Under the cloak of night, the urban center was a tapestry of shadows and shimmering lights. Standing in front of a grand mansion, a man cut a striking figure against the backdrop of the moonlit sky. His silver hair, tied back neatly, glinted softly under the dim streetlights.
He wore an outfit of exquisite elegance: a dark kimono embroidered with intricate designs that seemed to catch the faint light. A beautifully woven obi belt cinched the kimono at his waist. His hakama pants fell gracefully to his ankles, allowing for both fluid movement and a stately appearance. Over his ensemble, he draped a haori jacket, the fabric rich and adorned with subtle, regal patterns that spoke of nobility and prestige.
A deep crimson scarf was wrapped around his neck, partially obscuring his face and adding an air of mystery to his demeanor. His piercing eyes, barely visible above the scarf, seemed to see through the darkness, revealing nothing while taking in everything. His stance, relaxed yet alert, was a testament to his training and discipline.
Armed guards patrolled the grand mansion, their modern rifles glinting under the artificial lights. These men were equipped with AK-47s, their faces set in stern expressions as they kept a vigilant watch. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the sound of metal slicing through the air. With a single, swift swing of his blade, the silver-haired man sliced through the imposing gate, sending it crashing down.
The noise caught the immediate attention of the guards, who quickly moved to investigate. Shouts filled the air as they realized what had happened. "It's the Ryōshi!" one of them yelled, the name meaning "Man Hunter" echoing with fear.
Before they could react, Ryōshi moved at lightning speed, knocking the first wave of guards to the ground with ease. His movements were a blur, each strike precise and devastating. The guards barely had time to raise their weapons before they were incapacitated.
Inside the mansion, the boss sat in his opulently furnished office, surrounded by his elite guards who stood facing the door, ready to defend him. The sounds of screams and gunshots echoed through the hallways, growing closer and then, suddenly, silence. The tension in the office became palpable, each guard gripping their weapons tighter, the sense of impending doom hanging heavily in the air.
One of the guards, a burly figure with a machine gun slung over his shoulder and a bag full of bullets strapped to his back, raised his weapon and aimed at the door. The slightest movement caught his attention, and he opened fire. The bullets tore through the fancy wooden door, reducing it to nothing more than a sieve before it fell to the ground in splinters.
Ryōshi, hidden by the wall, waited for the right moment. As the dust began to settle, he emerged, moving with the speed and precision of a seasoned warrior. The guards, momentarily blinded by the debris, struggled to see through the haze. As their vision cleared, they spotted Ryōshi and fired again.
Before the bullets could reach him, Ryōshi twisted his hand, employing Shinkūken—the Vacuum Blade technique. With a swift motion, he sliced through the oncoming bullets, deflecting them effortlessly. The guard's eyes widened in shock as Ryōshi's blade continued its arc, severing the man's arm and causing him to lose control of the massive gun. The weapon clattered to the ground, and the guard cursed in pain and frustration, "Son of a bitch! How the hell did you do that?"
Ryōshi moved forward with a calm, deliberate stride, his voice cutting through the tension. "I only want the one under the table," he declared. As soon as he finished speaking, the table fell apart, revealing the boss cowering beneath it and a skilled lady armed with daggers beside it. She spun and threw a flurry of blades at him, but Ryōshi deflected them all with ease.
Next, a man wielding a spinning baton stick attacked, managing to hit Ryōshi in the stomach. The man laughed, thinking he had won, but his laughter turned to shock as he saw Ryōshi completely unfazed. Normally, such an attack would send someone skidding across the ground, but Ryōshi stood firm, unmoved. When the man pulled the baton stick back, it shattered completely. Ryōshi swung his blade, hitting the man with the sheath just hard enough to make him sleep.
The lady, still flipping and throwing daggers, unleashed a bolt of lightning. Ryōshi kept his composure, slicing the lightning in half before vanishing and reappearing beneath her. With a swift motion, he struck her hard in the stomach with the sheath of his blade, cracking a few ribs but ensuring she wouldn't be killed.
Now facing the guard with the submachine gun, Ryōshi spoke with a cold, commanding tone. "If you don't pick up your friends, they will die from their injuries. Your shattered arm could bleed out, and the lady with cracked ribs could suffer internal bleeding."
With the guards incapacitated, Ryōshi and the boss were alone in the room. The air was thick with tension as Ryōshi stepped forward, his eyes cold and unyielding. "It's time for you to pay for the evil you have committed," he said, his voice low and menacing.
The boss, trembling and unable to hide his fear, backed away, but there was nowhere to run. Ryōshi's presence was overwhelming, a force of retribution that could not be escaped. The only sounds that followed were the boss's desperate screams and the sickening thud of Ryōshi's blade.
From outside, the guards could only hear the chilling screams and see blood splattering against the window. The silence that followed was even more terrifying, leaving them to imagine the fate that had befallen their leader.