Rashta
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35. The White-Haired Boy
🕑 Added 2025-07-18 05:24:52 +0000 UTC
The massive, dark-purple exoskeleton-clad half-human, half-centipede monster—had just been beheaded by a man it had impaled moments ago.
The grotesque, pallid head tumbled down from its forty-meter height before crashing to the ground. Without its head, the monster’s colossal body finally collapsed with a thunderous boom.
"Boom!"
The impact sent thick plumes of dust billowing into the air.
Shiraishi Mori, still skewered by the kagune, was buried beneath the shattered rubble.
"Well, well…"
Hidan, watching from the stands, raised an eyebrow in surprise before whipping his head toward Shiki.
"Damn it, Shiki! Don’t tell me you planned this when you kicked that bug away earlier!"
There was no way someone of Shiki’s strength—let alone his innate suppression over kagune—would leave even a sliver of life in that insect unless it was intentional.
The only explanation? He’d spared the monster on purpose… just to let it become part of Shiraishi’s final act.
Shiki arched a brow, feigning shock. "Oh? You actually figured that out? I’m impressed your brain cells managed that."
Hidan’s eye twitched. "You bastard—are you mocking my intelligence?!"
Shiki’s expression shifted to exaggerated awe. "Wow, you caught that too? Amazing!"
"I’LL KILL YOU!"
As the two bickered, the mountainous corpse of the centipede monster suddenly twitched.
Shiki adjusted his glasses calmly. "Seems luck favors that boy."
Hidan squinted. The carcass shuddered violently—then, with a sickening tear, a pale arm burst through its flesh.
Though slender, the sinewy muscles beneath that alabaster skin hinted at terrifying strength.
The arm braced against the monster’s hide, and with one final heave, Shiraishi Mori hauled himself free.
But he was… different.
Gone was his former self. Now, his frame was gaunt, his skin unnaturally white.
His once-dark hair had turned snow-pale, and his eyes—swallowed by inky blackness—were veined with crimson threads that spiraled outward like cursed sigils.
His entire aura had transformed. As though…
He’d been reborn.
"Hah! Kid actually made it." Hidan sounded almost disappointed. "Thought he’d bite it after taking that kinda damage."
Shiki observed the white-haired, crimson-eyed Shiraishi below, smiling. "Oh, he didn’t just ‘make it.’"
"Huh?"
Hidan scrutinized Shiraishi, searching for changes beyond the obvious.
Unbothered by the intrusive stare, Shiraishi simply lifted his gaze, his pale locks drifting faintly in the wind.
"Who… are you two?"
"Tch. Kid’s acting all cool now—kinda reminds me of a certain bastard." Hidan jerked a thumb at Shiki before hopping onto the railing with a wild grin.
"But since you asked so nicely~!" He spread his arms theatrically. "We’re the Jashin Faith’s holy sons! The great Lord Jashin's walking vessels in this world!"
Shiraishi’s brow furrowed. He’d assumed the Jashin cult was just another group hiding behind a false god’s name.
But after everything he’d witnessed—after what he’d become—was Jashin… real?
"You could’ve saved everyone from the start, couldn’t you?"
His tone wasn’t accusatory, just quiet.
Shiki nodded. "Of course. Crushing Sakamoto and freeing you all would’ve been trivial."
Shiraishi’s fists clenched—but Shiki cut him off.
"You want to ask why I didn’t. Why I orchestrated this ‘chance’ for you instead. Why, if I’d acted sooner… your parents might still be alive."
He tilted his head, studying the white-haired man like a specimen.
Then, with a chuckle, he asked the cruelest question:
"But why should I?"
Shiki leaped down, landing inches from Shiraishi. Their eyes met—one pair blood-red and haunted, the other hidden behind gleaming lenses.
"Look closely." Shiki’s voice dropped to a whisper. "I’m not a hero. Not even human. Just… a monster."
Hands in his pockets, he turned and walked away.
Shiraishi Mori lowered his head, his hair casting shadows that obscured his expression.
"But if it weren't for you—"
Before he could finish, Shiki appeared before him in an instant, driving a knee into his gut with enough force to bend his body like a shrimp.
"If it weren't for me," Shiki said coolly, "not only your parents—but you—would have been slaughtered by Sakamoto long ago."
He released Shiraishi, letting the trembling young man collapse to his knees.
Then, a sudden influx of information from his shared crow network made Shiki’s eyebrow twitch.
"Heh. Kid, seems like something interesting is happening in Mizuo Village."
At those words, Shiraishi’s eyes snapped wide open.
His parents were already dead. The only family he had left in this world were his grandfather and younger sister.
He could not—would not— let anything happen to them.
His pupils dilated into pinpricks, veins of crimson exploding across the blackened sclera as a dark-red centipede-like kagune burst from his waist.
It smashed through the ship’s hull in an instant, and without hesitation, Shiraishi shot through the breach, racing toward the fishing village he once called home.
The moment he breached the outside air—
The stench of burning flesh assaulted his nostrils.
And then, his vision was flooded with—
A sea of flames.
His lips parted slightly.
Then, with a bestial roar, four additional kagune erupted from his back, slamming into the ground and propelling him into the sky like a crimson comet.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—
Explosions echoed through the village as Shiraishi tore through the distance, arriving at his family’s home in under two minutes.
But he was too late.
A shinobi wearing a triple-slash forehead protector stood over an elderly man—
—his grandfather—
—driving a ninjato straight through the old man’s chest.
His grandfather’s fading eyes locked onto Shiraishi. With his last breath, he gasped:
"Run......"
The shinobi turned, noticing Shiraishi.
"Tch. Missed one of the brats, huh?"
A cruel smirk twisted the man’s face as he slowly withdrew the bloodied blade.
Shiraishi’s world shattered.
His pupils contracted into hellish red dots.
And then—
Something inside him snapped.
A tsunami of annihilation erupted from his body, his kagune going berserk in an instant.
"RAAAAAAAAAGH—!!"
The very air trembled as a monstrous black centipede-like entity materialized around him, its sheer size causing the earth to quake with every movement.
The Yugakure shinobi froze.
"W-What the hell is that?!"
One of the younger ninjas trembled. "I told you! We shouldn’t have taken Sakamoto’s dirty money!"
Another glared at him. "Oh, shut it! You’d rather rot in poverty with the rest of the village elders?!"
But their bickering didn’t matter anymore.
The shadow of death loomed over them.
A maw of endless darkness opened wide.
And the Avenger—
—began his slaughter.
