System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 215: Chapter 214: ”...Hi?”

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The world resolved into existence around Alaric with a silent, spatial twist. It was new, but the effect of Kamui and Hiraishin used at the same time was cool. The moment he starts teleporting, he leaves a flash but when he arrives, he is intangible.

One moment he was in his makeshift cooking area, the next he was in a wide, dimly lit room, the air was cool and smelled of antiseptic herbs and damp stone. The transition was seamless, a perfect execution of his Hiraishin+Kamui. ’I need to make a name for this Jutsu soon... hehehehehe...’

He stood in the center of the room, his form an intangible, shimmering ghost thanks to the Kamui he had activated moments before teleporting.

The room was sparse, functional. It was clearly a temporary hideout. A few simple futons were laid out on the tatami mats, a low table sat in the center with a half-empty teapot, and medical supplies were neatly arranged on a small chest in the corner.

There were two people present.

On one of the futons, Zabuza Momochi was laid down, his massive frame still and bandaged, recuperating from his feigned death. Beside him, sitting on a simple wooden chair, was Haku. The young hunter-nin was a picture of serene devotion, his gaze fixed on his master, his hands resting quietly in his lap.

Alaric remained where he was, a silent, invisible observer. ’Ah... did I arrive too early?’ he mused, his gaze sweeping the room. ’I thought Gatō would be here, furious.’

”...”

”...”

”...”

Minutes ticked by. Nothing happened.

Haku didn’t move, save for the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. Zabuza remained unconscious, or at least, appeared to be. The silence was absolute, broken only by the distant sound of dripping water somewhere in the hideout.

Alaric found himself growing bored. He had expected... more. A confrontation, a villainous monologue from Gatō, something. Not this quiet, almost tender, domesticity.

’Does he have nothing else to do?’ Alaric wondered, his gaze settling on Haku. ’Just... sit there?’

He waited a few more minutes, turning his intangible head to examine the cracks in the stone walls, the intricate weave of the tatami mats. The novelty of the situation wore off quickly. He had places to be, money to acquire. He sighed, the sound completely inaudible in his phased state, and decided to move things along.

He allowed his form to solidify, the world snapping back into sharp, tangible focus. He stood there for a full second, a towering, crimson-coated anomaly in the quiet room.

”...Hi?”

”Huh!?”

The effect was instantaneous. Haku shot to his feet, a whirlwind of motion, his body dropping into a low, defensive stance, senbon already appearing between his fingers as if by magic. ”You are...!?”

The sudden movement, the sharp exclamation, was enough to rouse Zabuza. The larger man’s eyes snapped open, not with the grogginess of a man waking from sleep, but with the sharp, cold alertness of a predator feigning weakness.

He recognized the voice. This man, this impossible shinobi, had found them. Zabuza’s hand, hidden beneath the thin blanket, closed around the hilt of his massive blade.

”Alaric, yes. That’s my name,” Alaric said, deactivating his Kamui completely. He held up his hands in a placating gesture, a disarming, almost friendly smile on his face. ”I just have a question, if you don’t mind.”

”NOW!” Zabuza roared, his voice a guttural explosion of sound.

Haku didn’t hesitate. With a flick of his wrist, a barrage of senbon shot through the air, a silver storm aimed at every vital point on Alaric’s body. Simultaneously, Zabuza threw off his blanket, his massive frame leaping from the futon, his Kubikiribōchō already in his hand, swinging in a deadly, cleaving arc.

But it was pointless. The senbon passed straight through Alaric’s body as if he were a phantom. Zabuza’s blade did the same, the cold steel phasing through his chest without resistance. Haku and Zabuza’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

”Hey now, I just want to talk,” Alaric sighed, the very picture of exasperation as his body solidified once more. ”I know I surprised you, but I really do have a question. There’s no need for violence.”

Zabuza and Haku exchanged a look, a silent, lightning-fast communication passing between them. They landed on opposite sides of the room, their hands a blur as they began to form a new series of complex hand signs for a coordinated jutsu.

Alaric sighed again, the last of his patience evaporating. His Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan flared to life, the intricate, geometric pattern in his eyes glowing with an otherworldly, crimson light. ’Vulcan...’

In an instant, the air around Zabuza and Haku’s hands seemed to shimmer. Solid, gleaming metal materialized from nothing, wrapping around their fingers and wrists, forming intricate, unyielding cuffs that locked their hands in place, effectively canceling whatever jutsu they had been about to cast.

”Tsk!” Haku clicked his tongue in frustration. He leaped backward, putting distance between himself and Alaric. He looked down at the metal trapping his hands, then back at the crimson-eyed intruder.

He took a deep breath, and the temperature in the room plummeted. A visible aura of chilling cold emanated from him as he exhaled a stream of frigid air onto the restraints. The low-carbon steel, subjected to the extreme thermal shock of his Hyōton, became instantly brittle. With a sharp grunt of effort, he shattered the metal, freeing his hands.

”W-Wow!” Alaric’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. It was the first time anyone had ever broken free of his Vulcan restraints. His Sharingan glowed again, a flicker of competitive amusement in his eyes. A new set of cuffs materialized around Haku’s hands, these ones were not the dull grey of steel, but the warm, reddish-brown of pure copper. ”What are you gonna do about that now?”

