For the next three days, Diarmuid and Jiraiya practically lived within the Flower's Whisper.
The two seemed remarkably compatible, capable of conversing about anything and everything. Their topics flew wildly from one subject to another, making them appear like the oldest of friends. Sleeping through the day and reveling through the night, they settled into a rhythm. Every evening, the Oiran Shiramu Ameri would appear to perform a single piece on her instrument. If she was in a good mood, she might even grace the guests with a few words.
Truthfully, she carried herself with a cold, distant aura that seemed ill-suited for the profession of an Oiran. Yet, perhaps these wealthy men were simply gluttons for punishment, or perhaps it was Shiramu Ameri's noble lineage showing through, but regardless, they ate it up, captivated by her aloofness.
Diarmuid saw through it clearly. Ameri was playing the "ice queen" trope to perfection.
On the third night, as Ameri finished her piece and turned to head upstairs, Diarmuid stood up and stretched. "Time to head out..."
Jiraiya, looking slightly tipsy, gave him a puzzled glance. "We're just getting started, aren't we?"
"Well, I actually have official business to attend to here in the Daimyo Castle. I've been messing around outside for three days; it's about time I got to work," Diarmuid said with a casual chuckle.
As he spoke, he reached out and produced a business card from seemingly nowhere, handing it to Jiraiya. "By following the chakra infused into this, you can summon our Yorozuya's summoning animal. If you ever need help with anything, please, bring your business our way."
"Oh?" Jiraiya took the card and squinted at it. "So, you're a shinobi too? Yorozuya... what kind of business do you run?"
"We accept commissions. We'll do any job," Diarmuid replied, offering a small smile. "I have a premonition that you'll definitely be looking for us."
"You... it sounds like you have quite a few people with you?" Jiraiya asked tentatively, a probe born of his shinobi instincts. He immediately followed up with a laugh. "Sorry, force of habit."
"It's fine. We aren't many, but we are powerful," Diarmuid said.
Without further chatter, Diarmuid glanced toward Shiramu Ameri as she ascended the stairs. Simultaneously, as if sensing his gaze, Ameri paused her steps. She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Diarmuid's.
In truth, Ameri had noticed Diarmuid and Jiraiya over the past few days. Among the sea of guests, they were the most unique and certainly the most extravagant, frequently bestowing her with massive tips.
Beyond their wealth, Jiraiya's boisterous, heroic presence and Diarmuid's dashing silhouette had left an impression on her. Having been born into a prominent family, she possessed the intuition to discern one's "aura." Diarmuid and Jiraiya both carried a presence far beyond the ordinary. Jiraiya felt like a true hero, which, in fact, he was.
Diarmuid, however, was shrouded in mystery. Every gesture and movement of his inadvertently radiated the air of a high-ranking superior.
This wasn't an exaggeration. Diarmuid himself hadn't even noticed these details, but having served nearly twenty years as a Marine Admiral, the habits of an absolute superior had long since seeped into his muscle memory.
Ameri, coming from a Great House, was sensitive to such nuances. She instinctively assumed this man must be a high-ranking noble.
Noticing the Oiran's gaze, Diarmuid's lips curled into a brilliant smile, and he gave her a polite nod. To her own surprise, Ameri returned the nod slightly. Regaining her composure, she quickly averted her eyes and hurried upstairs, her footsteps a bit more frantic than before.
"Hahahaha!"
Diarmuid let out a loud laugh. Without bidding Jiraiya a formal farewell, he turned and vanished into the night.
Jiraiya, who had intended to keep drinking, took two more gulps and suddenly found the sake lacked its flavor. The fun had evaporated. Furthermore, Diarmuid's parting words weighed on his mind.
"Time to get to work"... what kind of work?
Despite only knowing Diarmuid for a few days in a pleasure district, Jiraiya's instincts told him this man was no simple character.
