gazed at the little one before him and asked.

He had guarded a tomb for a hundred years, and his speech carried the musty air of age.

"Yes. From now on, I'm your new master. Give all your power to me."

Arata answered.

Tears still marked his cheeks, and he was still a child, but his words held an unyielding resolve.

For revenge.

He had to make himself stronger!

After all, a summoning talisman was different from a contract talisman. The former couldn't forge a contract directly. Once the yokai had lent its power, it could choose whether to stay or leave—or even rebel. To make a lasting contract, Arata would have to earn its recognition.

The Terracotta Warrior.

He had once been a funerary figure in a tomb, guarding his master for a hundred years.

But in the end, he had chosen to leave, wanting to give his power to someone who needed it more.

That was why Arata dared to speak to him like this.

Besides, if he couldn't even command a Strange Tale-class yokai, how could he summon anything stronger?

"What do you seek to do with my power?"

The Terracotta Warrior's stiff words were like his armor: heavy and plain.

"To protect."

"To protect my family, my companions, and my clan, so they won't suffer any more harm."

Arata laid out his purpose.

He spoke only of what had once been, saying nothing of the present.

Because the yokai before him existed to protect!

The Terracotta Warrior said nothing.

His deep blue eyes quietly gazed down at the boy who held his ground, sensing the strength of his resolve.

After a moment, he slowly lowered himself until he was kneeling on one knee.

"Master, please use my power."

He pressed his right fist to his chest. His words rang with a weight heavier than any human promise.

At the same time, an armor-shaped mark appeared on the back of Arata's right hand. The contract was sealed!

"Then here is your first order."

"Protect my brother's eyes."

Arata placed Shisui's Sharingan in an unfading vessel, then handed it to the Terracotta Warrior.

"Yes!"

That was his answer.

The scene in his memory came to an abrupt end, and Arata slowly opened his eyes.

"Shisui..."

He called softly, his voice hoarse, stripped of the lightness of a boy's voice.

"I have to go."

"I'll make everyone who forced you to break your promise pay for it!"

"Stay by my side and watch."

Arata had suffered no real punishment for the violent incident he had caused in Konoha's main district.

Perhaps Uncle Yashiro had suppressed it once more, or perhaps the Konoha High Command knew when to ease off. After eliminating Body Flicker Shisui and securing a brief respite, they hadn't continued to press him too hard.

But Arata no longer cared about any of that.

Punishment, blame, exclusion—he would bear whatever they threw at him.

But one day, he would repay it a hundredfold!

For Shisui, too!

After resting for just one day, Arata left the clan compound.

When he returned to the mission hall, none of the staff gave him a hard time this time. He could choose C-rank missions on his own.

It had to be the will of the Konoha High Command.

After all, why not make use of a diligent hand?

The Third Shinobi World War and the Nine-Tails Incident had both cost Konoha a number of outstanding ninja. Add in the need to guard the borders and assign ninja to classified missions, and the village was short on manpower. That left gaps in the lower-ranked missions, and someone had to complete them!

And complete them without fail.

As the foremost of the Five Great Shinobi Villages, Konoha had to project an image of strength.

Arata's presence was tacitly accepted from then on.

It also showed all the Konoha Ninja what madness looked like.

For one year and eight months, he rested after only one mission. At every other return, he went straight to the mission hall. Hunting missions came first, then high-level escort missions, and finally intelligence gathering and guard duty.

The one mission he did rest after had originally been a mere B-rank escort job: escorting a merchant caravan to the Land of Water.

But before departure, he was suddenly assigned an A-rank mission: go to Kirigakure and exchange the documents that would formalize reconciliation between the two sides!

There was no need to say it.

The Konoha High Command wanted to use another power to get him killed!

Otherwise, why not send a more persuasive, more representative ninja to exchange the reconciliation documents?

Everyone knew that in recent years, the only power that kept invading the borders of the Land of Fire, wouldn't leave Konoha alone, and could start a fight at any moment, was Kirigakure!

And now they were suddenly talking about reconciliation. Who would believe that?

But Arata said nothing. He didn't even notify the clan compound. He went straight there.

Because Kirigakure was a power his brother Shisui had once held in check!

He couldn't—wouldn't—bring shame to his brother!

The bloodshed made the name Blood Mist all the more fitting, and the Body Flicker appeared once more on that land!

In a single year, Arata had shed no less blood than an entire Anbu squad.

When the Kirigakure jōnin leading the group fell to his knees before Arata, the remaining Kirigakure Ninja pursuing him were seized by terror. They remembered the man who had possessed the same blood-red eyes and the same Body Flicker!

They remembered the fear of being ruled by Body Flicker Shisui!

Even though the boy before them was already wrapped in blood-soaked clothes, his blade broken, his breathing weak—clearly at the end of his strength—they still hesitated to approach.

At last, when orders from above forced several Kirigakure squads to carry out one final hunt, a succession of maddened figures suddenly shot past Arata. Their crimson eyes blazed with the wildest fury!

The Konoha border, facing Kirigakure, had always been guarded by the Uchiha Clan for generations!

From then on, the name Body Flicker Shisui was no longer spoken along the Kirigakure border.

Because that man was dead.

But another name took its place: Blood Asura Arata.

They said he was Shisui's younger brother.