Chapter 3 - 3: The Demon In The Classroom
Panic erupted in the classroom.
Every student stared at Youyu in absolute horror.
CRACK.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Haaah—!
Completely unbothered by the chaos around him, Youyu casually held his sheathed katana in one hand and the bottle of sake Kurenai had given him in the other.
With a slight clench of his teeth, he bit the cap off the bottle and started chugging.
Then, he let out a satisfied sigh.
"Did you all drink too much? I didn't even draw my sword."
Youyu laughed, still looking delightfully drunk.
"H-Huh? What...?"
The entire class rubbed their eyes in disbelief.
They looked at Youyu.
Then at Asuma.
Then back at Youyu.
Sure enough, his katana was still in its sheath.
And Asuma?
Completely unharmed, sitting dazed on the floor.
"How... how is that possible?! I saw it with my own eyes!"
Tanaka Hideichi wiped the cold sweat off his forehead.
He swore on his ninja career that just seconds ago, he had clearly seen Asuma get sliced in half.
The blood splatter.
The clean, brutal cut.
The horrified screams.
Everyone had seen it.
And yet...
The sword was never drawn.
And Asuma was still alive.
"W-Was that... an illusion?"
Tanaka looked at Youyu in shock.
That's the only explanation.
It had to be genjutsu—an illusion so powerful that it fooled an entire classroom full of elite students.
But that didn't make any sense.
Youyu was only eight years old.
He was already ridiculously talented in swordsmanship.
And now, he could use illusion techniques too?!
What kind of monster was he?!
And most of all... who the hell can use genjutsu while drunk?!
Tanaka was losing his mind.
Meanwhile, Asuma sat motionless, his face pale as a sheet.
His hands trembled as he touched his torso, still expecting to find a massive wound.
His breath was ragged. His vision blurred.
He could still feel it.
The pain.
The cold steel splitting his flesh.
The despair of facing death.
It was too real to be an illusion.
And yet, he was alive.
"I... I survived?"
He barely whispered the words, his voice hoarse from sheer terror.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
Youyu took another deep drink, exhaling in satisfaction.
Suddenly—
DING!
A familiar notification echoed in his mind.
[System Notification: The host has reached a state of drunken mastery, shocking the audience! Reward: Legendary Black Sword - Shusui.]
[The reward has been sent to the host's home.]
"A new sword?"
Youyu's drunken eyes flickered with curiosity.
"Shusui... that name sounds familiar."
For a moment, he tried to think.
Then he gave up.
"Meh, who cares? Why am I even thinking about this? The real problem is..."
He looked down at his now-empty bottle.
"...the sake is gone."
His mood instantly soured.
"Oi, you."
Youyu lazily turned toward Asuma, who was still sitting there, looking like he had just seen a ghost.
"You're blocking my way. Move."
Asuma blinked, his breath catching in his throat.
"If you don't, I might actually cut you this time."
In an instant—
"AHHHH!!!"
Like his life depended on it, Asuma sprinted back to his seat, tripping over himself in the process.
The Three Basic Jutsu consist of..."
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
Tanaka Hideichi continued teaching, his voice trembling slightly as he wrote on the blackboard.
But not a single student was paying attention.
Instead, their eyes kept darting toward a certain figure—
The boy who sat there, drinking like a seasoned drunkard.
The boys?
They stared at Youyu in a mix of fear and awe.
The girls?
Some were scared.
But others...
Their gazes lingered a little longer.
It was undeniable.
Even though he was a complete alcoholic, Youyu was ridiculously good-looking.
His messy black hair.
His sharp, narrow eyes, slightly clouded from intoxication.
His dangerously laid-back demeanor.
It was frustratingly unfair—the more he drank, the more attractive he became.
He should have looked sloppy.
He should have looked ridiculous.
And yet...
The opposite happened.
His presence only grew stronger, his drunken aura making him seem untouchable—like some kind of legendary rogue warrior.
Of course, Youyu didn't care.
Looks? Attention? None of that mattered.
The only thing that mattered was—
"Tch. I need more sake."
With that, he leaned back, bottle in hand, already thinking about his next drink.