Just then, Jiraiya noticed one of the girls who had been drinking with Diarmuid. She was letting out a massive sigh of relief, looking as though she had just escaped a life-threatening ordeal.
This struck Jiraiya as odd. He felt Diarmuid was quite approachable; he took good care of the girls and was generous with his money without ever being rough. Her reaction seemed out of place.
"What's wrong? You're relieved he's gone? Is he not your type?" Jiraiya asked with a grin.
The girl glanced at Jiraiya and whispered, "Jiraiya-sama, don't you know who he is?"
"Rodriguez Diarmuid. Why, what's up?" Jiraiya asked.
The pleasure districts were, after all, the ultimate hubs for intelligence. The girl whispered hurriedly, "That's exactly why I'm scared! Once I heard that name... that is the name of a Kumogakure S-Ranked criminal! The man suspected of murdering the Third Raikage!"
Jiraiya froze. Then, it clicked. Damn it, I knew that name sounded familiar, I just couldn't place where I'd heard it!
Now that she mentioned it, he remembered. About half a year ago, rumors swirled that the Third Raikage had fallen at the hands of a man named Diarmuid.
This man was a high-level fugitive, the kind who acted with absolute madness and zero restraint!
Normally, this wouldn't be Jiraiya's problem since he wasn't from the Hidden Cloud, but thinking about what "work" Diarmuid might be doing right now made his sake turn to ash in his mouth.
"This isn't good. I have to see what that guy is up to!" A look of gravity flashed in Jiraiya's eyes. He stood up abruptly and said to the girl, "Come on, I'm going to settle the tab."
Moments later, at the front desk, Jiraiya stared at the bill in disbelief. "How much?!"
"A total of 8.64 million Ryo," the receptionist said with a beaming smile.
A massive sale!
"How could it be that much?" Jiraiya said, stunned. He looked closer at the bill and stammered, "Isn't this the bill for the table next to me? That's Diarmuid's!"
"Eh? For the past three days, that guest has been eating and staying with you. He didn't pay when he left, so we assumed the two of you..." the receptionist explained quickly.
Jiraiya: "???"
Diarmuid, you bastard! You come to the pleasure district to live it up and don't pay a single cent? What kind of behavior is this?!
God damn it! I thought I'd get a twenty percent discount because of you, but instead, I'm taking a massive loss!
Fortunately, Jiraiya was genuinely wealthy. Though he grumbled and cursed, he quickly settled the enormous bill.
"Now I even have a reason to chase you down!" Jiraiya muttered irritably.
Originally, he felt like he might be poking his nose into other people's business by following Diarmuid. But now? He was a debt collector! No one could tell him it was inappropriate to hunt the man down!
Stepping out of the flower district, Jiraiya closed his eyes and expanded his chakra sensing.
Simultaneously, on the rooftop of a restaurant facing the Daimyo's Estate, Diarmuid sat on the edge of the terrace. His legs dangled over the side, swaying occasionally. The night wind brushed past his ears, causing the tips of his slightly long black hair to flutter. He held a pipe in his hand, his gaze fixed on the distant Daimyo's Estate as he slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke.
Before the smoke could dissipate, two figures appeared behind him with a silent shush-shush. It was Sasori and Kakuzu, having restored their normal appearances.
"Is your business finished?" Diarmuid asked without turning his head.
Kakuzu said indifferently, "Just collecting a debt."
Sasori added with a hint of regret, "No high-quality materials to be found."
"Then let's get to work." Diarmuid's lips curled. He reached out, tapped his pipe against the wall to knock out the ash, and stood up.
Standing on the very edge of the wall, he formed the Tiger hand seal in front of his chest.
The Tiger seal is the standard starting hand seal for Fire Release. The technique Diarmuid was using was indeed a Fire Release Ninjutsu. However, his understanding of shinobi arts had evolved since he first met Kakuzu. Simplifying hand seals was a natural progression; the next step was the realm of seal-less casting.
