When walking through a red-light district, the greatest danger does not come from battle-hardened shinobi or cold-blooded samurai, but rather from wealthy, lecherous merchants whose greed is matched only by their cunning. They saw human beings only as commodities to be bought, used, and discarded.
The geisha knew this truth. So did the hawkers, the gamblers, the peddlers who survived these streets. Here, kindness was currency too costly to afford.
So when yet another scene of harassment unfolded in the middle of the street—a daily occurrence here—no one was surprised. People stared, some with pity, others with excitement, many with voyeuristic curiosity, drinking in the spectacle with a hunger of their own.
This time, the unfortunate young maiden possessed a beauty so rare and disarming that it was impossible to look away; simply by standing there, she had become the focus of every eye on the street.
Rei found himself blocked by three staggering drunks, their bloated forms weaving clumsily yet effectively cutting off every escape. His expression was... confusion, almost absurd in its innocence.
Never, in all his life, had he imagined being harassed by men in the middle of the street.
But what simmered beneath his stillness was not fear. It was hunger. Dark, corrosive hunger.
Drunk on cheap liquor, and bold enough to court death. Rei thought as he watched them with detached contempt, his crimson eyes seeing them less as humans and more as meat—meat already spoiled and rotting, yet still good enough to sate a passing appetite.
But to the onlookers, his expression carried another meaning—one they misread entirely.
His curled black hair, cascading like night-born vines; his pale skin glimmering as if carved from fresh snow; the fragile innocence radiating from him—like a spirit escaped from some distant mountain—unwittingly drew forth the vilest desires buried deep in human hearts.
The drunkards' eyes glazed over, swaying on their feet, their heavy bodies teetering but refusing to fall. The thick stench of alcohol made Rei wrinkle his nose and step back.
"Well now," one of them slurred, his bald head glinting under the lanterns, "what's a beauty like you doing out here alone at this hour?"
Amamiya Rei: "..."
The script was predictable. So were their deaths.
The three drunkards clutched their bottles and staggered toward him from different directions, forming a loose triangle to box him in.
The crowd's stares grew bolder, openly expectant, yet no one stepped forward.
Everyone understood the unspoken rule of this era: self-preservation was the key to survival, and rushing to intervene rarely ended well.
The man standing directly in front of Rei reached out with a greasy hand, aiming for Rei's chin, his face plastered with a leering grin thick as lard. Naturally, Rei dodged without effort.
"Ah, Out here selling yourself, huh?" the man sneered. "You're prettier than any courtesan on this street!"
Irritation flashed across his face at having been evaded. This little beauty clearly didn't know how to play along.
Rei's gaze sharpened, a cold glint flickering in his eyes as a violent hunger surged unbidden in his chest.
Every drop of blood in his body boiled, screaming for him to tear them apart — not just these three, but everyone on the street.
"Well, you've got some spirit," another drunken voice jeered. "If you don't want things to get ugly, you'd better come with us quietly!"
Rei sidestepped their filthy hands again, forcibly suppressing the savage craving clawing at him from within.
Drawing in a deep breath, he nodded meekly. He needed a quiet, secluded place to dispose of these trash anyway.
The drunkards exchanged gleeful looks, their eyes shining with triumph. The little beauty had finally come to her senses — clearly, she didn't want to suffer.
Among the spectators, gazes shifted: some pitying, some dismayed, others hungry for the show to continue. One by one, those stares turned away.
Rei followed "obediently" as they led him into a narrow, shadow-drenched alleyway, where moonlight barely reached and the lively sounds of the main street faded into suffocating silence.
Inside the alley, the drunkards rubbed their hands together, drooling with animalistic hunger.
The moon crept along the walls and spilled faint light across Rei's face, making them freeze once more, breath catching at his ethereal beauty.
Their eyes went wide again..
"Worth it," one whispered hoarsely.
"Worth it!" echoed another.
"This is worth dying for!"
"Who goes first?"
"Me!"
"No, me!"
"All of us!"
"..."
While they argued over who would take him first, a crimson tendril slithered silently from beneath the hem of Rei's kimono — a blood-hued whip coiling like a serpent, poised to strike.
But the three men were too drunk, too blind, to notice the danger in the shadows.
