As the villagers knelt and begged for rcy, the Yakuza leader looked on with surprise. He hadn't expected the re ntion of "Shogun" to bring such swift submission. Seeing everyone on their knees fueled his arrogance.
"Do you think just apologizing will be enough?" he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "You've offended us, which ans you've offended the Shogun!"
He waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the villagers' pale, fearful faces. Turning to his lackeys, he ordered with an evil grin, "Search every house! These peasants must have been planning a rebellion all along."
Without hesitation, he strode toward the nearest house, kicking the door open. Inside, the sound of smashing furniture and desperate pleas for rcy echoed out. Emboldened by their leader's actions, the other Yakuza mbers split into groups, storming into hos with loud whoops of excitent.
The peaceful village descended into chaos. Screams of terror rang out from several hos, mingling with the shouts of the Yakuza and the crash of looted belongings.
The villagers, who had been trembling on their knees, froze at the sounds of their loved ones' cries. Their initial fear gave way to rising anger. One by one, their expressions darkened as the realization set in—they had no choice but to fight.
Among them, a tall, dark-skinned young man was the first to act. He rose to his feet, ignoring the others' warnings, and picked up a harpoon from the ground.
"Naoko!" he shouted, his voice thick with desperation as he ran toward his ho.
When he arrived, the sight before him made his blood boil. Two thugs were tearing at his 13-year-old sister's clothes, their leering faces filled with malice.
The young man's vision blurred with rage. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, gripping the harpoon tightly. With a primal yell, he plunged it into the back of one of the n. The thug let out a choked gasp, his eyes widening in shock before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
The second Yakuza, splattered with his companion's blood, froze in place, his brain struggling to process what had just happened. The young man didn't give him a chance to recover. He tackled him to the floor, pinning him down.
With his left hand, he gripped the man's throat, and with his right, he began raining down punches. Each blow landed with brutal force, blood spraying from the Yakuza's face. The man's feeble attempts to resist grew weaker until his head slumped to the side, unconscious.
But the young man wasn't done. Seething with fury, he grabbed the Yakuza's sword and plunged it into the man's body repeatedly. He didn't stop until the body lay motionless, soaked in blood.
"Brother!" a small, trembling voice cried out. His sister, Naoko, threw herself into his arms, tears streaming down her face.
Unlike her brother, Naoko had been shielded from the harshness of the world. Her fair skin and sweet, innocent deanor reflected the care her brother had given her. But now, her disheveled clothes and tear-streaked face told a different story.
The young man patted her back gently, his rage simring beneath his comforting words. "Naoko, listen to ," he said firmly. "Go hide in the closet. Take this knife. If anyone cos in, close your eyes and stab."
"B-but, brother…" Naoko clutched his arm, her voice filled with fear and resistance. She didn't want him to leave, knowing the danger that awaited outside.
He knelt down, pressing the bloodied knife into her hands. "Do as I say. I'll handle this."
Breaking free from her grasp, he picked up another sword from the ground and stepped outside. Naoko watched him go, tears streaming down her cheeks. She sniffed, trying to steady herself, and finally retreated to the closet as instructed, clutching the knife tightly.
"Brother… co back," she whispered.
The young man stepped into a scene of utter chaos. Villagers had risen up, finally throwing aside their fear to protect their loved ones. Ard with kitchen knives, sticks, and fishing gear, they fought fiercely against the invaders.
Several Yakuza mbers had already been injured or killed in the surprise resistance. However, years of street brawling and combat experience gave the Yakuza the upper hand. They quickly regrouped, drawing their swords and striking back with deadly efficiency.
The villagers, despite their courage, were no match for the Yakuza' brutality. Their lack of combat training and poor weapons left them vulnerable. Within minutes, the tide turned. Several villagers fell, blood staining the dirt streets.
The situation worsened as the Yakuza leader entered the fray.
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