Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Arrival

"Shinobi..."

"The elite agents of Japan who carried out their missions, both honorable and nefarious, within shadows. All of them were trained and specialized in the art of weapons, old and new, with the strength of each individual rivaling that of over a thousand common soldiers."

"For the better part of a millennium, their tactics and weapons were the pinnacle of advanced warfare. Beyond that, their variety of skills outclassed any military in the world by training by what was most intuitive to an individual."

"But modern technology and society advanced exponentially, far faster than any centuries old organization could ever anticipate."

"As the distance between countries and people dissipated, the shadows began to recede in the face of new technologies' blinding light. There was a belief that the use of shinobi, good and evil, would be redundant within a few decades' time."

"Even more distressing for the shinobi leadership, as news of the world's happenings spread, the moral lines and codes that defined good and evil began to blur. Factions split apart and fell to disorder as the next generation's culture combated the cemented ways of the old."

"Still, the way of the shinobi lived on. Despite how far the world had come, they endured and would dutifully remain on standby as the next generation of warriors trained to fight amongst and against each other. Just as it always had been."

"But a long-guarded secret was rapidly growing in scale and its dangers would be profound."

"As the blood of Yōma drenched the earth, its corruption slipped into the minds and hearts of the shinobi who carried on living. Without even being aware of it, the shinobi would become ticking timebombs who would submit over an unpredictable period of time."

"Their emotions became distorted and prone to extremes through the power of corruption and their consciousness would slip. Eventually, the person they once were would be gone, replaced by a husk who would never realize they were victimized in the first place. If nothing were to be done, certainly the way of the shinobi would have died out early into the twentieth century, when war was rampant and Yōma were widespread across the battlefield."

"But this was when two groups of individuals stepped into their secret world... Infiltrators and Dignitaries."

"With the tools of modern day and supernatural ability, both of these groups had long kept the Yōma's influence from growing beyond control."

"Though the two groups' philosophies and means differed, leading to a longstanding blood feud between the two which carried on from parents to children, their skills and presence have long been acknowledged by the shinobi higherups and all of their factions... though not for the better."

"The dignitaries, an organization bent on utilizing the corruption and bending it to instill order into the minds of shinobi, relied on a forceful ritual which altered the very fiber of an individual's mind and personality. Such an act was regarded as a heinous and hypocritical crime that warranted death."

"The infiltrators, a group lacking formal structure, relied on rogue elements and mystically personal rituals that expelled the corruption in its entirety. But, due to both aimless paranoia and acts that justified wariness, they were condemned as a lingering threat and hunted from cell to cell."

"Still, despite such poor reputations, their work continued."

"Nearly eighty years after the first confirmed report of an infiltrator having apparently rejuvenated the mind of a young shinobi, a young man was forced to leave the place he called home in order to fulfill a deal."

"The letter that identified him by name and status as an infiltrator came from an influential shinobi. In exchange for his services, he would be granted safety and not be revealed to the shinobi underground. Beyond all of that, he would also be granted a pardon and freedom from the life he detested."

"In order to fulfill his end of the bargain, the young man was given a single series of tasks..."

"He was to prevent the growing corruption within those who were beloved and close to the influential shinobi. A task that would be extremely difficult for even the best among the infiltrators."

"Still, even when suffering the consequences of a spiteful choice, the young man pressed on."

This tale follows your stand-in.

For convenience, he shall be referred to as the young man, but know that he carries your name at heart.

Your stand-in's physical details, while left as ambiguous as possible, may not follow with complete accuracy.

This tale is one of both romance and action. Neither one is rushed and each bit is made as meaningful as possible. This also means that the romance and action you seek will be slow, almost painfully at times, to come.

There will be moments that may be explicit for readers who are under the age of eighteen. These will include moments both disturbing and sexual in nature. Be advised that the nature of this fiction is intended for adults above the age of eighteen only.

If you would both enjoy and look forward to the tale described above, then please take your place inside the shoes of the young man.

April 4 – "The first steps of a journey are either the least or most passionate."

Almost spitting out a mouthful of food, Homura lifted her head in alarm and asked, "Everyone at Gessen is actually attacking Hebijo!?"