As the Tiger seal was set, the immense chakra within Diarmuid began to surge.
"Fire Release: Flame Bullet..." Diarmuid murmured. His chest expanded as if taking a deep breath.
Flame Bullet is a simple C-Rank Ninjutsu. Yet, when used by Diarmuid, it appeared like an S-Rank technique. In an instant, it expanded like a man-made sun, engulfing the entire Daimyo's Estate as the blast was spat forth.
"What?!"
The shinobi inside the Daimyo's Estate were horrified. What kind of jutsu is this?!
"Quick! Water Wall!" The shinobi captain reacted fastest, shouting as his hands flew through seals.
Immediately, the shinobi guarding the estate formed seals in unison. Over a dozen shinobi cast the technique together: "Water Release: Water Formation Wall!"
The ultra-high-temperature Flame Bullet slammed into the massive Water Formation Wall. Since Fire Release is naturally weak against Water Release, and given the combined effort of over ten shinobi, the Flame Bullet was actually blocked.
However, the extreme heat instantly evaporated a massive amount of water into a thick white mist. The entire Daimyo's Estate was plunged into a fog so dense that visibility dropped to nearly zero.
This was exactly what Diarmuid and his team had anticipated. The moment the white mist appeared, Kakuzu and Sasori charged in.
One couldn't see clearly in the fog, but the sounds of combat and the thuds of falling bodies echoed through the air.
The Daimyo's response was timely. Soon, a large number of shinobi and samurai joined the fray, entangling Kakuzu and Sasori. Meanwhile, the Daimyo was flanked by high-level shinobi. Among them, a sensory-type ninja was using a peculiar technique to mask their presence from outside detection, leading the Daimyo away in a rapid retreat.
Perhaps that technique truly could block chakra-based sensing.
But Diarmuid was using Observation Haki...
Soon, Diarmuid opened his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Found you."
With a light tap of his foot, a combination of Body Flicker and Soru propelled him forward at a speed invisible to the naked eye. With a flash of indigo lightning, Diarmuid vanished from the rooftop.
In the next breath, within the white mist, the captain of the squad escorting the Daimyo suddenly raised a hand. "Stop!"
He raised a kunai, staring at the figure emerging from the mist ahead. "Who are you? Why have you attacked the Daimyo's Estate?"
"Yorozuya, Rodriguez Diarmuid. The reason is simple: we accepted a mission to kill the Daimyo of the Land of Earth," Diarmuid said, stepping out of the fog with a smile.
"Do you have any idea what kind of grave crime this is?!" the shinobi barked.
"Doesn't matter," Diarmuid said softly.
As the words fell, he slowly drew the Kokorowatari from his waist. A heavy, dark, and malevolent aura instantly saturated the air. Combined with his actions, he truly looked like a villain of the highest order.
"Shun, take the Daimyo and go! Two squads stay with me to hold this bastard back!" the captain ordered.
The ninja named Shun nodded, turning to pull the panicked Daimyo away.
However, at that moment, an invisible and immense pressure of gravity suddenly descended upon them. This gravity was utilized with exquisite control. It no longer felt like a blunt, crushing force. Instead, it was perfectly calibrated to freeze them in place, pinning them just enough so they couldn't move, without crushing them into the dirt.
They simply could not budge.
"Curse you..." The captain couldn't even lift the kunai in his hand.
Diarmuid walked past them one by one, unhurried. As he passed each person, the Kokorowatari would flash, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Finally, he reached the Daimyo of the Land of Earth.
By now, the Daimyo's face was bloodless from terror. He looked at Diarmuid in a panic. "Don't kill me! I'll give you anything you want!"
"What I want, you happen to be unable to give," Diarmuid said.
He raised his blade.
It was at that exact moment that a voice cried out from the distance: "Wait! Don't do it, Diarmuid!"
But before the words could fully echo, Diarmuid's blade had already fallen.