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Twin Demons. Chapter 40
🕑 Added 2025-10-06 21:22:25 +0000 UTCWhen the bowls were emptied and the leftovers neatly disposed of, Tazuna came down from upstairs. This time he was surprisingly sober and even somewhat washed up. His hair was combed, his shirt buttoned.
“Good morning,” he waved and, with the audacity of a host, sat at the table. “So what’s for breakfast?”
“You’ve got some nerve,” Naruko gave him a look like a wolf eyeing a rabbit that had dared to wander into her den.
“He probably thinks,” Menma leaned back in his chair and regarded the old man coldly, “that since we didn’t abandon him on the road, we forgave him and agreed to continue the mission. But don’t you even consider, Tazuna, that we dragged you here for interrogation?”
“Me?!” Tazuna almost fell off his chair. “For what? I didn’t do anything!”
“Save the stories,” Menma’s voice turned to steel. “You’ve been drinking sake since the start of the mission because you were expecting an ambush. And yesterday, right after the fight, you got yourself drunk enough that if we decided to execute you for betrayal, you wouldn’t even feel it.”
Karin, Naruko, and even Yamato stared at the client with open disdain. The old man shrank under their gazes.
“I had no choice!” he pleaded, staring at Karin as if hoping for her pity. “The Land of Waves is poor, it has no future. I’m the last hope!”
“Tazuna-san, let’s be honest,” Yamato said in a businesslike tone. “Who exactly wants you dead?”
“His name is Gato,” Tazuna admitted with a frown. “On paper, a shipbuilder. In reality, he deals drugs and controls bandits. Rich, influential, dangerous.”
“Oh, I can’t—!” Naruko doubled over laughing. “A tycoon from Nowheresville! Tazuna, you’re a clown!”
“Naruko, stop it!” Karin scolded, adjusting her glasses.
“She’s right, though,” Menma allowed himself a faint smile. “Karin, the Land of Waves is so poor that this ‘tycoon’s’ income barely matches Teuchi’s daily earnings. Being afraid of him… is laughable.”
Karin faltered, glancing at Yamato. But he only gave a restrained smile, clearly agreeing.
“Back to business,” Yamato turned to the client. “If you knew you had shinobi on your tail, why didn’t you request a higher-ranked mission?”
“That was all the money I had left!” Tazuna threw up his hands like a tragic hero. “Gato oppresses my people. To give them hope, I must build a bridge connecting us to the mainland. Every coin in the village went into construction materials!”
“Cut the fairy tales,” Menma frowned. “If you wanted Gato gone, hiring an assassin would’ve been enough. But you’re building a bridge with mysterious funds. Who’s your sponsor?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Tazuna wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Menma leaned forward, his gaze turning icy:
“Then here’s how it is. We’ll take a vote right now — whether to keep risking our lives, or cut off your head and sell it to Gato himself. So far, I like the second option better.”
Tazuna swallowed so loudly everyone heard it.
“Harsh…” Karin recoiled. “I didn’t think you could be like that, Menma.”
“I was never kind,” he replied calmly, baring his devilish fangs. “Just polite.”
His gaze fell again on the pale old man:
“At the end of this talk, we’ll vote. If you want my vote in your favor — tell the truth.”
Tazuna looked around at the others, searching for rescue. But Yamato only crossed his arms, making it clear he wouldn’t interfere. Naruko leaned her shoulder against her brother, silently pleased with his pressure. Karin deliberately averted her eyes.
“Fine!” the old man exhaled weakly, bracing his palms on his knees. “I’m working for a corporation. They need the bridge to open trade and build factories. Jobs, food, a future for the people! But Gato, who makes his money on drugs, is against it.”
“Now that’s more believable than your fairy tale about paupers who somehow scraped together money for concrete,” Menma nodded and turned to the team. “I’ve heard enough. Anyone got questions?”
No one answered. Interrogation over.
“I deceived you, and I can’t be forgiven!” Tazuna clutched his chest and, with a sob, forced out a tear. “If you kill me, my daughter will die of grief! My poor grandson will be left alone and soon starve to death… But I understand, and I won’t force you…”
The performance in the genre of “lonely sufferer against a cruel world” moved no one. Naruko even gave a lazy clap, like in a cheap theater, while Menma yawned.