Sitting across the table within her grandfather's restaurant, Asuka meekly nodded her head before she swallowed her last bite and let out a depressed sigh. She was going to take another bite of her futomaki roll but then, when considering the circumstances at hand, dropped it onto her plate. After a moment, she crossed her arms and leaned onto the table to murmur, "All over some insult too..."

"If you could call it that," remarked Homura as she dug back in, feeling both confused and agitated, "Miyabi and her were just going into their usual 'good versus evil' banter... however meanspirited it got at times..." After a moment, she slammed her food back onto the plate and gave the table a thump with her knee, "To call a royale over it? That's stupid."

Leaning onto her hand, Asuka stated, "I called Yozakura earlier to try and see what was happening and if she could talk Yumi out of it," before straightening herself and shaking her head, "but... apparently they're already marching to Hebijo right now and there's no going back." The brunette let out a depressed sigh and murmured, "It's kind of sad too. I mean, tomorrow is Yozakura's birthday and they'll probably be all sore from the fighting..."

Homura grumbled something incoherent and then asked, "Well, as tempted as I am to go over there and straighten everything out... I say it'll be fine, so long as they don't wind up killing each other."

"They seemed pretty serious about it though," said Asuka, her voice cracking slightly with nervousness, "Shouldn't we call everyone else and try to intervene?"

"Don't get me wrong," said Homura as she raised and waggled a finger, "we could go over there and hand everyone their asses on a silver platter," before she shrugged and said, "But that means they'll just fight another day and they likely won't talk with us about it then... plus, I'm eating."

"Homura-," whined Asuka, balling up her fists waving them in the air.

"Don't 'Homura~' me," sneered the tanned girl, "Why should I have to cut off my meal because two ladies are throwing hissy fits at one another?"

Standing down quickly in the face of her friend's frustration, Asuka let out a displeased groan before calmly stating, "You know that, if we went there, it'd turn into a fight... right?"

"Yeah," grumbled Homura, "One that'd we'd quickly win and be over with. Why?"

Asuka gave a shrug, "I dunno," before turning her eyes away, "I just can't recall the last time you turned down a fight, spar or no."

"I'm hungry right now and you offered me food," returned Homura, "Now, are we going to be spending our whole time talking about this?"

Even when her friend was acting out of character, Asuka still surrendered and shook her head, "No, no...! Ah... Hibari... got a new video game..."

"There, new topic found. Tell me about it," ordered Homura.

Listening in on the conversation from the counter, Hanzō stared without any visible intent on being a snoop. Yet, in the back of his mind, he was thinking about the arising circumstances and wondered if anything could be done before Yumi and Miyabi's fight brought drastic consequences. In addition to that, he was also silently remarking to himself about the slight changes in Asuka and Homura's behavior, with one being quicker to submit while the other maintained a more self-centered persona.

For the night, nothing would be able to put Hanzō's mind at ease. Even when considering the solution that he and his wife, Sayuri, had put into place, he was still nervous and barely keeping himself from being fretful. But, considering the choices that were made which led to that point, he knew it would be a foolish thing to call off any action. No, he just had to pray for the best and hope that the solution wouldn't get hit by a car on the way to his destination.

At around the same time of day, a young man was staring blankly as several different vehicles rolled by in front of him on the busy city street in front of the train station, backed up by a jam at the next intersection. The boy, having not been in an urban environment for several years, took a breath and made a small noise of discontent, "Mm..." before giving his head a shake, hoisting a duffle bag over his shoulder, and then turning to walk down the sidewalk. While there were several taxi options available in front of the station, he opted to instead seek one out on a side street that wouldn't be as gridlocked. Plus, even if he was wrong on his assumption that there were other options available, he wanted to stretch his legs after the lengthy journey from the place he called home.

Just as the young man turned the street corner, he accidentally bumped his shoulder into a passerby and immediately turned around to state in a straight tone, "My mistake. Sorry." The stranger he bumped into nodded and turned to walk away after patting at their pockets. Reaching up to his face, the young man found that he'd also accidentally knocked his brimmed glasses loose. He stepped off to the side and pulled them off to turn them over, debating with himself on whether or not he should tuck them safely away or continue to wear them as always. It wasn't as though they were needed at all, when it came to walking around casually at least, and it would keep the risk down from any further accidents. Yet, the spectacles were an essential tool for the times to come... plus he liked them. So, if only to keep himself happy, he put them back on and kept walking his way.

