Japan.
The sun set as clouds steamed and blazed.
On the ridges not far from Mount Fuji sat a distinctive luxury villa.
From this villa one could gaze across distant mountain lines at the picturesque Mount Fuji.
Saori Kido sat on a white bench on the terrace, elegantly sipping afternoon tea. Her slender, graceful neck was framed against snow-capped Mount Fuji.
In the distance, Mount Fuji hung upside down like an ancient folding fan: the snowy peak its ribs, the blue-green forests its face, turned toward bustling modern Tokyo, inscribing an ancient, devout faith.
The vast mountain's natural grandeur exuded a sense of deep antiquity that stirred solemnity—and the sacred.
For centuries, Mount Fuji has been revered by the Yamato people as a holy peak.
Saori Kido grew up under its gaze, especially watching its exquisite sunsets.
In front of Saori lay the latest Tokyo Daily.
"Hosted in Tokyo by Saori Kido, granddaughter of the late Mitsumasa Kido, president of the Graude Foundation, the Galaxian Wars will officially begin. Contestants are Bronze Saints returning from training around the world, and the winner will receive the Sagittarius Gold Cloth..."
"Miss, many Bronze Saints are already heading this way. Several have set foot in Japan. The Galaxian Wars should proceed on schedule."
Saori's butler, Tatsumi Tokumaru, approached and reported.
"Very good. I believe by next week all these Bronze Saints will have gathered, just in time for the Galaxian Wars."
Saori nodded, bright eyes turning back to Mount Fuji. Her red lips parted lightly:
"Holding the Galaxian Wars is a major event for the Graude Foundation and my grandfather's wish in life. It must be held on schedule—to fulfill his lifelong wish."
Tatsumi hesitated. "Miss, there have been troubling rumors near Mount Fuji lately. Many people have been committing suicide at the foot of the mountain—almost daily. It's very strange."
"For your safety, we should move elsewhere."
Tatsumi proposed.
"Tatsumi, with me here, nothing will happen to Miss Saori."
A defiant voice rang out.
"Jabu, you alone? Can you protect the young lady?"
Tatsumi shot back, clearly annoyed.
Facing him stood a blond teen, fourteen or fifteen at most.
Though there was a trace of youth in his eyes, he radiated a heroic air, tall and imposing.
He wore a pale violet Cloth, with a single horn on the helmet.
"Hmph. I, Jabu, am a bona fide Saint. Why wouldn't I be able to protect the young lady?"
Jabu tapped the Cloth on his chest, brimming with confidence.
"A Saint? Boasting the moment you're back. You're still the little punk you used to be. Want a beating?"
Tatsumi's eyes flashed.
"What's that? You want to spar with me?"
Jabu pointed at his Unicorn Bronze Cloth. "If an ordinary person fights me, they could die."
"Quiet."
Saori spoke. Her voice wasn't loud, but it immediately silenced both men.
She didn't blame them. Tatsumi Tokumaru was the butler who had watched her grow up—quick-tempered, but unwaveringly loyal.
And Jabu was the first Saint to answer her call, utterly obedient to her—more so than a servant.
She appreciated that, which was why she kept Jabu close.
"Tatsumi, the Black Dragon Society's gift has arrived. The sender requests the young lady examine it personally."
A report crackled from Tatsumi's radio.
Saori nodded slightly in assent.
Soon, a box was brought before Saori.
It was a high-end gift box, tied with gaudy red roses. Beneath the flashy wrapping was an exquisitely carved large wooden chest.
Whatever lay within looked quite valuable.
Creak!
Tatsumi carefully lifted the lid—only for a blood-red scene to greet them.
Saori took a single glance. Her face went ashen in an instant. "Close it!"
Tatsumi slammed it shut at once, his expression exceedingly dark, the muscles in his face twisting. He cursed loudly, "Damn Black Dragon Society!"
Jabu was likewise stunned.
He had just seen that within the seemingly luxurious box lay a huge, bloody horse head.
The head was familiar.
It belonged to Miss Saori's beloved Akhal-Teke, "Feixue"!
The Black Dragon Society killed the young lady's favorite horse?
Miss Saori had loved small animals since childhood—especially horses—and loved to ride. He remembered how, when she was little, she liked to ride on his back. He still hadn't forgotten that feeling.
And now they had killed her horse.
Unforgivable.
He, Jabu, would never forgive it!
"These damned gangsters killed Feixue—and they're still eyeing the Gold Cloth."
Tatsumi clenched his fists.
"This is Japan."
Tears glimmered in Saori's eyes and her voice trembled slightly. "There are only a few forces obstructing the Galaxian Wars. The Black Dragon Society is one of them."
"They want to buy that Gold Cloth for a high price."
"I refused them repeatedly."
"And this is their despicable response."
"Miss, let me handle this."
"Damn the Black Dragon Society. Let me go, I'll wipe them out."
Jabu's Cosmo flared as he stepped forward to request permission.
He sensed the young lady's unhappiness and couldn't bear to see her cry.
"No. You must not act rashly. Endure it."
"The Galaxian Wars begin in a few days. Nothing can go wrong. The Black Dragon Society will likely exploit any gap to stir up trouble."
Saori regained her composure. "I have ways to deal with them. Neither of you needs to act."
Yes, killing her beloved horse was a threat.
These gangs wouldn't dare strike openly, so they resorted to covert intimidation.
She, Saori Kido, would remember this debt.
After the Galaxian Wars, she would repay it slowly.
"Miss, dinner is ready,"
Tatsumi said as the sun set and darkness gathered.
"I have no appetite today. Come with me to bury Feixue."
Saori said, lifting the heavy wooden chest.
Jabu moved to help, but her look stopped him.
He and Tatsumi followed Miss Saori downstairs, out the door, and toward Mount Fuji.
Saori planned to bury her horse's head in a flowered patch facing Mount Fuji.
Soon, Saori reached a small grove bursting with blossoms. She opened the earth and buried the head. Suddenly, a fierce, gloomy wind swept down from the sky.
It blasted their faces so hard they couldn't open their eyes.
When they finally looked again, the sight before them made them jump. A row of corpses had appeared in the grove.
Their necks were stretched, mouths agape, tongues lolling long enough to touch their chins. Nooses were tight around their throats as they hung from high branches, all with the look of the hanged.
There were at least twenty or thirty of them!
W-what... what on earth happened?
(End of Chapter)
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