Yongye ignored the murmurs.
His gaze settled above Rasa's body and stopped in midair.
He saw two Soul-Locking Imps crouched on Rasa's chest and shoulder. Each was a little bigger than a palm, with blue-gray skin and features crammed together. Their claws hooked into Rasa's collar as they tilted their heads and stared at him through hollow eye sockets.
I really can see them! Next time, I'm cutting down the God of Death!
Yongye smiled faintly. He turned his wrist, pointed the blade down, and swung—to slay the imps!
Tenseiga's blade sliced through the air without a sound.
To everyone else, he had merely slashed at empty air. There was nothing where his blade fell, and it did not stir so much as a breeze.
But the instant the blade touched the two Soul-Locking Imps, they let out short, shrill cries and were both cut in two!
Then they vanished completely!
Not a trace of blood marked Tenseiga's blade. It remained as white as a sliver of moonlight.
Yongye sheathed the sword. Its plain white scabbard gleamed softly in the afternoon sun, like a piece of jade freshly lifted from deep water.
The people nearby were still whispering in confusion.
"What exactly is he cutting?"
"No idea. I didn't see anything."
"Maybe it's... some kind of ritual?"
"What kind of ritual involves cutting the air?"
Then someone gave the first startled shout.
"Wait! Look at the Fourth Kazekage!"
Every gaze snapped back to Rasa.
At the stitched cut on the side of Rasa's neck, color was slowly returning to his skin.
The bruising along the stitches went from dark purple to pale purple, then faded to light red. That red spread upward along his neck until it filled his entire face.
His eyelids twitched once, then again, before slowly opening.