After all, in the back of his mind, the young man was already throwing a silent rage fit against the world and he felt that comfort and familiarity weren't too much to ask for. He walked in a simple manner, ignoring the honking cars and the rhythmic sounds of everyone's footsteps. At the same time, the young man was also seeing the faces of arrogant fools and hearing their taunting words in the back of his head.

"He's our brother. It's our duty to help when he's in trouble."

"You know I'm owed this."

The young man let out a frustrated groan as he turned onto a side street and eyed around for a taxi. Much to his pleasant surprise, his prediction came true in the form of a short and wide man crushing a cigarette and muttering silently as he was moving toward a parked yellow cab. Acting quickly before anyone else could get the same idea, the young man called, "Are you working?"

Doing his best to throw away the disgruntled sneer he had, the cabbie put on his best professional smile and said in a voice with forceful courtesy, "Yessir. Just got off break." He pointed his thumb, "Get in and use the computer in the back to pick your destination."

Having never heard of a taxi using computers in such a way, the young man's internal frustration fell away to curiosity as he walked toward the vehicle. He gave the cabbie a pleasant nod, threw his duffle bag inside, hopped into the backseat, and found that there was a small computer situated between the driver and front passenger's seat, true to the man's word. Clicking his tongue with interest, the young man pulled out his phone to find the address of his new residence and then tapped it into the computer. The young man was also surprised to see that the computer was also outfitted to take cash, with the flashing green light and all. After getting resituated, the cabbie called back, "Alright. GPS says about twenty to thirty minutes. We'll get you there."

The young man meant to offer some kind of thanks to his driver but, when he saw that he had a text notification, only offered a meek grunt. After a few taps, he opened the message and read, "I'll be waiting outside. Try not to take too long," followed by a smiley face with a wink.

The young man's most immediate instinct was to text back, "Piss off," but, knowing that diplomacy called for a degree of professionalism, instead sent, "I'll be there soon. Cab driver said it will be about half an hour," while feeling like a pushover.

Deciding to not feel sorry for himself, the young man opted to concoct some kind of plan as he watched the city buildings fly by. He wouldn't have much unpacking to do and, ideally, the residence he'd be staying at wouldn't be needing much cleaning beyond a simple washing of the bedsheets. After that, there'd be plenty of time in the day to meet with his contacts and learn the current lay of the land. If nothing else, he could potentially get straight to work and try to achieve the task he was given as soon as possible... Yet, when the young man considered the idea of rapidly trying to finish everything off, he knew it would be impossible.

For a single case of what he was dealing with, there was an absolute two day minimum: one day to set up his opponent, if he was extremely quick and flawless in doing so, and another to act on the attack. Beyond that, there was also other questions. Did his target have a residence and security, were they generally a closed or combative person, and did they have others looking out for them? All of that could lengthen his job by several weeks, depending on how careful he wanted to be. Throw in the fact that he had not one, not two, but a whopping total of twenty cases to deal with... No, the young man would be going through his painstaking trial for months.

Taking his mind off the straining details and giving his forehead a rub from the slight stress headache that he was developing, the boy turned his attention outside of the taxi window to try and enjoy the scenery. The sight that was beheld was a small group of college students aimlessly playing their instruments on the corner of an intersection. One of them, in particular, proceeded to get extremely obnoxious and even approached random people as they were walking while swinging around his hip and the guitar that he was playing, almost striking a poor child in the head as he did so. Then, just as the student began to headbang his long shoulder-length hair around and about, he accidentally plunged the guitar head into the stomach of an approaching police officer. Unfortunately for the young man, the taxi began to drive through the intersection just as all of the college students froze in the face of the officer's furious glare. Yet, despite the fact that he didn't get to see how it ended, the boy was still pleased by the amusing sight and settled comfortably into his seat.