Haku gritted his teeth, unleashing his chilling chakra again. But this time, the copper simply grew cold, its high thermal conductivity dissipating the freezing energy, refusing to become brittle. He was trapped.

”Damnit! What do you want?” Zabuza’s voice was a low, dangerous growl. He stood his ground, his own hands still encased in steel, his gaze flicking from his trapped partner to the impossible man before them. ”You’re faster than our eyes can follow, you can appear from nowhere, and you can restrain us with a thought. Are you a bounty hunter?”

”Nah,” Alaric shook his head, pulling a cigar from his coat and lighting it with a snap of his index finger. ”As I said, I came here to talk. To ask a question.” He took a slow, leisurely drag, the fragrant smoke filling the tense silence. ”Answer me, and I’ll let you go.”

”...”

”...”

”Release us first,” Zabuza demanded, his voice a low, commanding growl.

Alaric just chuckled, a soft, condescending sound. He took another drag from his cigar, his crimson eyes locking onto Zabuza’s. ”No,” he said simply. ”That’s not how you negotiate when you’re not on the upper hand, Zabuza.”

”...Fuck,” Zabuza’s gaze flickered to Haku for a fraction of a second, a silent, almost imperceptible wave of concern passing over his features before his expression hardened again into a mask of defiance. ”Ask what you want.”

Haku saw the look. He saw the flicker of worry in his master’s eyes, the silent admission of their powerlessness. And in that moment, he knew their fight, for now, was over.

Alaric stared at the two defeated shinobi for a moment, a silent acknowledgment of their surrender, before nodding his head. ”Where’s Gatō hiding?”

”...You expect us to disclose our client’s whereabouts!?” Zabuza sneered, a last vestige of his pride flaring up. ”Don’t be an amateur.”

”Yep,” the blonde smiled, completely unfazed. ”You should. He’s planning to betray you.”

The statement hung in the air, cold and sharp. Both Zabuza and Haku’s eyes widened, but Zabuza quickly narrowed his again, a disbelieving scowl on his face. ”I’ve been in this business for as long as I can remember. You think a sniveling coward like him has the guts to betray me?”

Alaric took a long, slow drag from his cigar, then, with a flick of his wrist, two simple, unadorned wooden chairs materialized from thin air, landing with a soft thud on the tatami mats behind the two shinobi. He walked over to the chair Haku had been using and sat down, crossing his legs with a relaxed, almost regal, air.

”Sit down, will you?” he offered, his tone conversational. ”I’ll explain.”

Zabuza and Haku exchanged a look. They were trapped, outmatched, and utterly confused. With a shared, reluctant sigh, they sat, the metal cuffs on their hands a heavy, constant reminder of their predicament.

”Right now, Gatō wouldn’t dare betray you,” Alaric began, his voice a low, easy drawl. ”You’re his ace in the hole, his ultimate weapon. However,” he paused, letting the word hang in the air, ”after your next battle with Kakashi, when you’re exhausted, when your chakra is depleted, that’s when he’ll make his move. He’s already hired a small army of thugs and wannabe samurais. He plans to kill you both to avoid paying your fee, which, in his greedy little mind, is far too high.”

”...Kakashi? You think I’m going to be beaten by him?” Zabuza growled, his hand tightening on the metal encasing it. ”If you weren’t there, I would have killed him.”

”Uhh, no,” Alaric shook his head, a light, almost pitying chuckle escaping him. ”You think Kakashi was fighting you at his best? He was caught off-guard. Now that he knows what he’s up against, that’s a different story. The man didn’t become an ANBU captain at twelve for no reason.”

”That just means Konoha’s rating system is trash,” Zabuza laughed, a harsh, menacing sound. ”If that was the best an ANBU veteran could do, then Konoha has truly fallen from grace.”

Alaric’s eyebrows rose, but he just chuckled again, a genuine, amused sound this time. ”Well, if that’s the way you want to think about it, go ahead,” he said, taking another drag from his cigar. ”But let’s not waste any more time talking about Kakashi. Just tell me where Gatō is hiding, and I’ll leave this place without damaging a single strand of hair on either of you.”

”That’s not happening,” Zabuza retorted, his eyes narrowed. ”We won’t get paid if you go after him. Who’s going to pay us then... you?” The last word was a sarcastic, desperate jab, a final attempt to regain some semblance of control.

Haku remained silent, but his gaze flickered between his master and Alaric. ’Zabuza-sama should just be quiet,’ he thought, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. ’We should just tell this man what he wants. We can always find another mission.’

”Sure,” Alaric said, the word so simple, so casual, that it completely deflated the tension in the room. ”I can pay you.”

Zabuza stared, his own sarcasm rendered utterly impotent. He blinked, for the first time in the entire encounter, genuinely at a loss for words. ”How much is your deal with Gatō?” Alaric asked, his tone now that of a bored accountant.

”...Two hundred thousand ryo,” Zabuza finally managed, his voice a low, disbelieving rasp.

Alaric took one final drag from his cigar, then casually tossed the smoldering butt to the side. He raised his hand, and a complex fuinjutsu seal on his shoulder glowed with a faint, golden light. A small, but incredibly dense, pile of paper money materialized on the low table in front of them with a soft thump.

”Ah,” Alaric said, leaning forward and beginning to count the bills with a practiced, almost bored, efficiency. ”You better count with me, so you don’t have to count again.”

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