“That voting idea was clever, Menma,” Yamato cut in firmly, “but I’m the commander here, and the final word is mine. We continue the mission. Killing the client would damage Konoha’s reputation. As for danger—I believe those were the only nukenin. We have nothing else to fear.”
[Let’s see what you say when Zabuza points his sword at you.]
///
The next day passed in a fast march. Without a word, Yamato tossed Tazuna into a wooden cart, tripling their pace. The client sat quietly, not touching sake, as if he’d accidentally bitten off his tongue along with his pride.
Menma walked at the front in high spirits. From the moment he got this mission, it was obvious a clash with a strong opponent was inevitable. Deep down, he’d been waiting for it.
Team 11 reached the seashore while it was still light. There they were met by an old man, Tazuna’s peer, standing by a motorboat.
“This is Sanbei,” Tazuna introduced, suddenly lively. “My friend and my daughter’s godfather. He’ll take us across.”
“How convenient,” Menma drawled, eyeing him suspiciously. “Except we’re three days ahead of schedule. How’d you happen to be here?”
“I fish here every morning,” Sanbei shrugged and touched his fishing rod without looking. “Gato’s men are hunting you, Tazuna. They’re everywhere already. We’ll have to cross quietly.”
They settled into the boat. The motor stayed off—only the creak of wood and the splash of water in the morning mist. Soon, the silhouettes of massive bridge pillars loomed ahead of them.
“So you really can build,” Naruko pointed a finger at the hazy giant. “I thought you were more like a beaver—at best, gnawing a raft.”
“I’m a world-renowned architect!” Tazuna protested, then clapped a hand over his mouth, afraid his voice would give them away.
“No need to hush,” Menma said lazily, eyes closed. “We’re already being watched.”
“By who?” Yamato tensed instantly.
“No idea. But the chakra’s strong, like Sarutobi Asuma’s,” Menma murmured. “Already ran off to set an ambush. And by the way, he was watching from that perfect little spot on the bridge, through the mist. Exactly where your friend Sanbei just steered us.”
Silence hung over the boat. A second to process—and Tazuna snapped:
“You bastard!” He lunged at the fisherman with his fists. “I thought we were friends! You’re my daughter’s godfather!”
“I had no choice!” Sanbei covered his face with his hands. “Gato’s men threatened my family!”
“Separate,” Yamato said calmly, tossing Tazuna to the other end of the boat with one hand. He sat beside the fisherman. “What exactly were you told to do?”
“Gato knows about you,” Sanbei stammered. “He hired another shinobi. I was supposed to point you out to him. Then start the motor as a signal.”
“Scum,” Tazuna spat overboard.
“Describe this shinobi,” Yamato locked eyes with Sanbei.
“I… I don’t know. Huge… his face wrapped in bandages… I nearly pissed myself from just one look…”
Yamato formed hand seals and pressed two fingers to his forehead. The fisherman went still, his eyes glazing over.
“Whoa!” Naruko bounced. “Sensei, did you kill him?”
“No,” Yamato shook his head. “This is a memory recall technique. To the subject it feels like watching a movie—events with details and freeze frames. Spies use it often.”
“Useful trick,” Menma noted, eyes narrowing. “You’ll teach me?”
“Later,” Yamato cut him off.
“He’s a tall man, face hidden by bandages…” Sanbei’s voice quivered but grew precise, like a narrator’s. “On his back… a massive sword…”
“Momochi Zabuza, Demon of the Mist,” Yamato recognized instantly and snapped the fisherman out of the trance. “A strong opponent.”
“Maybe we should retreat?” Karin said uncertainly, clutching her chest.
“We can’t run forever,” Yamato shook his head. “If we flee, he’ll chase. With the client, we won’t get far. That would be even worse.”
“And if we walk right into the trap—that’s better?!” Karin exploded.
“We’ve got the advantage,” Yamato answered more calmly than he should have. “We know who the enemy is and what he wants. Now we just need to play on that.”
The boat glided closer to shore. The mist thickened, heavy, as if it itself awaited the demon’s arrival.
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