After that, there were no further incidents along the journey. The city buildings passed by through the young man's view of the windows and they gradually began to shrink in size. In minutes' time, he was riding through a small suburb where the large billboards were traded out for pleasant signs on the front of local businesses. There were a few compact but comfortable looking apartment buildings, some off-brand grocery stores and produce stalls, all along with several restaurants and food trucks that beheld a great variety of dishes that had the young man salivating. The only thing that put a damper on his mood was the rough shape that his savings were in.

Without warning, the taxi cab came to a sudden halt and the driver quickly stated, "We have arrived. Please choose your payment method on the computer." After collecting himself from his daydreams, the young man tapped his finger against the screen, produced cash from his wallet, and inserted it into the machine. Wondering if he'd be getting his change back, he eyed the devices warily as they hummed and processed the transaction before straightening himself in surprise at it spat out some coins into a cup and printed out his receipt. Thus, the boy stepped from the vehicle with his bag and the driver offered a wave of courtesy before driving off. Gracious for the quick journey, the young man found himself eager to turn and see his residence for the first time.

The pleased look on his face quickly fell away as he was greeted by the sight of a two-floor apartment building that was in dire need of a cleanup. Beyond the ugly appearance of the unclean brick and rusting railings along the stairs to the second floor, there was debris strewn about everywhere. A few large tires that the boy could fit himself into were leaning against the far wall, wooden planks were broken and strewn about, and he was almost positive that there were rusted nails lying in wait to infect him with life-threatening infections.

Just as the young man wondered about what had caused such a decay in the location, he was surprised by a woman's voice from behind, "Welcome to your home away from home." With only a slight jump and low noise from his throat, the young man turned around and found a busty woman with long dark brown hair staring him down with a showy smile on her face. While he was still processing her greeting, she pulled out a smoking pipe from one of her pockets and asked, "It's nice to be meeting you in person."

The young man stared with an unreadable look before nodding his head, "You're the shinobi I'm meeting?"

Raising a finger to her lips, the woman quickly said, "Landlady is the term that I prefer when we're out in public." After making sure that they were alone she then nodded her head, "Otherwise, yes. I am the person you're looking for," before taking a drag of her pipe, blowing smoke into the air, and waving a hand, "Come. Your room is this way."

The young man followed silently, trying to put his mind off on how the two came into contact in the first place. Then, after putting his focus back onto the state of the apartment building, he then asked, "A bit of cleaning would be in order, don't you think?"

"In order to fit the budget that your grandfather recommended, I had to make some exceptions when choosing your residence," explained the woman in a nonchalant tone, "I actually had to take some money from your parents to afford the place in full... but we got it and it's your home for the time being."

"You still couldn't have done a bit of cleaning?" remarked the young man as a bit of heat found its way into his tone.

"I just barely got the deed to it a couple of weeks ago," came the woman's defensive voice with a bit of evident irritation to the way she hunched her head down as she walked, "Throw in the fact that I've been busy keeping a bunch of girls from killing each other..." before she paused and stated in a more straightforward voice as she began to ascend the stairs to the second floor balconies, "I haven't had time."

"I see," said the young man as he turned his head to the buildings around the apartment, which were all much more warm and cozy-looking. In the meantime, he mindlessly trailed behind the woman until she came to a sudden stop. Barely keeping himself from bumping into her, the boy jumped back and watched as she sheepishly gestured to the door and offered a key. Suspicious of what awaited on the inside, the young man took it with narrowed eyes and unlocked his way into the residence. Upon stepping inside, his expression remained unchanged as he looked at all of the dusty surroundings with the occasional bit of debris and trash. It was a single room with a dirty futon on one side and a fridge on the other. There was a single door next to the entrance that led into the bathroom, a place the young man was deeply afraid of investigating. With his look remaining unchanged, he turned back to Jasmine and waved both of his arms into the room in a way that silently conveyed the words, "What is this...!?"

In response, Jasmine simply turned away to take another drag from her pipe, awkwardly blew out the smoke, and said, "Well, it's about noon... so I'll be... doing my secret shinobi-, landlady business somewhere else... I, you know, have to arrange for your stove and stuff to be installed tomorrow so..." before giving an upbeat wave, "Cleaning supplies should be in the corner right of the door," and turned away to retreat.

