Bonus for 600 PS.
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The enemies who had been so arrogant moments ago didn't even have time to scream before they were reduced to steaming piles of meat on the ground.
Ryo didn't even bother to lift his eyelids.
Those strange, silver eyes of his cut through the choking stench of blood, locking onto the sack lying a few meters away in the dirt.
From its opening, a pair of blue eyes peeked out, filled with pure terror, already spilling over with tears.
Step. Step. Step.
Ryo's boots pressed into the bloody, muddy ground with a sound like a death drum.
With the unconscious Mikoto still in his arms, he advanced on the sack.
Murderous intent poured off him, swirling like a storm of black mist.
Carefully, he laid the black-haired girl down on a patch of relatively clean earth.
Then,
He bent down.
That dusty but powerful hand of his ripped through the coarse rope binding the sack with a single brutal tug.
Moonlight and the reek of blood flooded inside.
The girl with the fiery red hair, Kushina, was tied up so tightly she looked like a bundled scroll.
Her slender wrists were raw, seeping blood. That unmistakable golden-red hair framed her terrified face.
Those sapphire eyes, which should have been bright and clear, were wide and trembling, staring at the boy who had broken her heart moments ago, only to reappear like a blood-soaked god of war torn from hell.
Shame, fear, rage, grievance, everything exploded inside her at once.
Her pink lips parted, and tears burst like floodwaters.
"Waaaahhhhhh!"
Hot tears splattered into the dirt as her hopeless cries ripped through the night.
Did Ryo comfort her? Say, "It's okay"?
Not a chance. Not a single useless word.
Instead, one hand clamped down on her trembling shoulder.
The other slid beneath her knees.
And then, a princess carry.
Simple, direct, domineering. The act of someone who refused to be denied.
"Uwahhhh!"
Kushina's world spun. Suddenly, she was pressed into the reeking, bloodstained chest of Ryo.
"Waaaaahhhhhh!"
Fear, shock, despair, anger, her emotions, already at their limit, broke apart completely.
She screamed and sobbed like a shrimp dropped into boiling water, thrashing and kicking in his arms.
Her small fists rained down like hail on his chest, her cries ragged.
"Let me go! I don't need you to hold me! Idiot! I don't care! Didn't you say you didn't care?! You hate me! You hate me! Get away from me! I don't need your fake concern! It hurts! Put me down!"
Her struggles pulled against her raw wrists, pain lancing through her body.
Beside them, Mikoto stirred awake at the noise, blinking in confusion.
The sight before her stole her breath.
Ryo's profile, cold and sharp as forged steel, streaked with drying blood. Moonlight crowned him in a terrible, imperious light.
He held Kushina as if she were nothing, letting her fists beat against him without flinching. His stance was immovable, like a mountain.
The slaughter just moments ago, the way he now carried her as if no one could defy him, it all came as naturally as breathing.
His brow didn't twitch. Not once.
Kushina flailed in his arms.
But his arm tightened, pulling her fragile body hard into his chest.
His voice, deep and steady, left no room for refusal.
"Don't move."
The sound froze her.
Her cries choked to silence, replaced by trembling hiccups, like a kitten too tired to keep mewling.
She looked up, her face streaked with tears and dirt, dazed and helpless.
Ryo stared back, silver eyes burning with fire, his words thundering into Kushina, into Mikoto, into even the hidden watcher in the shadows.
"Who the hell said I don't like you?"
His eyes locked onto her, flames roaring within their depths.
Then his lips curved faintly, arrogantly, his voice a proclamation of ownership.
"Because, you're mine."
A deliberate pause, his tone heavy as steel.
"My little tomato. My one and only little tomato."
Before she could even breathe,
Ryo lowered his head.
A kiss.
Firm and cold.
His lips pressed against her forehead, leaving an indelible mark. A brand.
Kushina froze.
Her cries, her rage, her despair, all of it detonated, not dissolved.
Not melting, but exploding.
Like a volcano, like a tidal wave that smashed her heart into pieces.
