Story Reader / Festival Event Story / Shape of Thunder / Story
Toure musters a bit more courage, but Iron Skull has already left. Toure carefully guides you through winding passages, leading you to another side hall.
You brace yourself and knock on the door, its surface covered in deep scratches. Right away, a jarring voice booms from inside.
Who's there? Which damned fool dares to disturb us? That red-eyed mechanoid?
The synchronized sounds of rustling fabric and guns being loaded echo from within. Toure's body language screams that he's ready to bolt.
Hold it. Let them in.
The heavy wooden door creaks open, revealing rows of... "monks" on both sides of the side hall, all wearing robes and holding guns at the ready.
Huh? You here to start something?! You must have a death wish.
Who do you think you're? You want some of this?
Let them finish first.
Still...
A single bowl makes no sound, but two bowls clash. Sasafune, have you forgotten what Boss always tells us?
The Yama Clan upholds chivalry, not thuggery.
His calm yet commanding voice resonates through the hall, and the young man lowers his once-haughty head.
I'm sorry, Mr. Kaiki.
B-but this is the same "prey" Young Madam took away. We couldn't even get a word in with her...
Oh?
A faint glimmer flashes in the middle-aged man's eyes, making it feel like he's judging you from head to toe.
Let's talk inside.
The once-stifling tension eases. Under hostile gazes, you settle into a seat in the side hall.
Toure has no chance to slip away, so he grudgingly tags along. The moment he tries anything sneaky, a few "friendly" folks promptly block him with their broad frames.
All the random trinkets he's been lugging around—hardly weapons by any measure—are swiftly and "politely" taken away.
The man everyone calls "Mr. Kaiki" should be their leader. He shows no hint of anger or joy, and he's surprisingly courteous—clearly someone not to be underestimated.
Honored guest, what brings you here?
Are you kidding me? Those brats steal a little rice one day and grab a gun the next. You think we're just letting them walk away free? You really think the boys are okay with that?!
Well, you jumped us first and hurt our people. That was just payback!
The moment Toure stops talking, he ducks behind you. Sasafune glares at him fiercely. You signal him to stay quiet and quickly change the subject.
Dangerous? Like we don't already know that? You think we came all this way without being prepared?!
Sasafune roars, fists clenched, as he charges ahead. His crew leaps up behind him, tension about to explode. Kaiki stands by, lost in thought, making no move to stop them.
This is not good. He's hotheaded and impulsive after all those hits. There's no telling what he'll do, and you're unarmed—if things escalate, you can't handle them alone.
Are you really trapped in a helpless predicament? Beads of sweat begin to form on your back.
Right when you're at a standstill, a faint noise drifts down from the rooftop, like the crackle of static electricity.
Alpha?!
Just as the thought crosses your mind, a cold glint streaks through the air. A dagger, tossed with uncanny accuracy, pierces the low table in front of you.
What?! Where did that come from?!
Its hilt may be scarred, but the blade is in pristine shape—astonishingly sharp. Clearly, even now, its owner cares for it deeply.
The crowd erupts in panic. Reflected on that gleaming blade are the faces of everyone—some guarded, some panicked, and some trembling in fear.
It's a perfect interruption. You silently cheer while keeping up a composed, confident front.
With the strongest backing behind you, you even stand a bit straighter. You just hope she isn't suggesting she'll use that dagger on anyone who disagrees.
As soon as Kaiki hears the title "young madam" again, his expression finally changes.
Stop, all of you.
You're from Babylonia, right? What's your relationship with Young Madam?
The middle-aged man taps the low table twice, then laces his hands beneath his chin. His henchmen immediately step back at his cue.
Honored guest, you might not know this.
Enshrined in the monastery, this sacred sword was forged by legendary Golden Age smith Masamune, who devoted his life to crafting it from materials so rare they were almost impossible to find.
After all this time, it's still razor-sharp, cutting through iron like clay. It belonged to our boss, and now that he's gone, we will keep it safe.
We can't just let a masterpiece like this sit around collecting dust; as Boss' family, we'd never allow it.
But...
There's no mistaking Boss' swordsmanship. That figure... She is the successor Boss once mentioned.
If Young Madam wants to take this sword, we won't stand in the way.
Sasafune is about to speak, but Kaiki raises a hand and gently stops him.
For people like us abandoned and left with no home, Boss was like a savior who gave us a second chance. Staying true to his benevolence and beliefs is the Yama Clan's unwavering duty.
Everyone here is my precious child, and I always stand up for them. When it comes to outsiders, though, I respectfully keep my distance.
The Yama Clan is taking it upon ourselves to protect Boss' monastery.
That's right!!
Sasafune stands there, full of pride, glaring in your direction as if raising his voice makes him more intimidating.
I understand where you're coming from. But we still have a real situation right in front of us that needs to be dealt with.
The Corrupted are still lurking in the main hall, just waiting for the right moment to strike. Honestly, for regular folks, it's nearly impossible to avoid more casualties.