With narrowed eyes that did little justice to the frustration that he was penning up inside, the young man took an awkward step into the apartment and dropped his bag to the floor and proceeded to rummage through it for the three essentials that he would need for the next few hours that would follow. A few seconds after, he'd donned a cleaning hat and mask along with a small speaker system. He approached the counter on the side and plugged the device into an outlet, slightly wincing in anticipation of sparks as he did so. Then, once he was sure that nothing would catch fire, he pulled out his phone and connected it onto the speaker's port. While the two devices were connecting, he approached the cleaning supplies in the corner and quickly found a box of latex gloves. After a crack of his knuckles, he pulled a pair on and grabbed a duster. Once the phone was ready, he approached the speaker again with bold and empowered steps as he braced to meet the grand task before him in battle.

After pushing a few buttons, smooth jazz began to play and the young man swiveled his body back and forth in rhythm as he proceeded to dust the ceiling. He brushed across the corners of the counter and hummed idly along, trying to take his mind off of all the issues that were plaguing him at that moment. Soon, he moved his way over to the single window on the far end of the room and went through its corners as he mumbled a gibberish to the singer's words, "I'm-a shaysiffer... Mm Poe's massermm... Something about changing minds... Hu-nada-nadi-da... Duh-nah..."

Some time passed and the ceiling no longer had the detestable black spots of dust across its surface. After silently thanking the heavens for the fact that there wasn't any sign of mold, the young man turned his attention to the bathroom and wondered if it would need the same treatment. Much to his pleasant surprise, it required only a slight bit of scrubbing and would be in passable shape. Thus, after producing a cleaning spray from the supplies, the young man was about to strut into the bathroom before the playlist he selected found a German polka tune. So, rather than the smooth and powerful approach that he was initially planning, the boy instead did a cheery shuffle through the room. As he sprayed and wiped across all of the surrounding surfaces with an abrasive sponge, he couldn't help but keep his legs from constantly bouncing along with the accordion's quickening tempo. Eventually, the tune would also carry him across the rest of the walls of the apartment as he switched between cleaning products. Even if the young man found nothing of interest in cleaning by itself, the music eventually allowed him to have a bit of fun.

In due time the tunes switched over to a series of Hispanic pop songs and the mindless joy really began. Even though he didn't really have time to translate the words in his head, the boy still thoroughly enjoyed singing along with great intensity as he pulled up his futon and proceeded to beat the dust off of it next to the window. With a click of his ankles and wrists, he practically threw the futon back toward its end of the room and then walked with wiggling hips as he made his way over to the broom and dust pan to clean all of the remaining residue.

Once he was finished, the playlist turned into an American metal band and the boy was rapidly bobbing his body up and down with the beat, repeatedly needing to readjust his glasses, as he tried to calmly replace each light bulb and checked every outlet across the apartment. After he was done with that, he simply began to give the area a final run down by collecting all of the remaining trash into tight black bags, still jerking up and down on his knees to the rhythm. He inspected the floor and noted that he would need to give it a mopping at some point to remove a few suspicious stains, though that could wait for a different day. Otherwise, everything seemed to be in place. Thus, seeking to reward himself, the young man proceeded to rapidly conga in rhythm with the still intense music on his way to the duffle bag in the corner.

It was only when he saw that the woman had entered the room at some point that he froze like a deer in headlights and stared with wide eyes. The expression on her face was unreadable at first before she snorted and turned away, "I didn't mean to interrupt your one-man powwow. Don't mind me."

Sucking in the corners of his mouth, the young man quickly asked, "How long were you there?"

"Long enough," came the snarky reply before the woman clapped her hands, "You can get back to it in a moment. I just thought I'd give you a few relevant addresses." The young man remained silent as she pulled a small card out from a pocket. When it was offered to him, he slowly and cautiously took it and raised it to his eyes. As he read through, the woman explained, "It's a listing of the three academies that some of the girls attend. The bottom line is the directions to get to a cave where the other five are." When the young man gave a grunt of acknowledgement, the woman was unsure of what else to say. Though they hadn't spoken in person before, there was still plenty of reason for the boy to hate her. So, with the intention of keeping the mood light, she decided to comment in a nonchalant voice, "Well, I'm gracious that you came to help when you did. Take a few days, get some R and R... then, you know, feel free to start saving lives whenever you have time."