Rei looked down at them as though they were hogs squealing in a slaughterhouse pit, oblivious to the trap snapping shut around them.
His shadow blended seamlessly with the darkness of the alley, a monstrous silhouette that promised death.
The blood whip moved as an extension of Rei's will — a skill carved into his very bones, unlike the Wood Release or his sensory techniques, which required deliberate practice. From the moment he had awakened this ability, it had been his to command effortlessly.
The whip trembled once, then retracted back beneath the folds of Rei's garment.
His sensory ability had improved greatly — enough for him to detect a figure rapidly approaching the alley.
A shinobi.
And not a weak one.
In an instant, Rei assessed the situation and felt a flicker of excitement in his scarlet eyes.
So the dramas hadn't lied to him after all.
The "Hero rescues the beauty" trope had just arrived on cue.
His gaze softened, and an expression of fragile sorrow crossed his face, perfecting the illusion of vulnerability.
As the three drunkards reached for him again, time seemed to slow. A flash of silver cut across his vision — and then, suddenly, an arm circled his waist.
A strong hand gripped him firmly, lifting him with effortless strength and pulling him out of reach.
Three dull thuds echoed as the drunkards hit the ground, unconscious or dead.
Rei's view was blocked by the newcomer — a young shinobi standing tall between him and danger.
Under the full moon, Rei's gem-like eyes reflected the youth's features in perfect detail.
The boy was slightly taller than Rei, his frame lean yet defined, every muscle honed and taut beneath the simple garb of a shinobi.
His pale face was striking, framed by sharp, upturned eyes that gleamed like blades.
Those eyes — phoenix-shaped, intense — were impossible to mistake.
As their gazes met, the boy flinched slightly, releasing Rei's waist as if burned. A faint blush crept across the tips of his ears.
"..."
Rei's mouth twitched imperceptibly.
He had been holding him so confidently a moment ago — why pretend otherwise now?
They were both men; Rei knew exactly what went through his rescuer's mind.
Licking his lips, he swallowed reflexively, his gaze never wavering from the boy's face.
Those unmistakable eyes alone were enough for Rei to recognize him.
— Uchiha Shisui.
One thought seized Rei's mind.
— He wanted to eat him.
Shisui was a prodigy of the Uchiha clan.
There was no doubt his flesh would be of the highest quality — a rare delicacy.
Rei could only imagine how divine it would taste.
But genius or not, Shisui was still a shinobi — cautious, sharp, impossible to fool easily. Rei would have to bide his time.
And besides... Rei wondered curiously: if he devoured Uchiha flesh, would he gain the Sharingan?
His hunger burned hotter.
But patience—patience was key.
"Thank you..." Rei murmured softly, lowering his head. Strands of black hair fell forward, framing his cheeks and lending him an air of delicate vulnerability under the moonlight. His shoulders trembled faintly, like a frightened animal seeking shelter.
Shisui, who had never in his life seen a girl so breathtaking, felt his throat tighten. At a loss for what to do, he shook his head awkwardly. "It's nothing. I just happened to be passing by."
Rei's gaze drifted to the three corpses cooling on the ground behind him. "..."
Passing by?
Since when had the Uchiha been known for heroic deeds?
Shisui tore his eyes away with effort and muttered, "You should go home. It isn't safe to wander around so late."
Ordinary citizens might be safe, but this girl — this perfect bait — was anything but. Incidents like this would keep happening if she stayed.
Rei's mind raced, spinning a quick, plausible story. He bit his lip, letting melancholy seep into his voice. "This is my first time leaving home... I just wanted to see the world. I didn't expect..." Tears shimmered at the corners of his eyes, threatening but refusing to fall. "I understand. I'll go back. Thank you..."
First time away from home?
Shisui hesitated, watching those unshed tears tremble. His fingers curled unconsciously before he blurted, "If you don't mind... I can walk with you for a while. Keep you safe."
The moment the words left his mouth, regret flared. He was on a mission — tomorrow he needed to continue traveling, tonight he had to find an inn to rest.
"Really?" Rei's voice trembled with just the right note of wonder. He clutched Shisui's sleeve, eyes shining with joy.
The brief flicker of regret in Shisui's heart dissolved into something softer, swept away by the night breeze.
"...Mn." He nodded.
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