You're not the type to lead your people to their doom, are you?
You drive the point home with "doom." As suspected, they're well-organized and disciplined, and also treasure their comrades.
The Corrupted roam the snowy mountains, and these people have arrived here for various reasons. You can't help but respect their resolve and perseverance.
They want to protect the monastery and settle here, but going it alone is wishful thinking. The higher their rank, the more they need to weigh the pros and cons—determination alone just isn't enough.
It's easy to conquer, but hard to defend. Please consider my proposal.
Regarding the Corrupted, A—I mean, your young madam and I will handle it.
Someone snorts in disdain, their expression making it clear they don't believe a word of this.
You raise your voice, ensuring you keep control of the negotiations.
It will take a lot of work before the monastery is truly livable again.
I promise Babylonia provides some support to help establish order here.
Toure has no concept of what being a commandant of Babylonia means, and he looks over in surprise the moment he hears your words.
Think about it for a second—aren't these refugees just like you were back when you had no place to call home?
If your boss once took you in, he definitely wants you to make the better choice right now.
Kaiki finally looks moved. He sits up straight for a moment in solemn silence, then slowly nods.
It seems this showdown is about to end. While the momentum is there, you throw in one final comment.
No matter who's involved, this is a chance for a <b>win-win</b> outcome.
Hmm. All right. If you really can handle the Corrupted...
Pops?! We can't just let this go...!
Got a better idea? Sasafune, I know pride matters, but we're out of ammo and starving. Weapons won't fill our stomachs.
Sasafune glares at you, his fists clenched and trembling. His face goes bright red as he takes a few deep breaths, then suddenly snaps.
Who the **** do you think you are? We've lost people left and right, and you just stand there running your mouth, ready to split our yakuza's turf—our lifeblood—like it's nothing?
Pops, let's settle this right now! That's how we've always done it!
This isn't a place where you get to act willingly...
Sasafune is about to draw the pistol from inside his coat. For the first time, Kaiki's poker face slips—he can't even finish what he's saying or stop him.
The distance is perfect. Even though he's a yakuza, his reflexes are only human. Before anyone else can react, you kick the gun away and slam Sasafune onto his back with a decisive throw.
When facing an opponent this proud, dislocating the wrist joint is a tried-and-true technique.
Boom! A thunderous crash echoes through the side hall, followed by a pained wail.
You look down at Sasafune, sprawled on the floor, his face twisted in pain. He's not entirely wrong—sometimes force is the quickest way to settle things.
Can I assume we've come to an agreement? I hope you'll respect the "benevolence" you keep talking about.
You can afford to make mistakes now, but on a real battlefield, you can't.
Nobody expected this. As he stands, the henchmen shuffle back, leaving space. Seeing that everything has settled, Kaiki's face is grim—he presses a hand to his forehead and exhales a long, tense sigh.
I haven't kept him in line. Apologies for the spectacle.
Sasafune, if you still call yourself yakuza, you know what you have to do, don't you?
It's your fault this time.
Kaiki glares at Sasafune and points to the dagger stuck in the table. The side hall falls silent, thick with tension.
Y-yes, Pops...
Sasafune keeps his head low, wipes the blood from his nose, and is forced to stretch out his left hand. The dagger catches the light with a cold, merciless gleam.
Is one finger enough? The kid clearly has no idea who he's messing with—and this is how he makes amends.
This is our way.
They glance at Kaiki, pause, then let Sasafune go. He gasps for air and meets your gaze, his eyes full of conflicting emotions. It's not just him—everyone else's hostility shifts as well.
You hurry to grab the dagger, hoping its owner won't mind.
Exhausted, the middle-aged man orders his men to stand down, then rises and gazes at the flickering oil lamp before the Buddha statue in the side hall.
Our boss... he was a man of benevolence, someone everyone respected. He had a natural talent for swordsmanship—so few could rival him—but he never used his strength to intimidate anyone.
Cornered by enemies who exploited his only weakness and destroyed his family, he fled to this mountain to escape the conflict. As for his treasured sword...I hope the young madam will make the most of it.
When you step out of the side hall, Toure looks like he's just been granted a pardon. He gives an awkward bow and darts off.
Snow drifts all around, and yet a single crimson camellia remains in full bloom, boldly defying the cold.
Even though the sky is overcast, the white-haired figure—arms crossed, leaning against the stone tower—stands out and somehow puts you at ease.
You swipe the snowflakes off your face and step up beside her.
Alpha doesn't confirm or deny. She just brushes the thin dusting of snow from her shoulder.
For her, ignoring everything or just stepping over it is the simplest option.
I didn't do anything.
Nice try.
All the wandering Corrupted have been cleared; they won't cause any more trouble.
Of course, there's no need to worry, no reason to doubt—nobody can stand in her way.
Now that the dagger's done its job, hand it over.