Not taking anything that she said lightly, the young man turned his eyes up to her and glared. There was plenty of things that had brought him immense anger that day, from his family to the fact that he would be living in an apartment which had a very definite cleanliness problem. But, in that one moment, he was absolute furious that she could take something so dangerously serious to him and try to make light of it. Never mind the lack of relaxation that he'd be having for as long as he was in the city, the young man had never once chosen to take part in helping anyone. To him, the woman's words were like a tone-deaf warden earnestly thanking a prisoner for being in jail for the time being while holding a gun to their head.

In the heat of a sudden idea popping into his head, the young man grumbled, "Would you get out? I have to change."

One of the woman's brows went up, "Oh? Are you getting ready for bed? The sun still hasn't completely set."

Realizing that he'd been cleaning the apartment for several hours at that point, the young man huffed indignantly and said more aggressively, "And I'm going for a walk! Get out!"

Not one to be ordered around easily, the woman was about to shoot words right back at the boy before stopping herself. After remembering his circumstances and figuring that he was just blowing off steam, she raised her hands into the air, "Alright, alright..." before turning away, "I'll see you off once you're outside," and walking out the door.

Still frustrated by her demeanor, the young man forced a breath of air into himself before grumbling and cursing quietly. For a few seconds, his fists shook and his teeth grinded together. Then he paused and tried to take a breath. Suddenly, without further warning, he viciously kicked his foot at the wall with a yell, leaving behind a slight dent. When that didn't alleviate his anger, he clenched his teeth even more and let out a choked scream of rage from his mouth until he was completely out of breath. Once it was all vented out of him, he crouched down to the floor and wheezed in some air. Then, without much thought, he proceeded to undress himself and walked toward his duffle bag for a new change of clothes.

By the time the boy emerged from the apartment, he was dressed in tight-fitting pants and a shirt that mostly clung onto his chest, both of which were black in color. Wrapped around his neck was a simple scarf that was set to fold and cover his face, save for the eyes. Upon finding the woman right outside the door, smoking on her pipe with a relaxed expression, he quickly told her, "I'm going for my walk. Don't wait up for me."

Not thinking about why the boy was dressed in such a way at first, she began to reply, "Alright, have a good-," before her expression fell away and she asked, "Hold up, hold up. Where are you going dressed like that?"

Keeping his face turned away, the young man began to walk past her toward the stares, "I don't need to explain my fashion sense to you," as he straightened his glasses.

He was stopped when the woman gripped his shoulder and asked, "Oi, I gave you those addresses as a gesture of good faith. Don't even think about trying to do whatever you're planning to do."

You are reading story Heart of The Infiltrators at novel35.com

After a moment of consideration, the boy pulled away and loudly stated, "I am taking a walk and seeing the sights!" before putting up a finger, "At most, I'll go and find my entrance and exit routes! Your concern is appreciated but unneeded!"

The woman very badly wanted to try and talk the boy down. But, when remembering her husband's urging to be patient with the boy's unavoidable anger, she ultimately decided to offer some trust and released him. Once the young man began to walk away, she called after him, "Just don't be stupid."

In response, he only bit his teeth together to try calm himself from the perceived jab as he disappeared down the stairs. In the meantime, the woman went back to smoking her pipe and began to contemplate the situation at hand. Yet, in the end, the result was the same as the many previous times she'd done so: as long as the girls were treated, she didn't care what would happen.

By the time the sun had finally set over the horizon, the young man found himself very near one of the addresses the woman had given him. He'd already seen the other two, those being the Hanzō and Gessen Academies, online but he knew absolutely nothing about the one which was buried a short way into a forest near the city's border. Where the other two had classes that were available to the average citizen, the latter was strictly meant to be a fortress for training shinobi.

Gazing at a small opening between the trees just outside the forest, the young man considered the prospect of actively investigating possible entrances and exits for any further actions down the road. He was already cooled off and wasn't lingering too much on the woman's words by that point anyway... Yet, there was still a frustrated part within him.