"R, Ryo!"
Her dam broke.
Every ounce of emotion, every fragile pretense, collapsed in that instant.
Her arms, weak and trembling, shot up to cling around his neck.
She buried her face into the crook of his neck, sobbing into the blood and warmth that felt safer than the sun itself.
"I, I was so scared! I thought they'd take me! I thought I'd never come back! I thought I'd never see you again!"
Her tears drenched his chest, burning against his skin.
"I thought you hated me, thought you'd left me," she whimpered, spilling her deepest fear.
Every tear pierced Ryo's soul sharper than any blade.
Her trembling body, fragile as a leaf in the wind, twisted something deep inside him.
It hurt worse than Tsunade's punches.
He tightened his embrace, pressing his chin gently against her blood-scented hair.
"…It's over." His voice was low, steady. "I'm here."
Those words.
They shattered every defense Kushina had left.
She didn't need to pretend anymore.
She cried freely, desperately, clinging to him as if she would sink without him.
Mikoto could only watch in silence, her eyes wide, as the red-haired girl wept herself into Ryo's chest.
And in the shadows,
A golden-haired figure had arrived, following the trail of fallen strands of red hair.
Namikaze Minato.
His eyes widened as the scene scorched itself into his vision, Ryo, fierce and unyielding, holding Kushina as if she were his world.
Her struggles collapsing into sobs. His kiss on her brow, branding her as his. Her arms clutching him, burying herself into him.
Minato's heart clenched with an agony so sharp it felt like claws crushing his chest.
But his eyes never looked away.
Step by step, his hands loosened.
Moonlight revealed his bitter smile.
As long as she's safe, as long as she's happy.
And he stepped back, fading into the night.
This stage was no longer his.
The black tide of Konoha's reinforcements surged in.
At the front, Uzumaki Mito's sharp eyes fell upon the two figures at the center.
Her wrinkled face bloomed into a radiant smile, girlish and triumphant.
Behind her, Hiruzen strode in, his white Hokage robes heavy, his face grim.
But what he saw froze him.
Three mangled corpses. Clean cuts like mirror glass.
Ryo turned at last, Kushina still in his arms. His silver eyes were colder than death itself.
Hiruzen's breath caught. A chill crawled down his spine.
Even the hardened Hokage felt the threat of invisible blades at his throat.
The Konoha shinobi behind him stiffened, their blood running cold.
This boy had shed the last of his disguise.
No longer human. Something else.
Only Mito smiled brighter, her gaze proud, almost gleeful.
Ryo's eyes flicked to her for a heartbeat, a faint nod.
Then his attention returned entirely to the girl in his arms.
The rest of the world, Hiruzen, the elders, the army, were nothing but rubble at the roadside.
He cared only for her.
Kushina, asleep now, her face streaked with tears, buried against him in exhausted trust.
Hiruzen swallowed, forcing composure.
"Ryo, any survivors?" His voice was rough, but firm.
"None." Ryo's tone was flat, final. "All dead."
Like he had swatted flies.
Hiruzen's face twitched, unease surging.
But he suppressed it, barking orders.
"ANBU will handle the scene. Ryo, Kushina, Mikoto, you three return to the village for treatment."
Ryo ignored the Hokage's eyes.
He adjusted his hold on Kushina carefully, lifting her with deliberate strength.
"Mikoto." His voice was cold, but a faint gentleness lingered. "Follow me."
Like waking from a dream, Mikoto rushed to his side, following close behind.
Together, the three walked through the silent forest.
And when they passed the shadow where Minato had stood, Ryo's gaze swept casually over it.
Moonlight spilled silver across the road ahead.
Konoha's towering gates loomed against the night, shadows like giants.
Ryo walked forward, steady and unyielding, Kushina safe in his arms.
Mikoto followed close, her steps quick.
The moonlight touched the girl's face in his arms, pale, tear-streaked, but peaceful at last, cradled in the embrace she had longed for.
(To be continued.)