In the dark fog,

Long-reached shadows,

Of morals gray,

Found themselves lost...

By the logic that was nagging his head, he was looking at what would probably be the most difficult academy to deal with and, ergo, the one that would most likely kill him. While the angel on his shoulder told him to do what good that could be done with the other academies before embarking on such a journey, the devil was demanding decisive action that would throw caution to the wind. Being more pragmatic at heart, the young man considered the situation for a short few seconds before already coming to a choice. He nodded to himself and began to trek into the forest, unsure of what he was really planning to do.

Then, like a violin,

Blessed by a meager swan,

A gentle voice sang out,

And pled for their freedoms.

In the young man's mind, it would absolutely suck to put in so much effort only to be killed at the most difficult location. After all, aside from being dead, it would mean that the shinobi who had blackmailed him into coming would mostly get their way. When remembering his circumstances and how close he was to avoiding it all, the young man let out a frustrated growl and took off into a run. He did not think for a single moment that it would be fair for the two bastards that brought him there to get most of what they wanted while he was killed and, most likely, left to rot in a shallow grave.

The foundation trembled,

Secrets unleashed,

Yōma...

The young man's thoughts were cut off when he ran around a tree and almost ran straight into an old-fashioned wall and gate, seeming like structures out of the Meiji period. Though he stopped himself and took a moment to get a few breaths in, he then also took quick notice to the massive hole in the wall that was about ten meters from the entrance. After a few more huffs, he cautiously approached and balked at the small portion of destruction. Then, stepping over a few pieces of rubble, he peeked through and noted all of the signs of fighting. From a few unconscious girls dressed in shinobi garb to all of the debris of uprooted lantern posts and shingles from the surrounding buildings.

Seeing a small opportunity to be taken, the young man considered the circumstances. Whatever was going on was still likely to be an ongoing distraction that could be used to keep attention off himself. He could go in, mentally map the place out, and then get out. It would be a simple effort with a high reward, requiring only a bit of due caution in case of unexpected reinforcements and such. If the young man were even bolder, he could even take the opportunity to issue a provocation, a very necessary step in his plan for helping all of the girls.

Without much more due thought or wariness, the young man stepped in further and began to walk along the several paths of Hebijo Academy. As if to affirm dedication to his action, he lifted the scarf around his neck to cover his face and gave both ends of it a tug of resolve.

An unaware mankind,

Sacrificial fighters,

A force of enslavement,

Hypocrites of freewill,

With beasts of arrogance!

An unaware mankind,

Sacrificial fighters,

A force of enslavement,

Hypocrites of freewill,

With beasts of arrogance!

Though the storm fought,

Slamming him with wave after wave,

The swan charged on,

Seeking out his obscurity,

As fear found life,

And he was forced to confront it.

But there's no lonesome night,

For shadows blessed their aid,

Both as trusty comrades,

And as soothing lovers,

Due to their loyal hearts,

Steeled more as they found dreams!

Thunder and lightning still raged on,

The swan was pulled to the ocean!

The creatures hunted and roamed close,

Playing a game,

Which carried their ancestral wrongs,

With malintent,

Knowing the choice of right and wrong,

But unable.

The weight of the world crashed,

And the swan could not hold,

As he was pulled further!

The ocean had no love,

And killed without remorse,

As all light lost its sound...!

Though he could cry and plead for help,

The world would not reverse his death...

Were it not for their thumping hearts...

They who stood with pure intention,

With dedicated fists to their chests...

The swan would have died long before,

Never to know the love they had,

For he who saved more than their lives.

The swan's head broke water,

And fought to find its shore,

Against restrictive waves,

For his right to live life...!

Upon finding the coast,

He stood up with his flock!

Their suffering was not in vain,

And their prize was found in the end.

The peace within,

Finding one's self,

Inside dear friends,

And those beloved,

Strengthens resolve,

In hard hours.

The world is always cruel,

And many feel hopeless.

But confidants fend pain,

Relieving beaten souls.

Where there's adversity,

There is triumphant hope.

In the swan's every action...

Their Heart of the Infiltrators.

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