Chapter 901

Captain America climbed the ship’s anchor chain with deliberate care, pulling himself over the railing before landing lightly on the deck.

The pirates who had originally occupied the vessel had already been eliminated by an unseen assailant. Their bodies had been dumped into the sea, leaving no trace of the slaughter.

That made Steve all the more cautious.

He crouched low and surveyed his surroundings.

The ship’s lights were still on, but against the endless darkness of the ocean, their faint glow seemed strangely ominous. More importantly, there wasn’t a single person in sight.

Neither the original crew nor the mysterious killers who had disposed of the pirates remained anywhere on the deck.

Steve wasn’t reassured.

If anything, the complete absence of movement made him more suspicious.

He was a veteran of countless battles. Anyone capable of silently eliminating an entire group of well-equipped, experienced pirates without alerting a single one of them was no ordinary opponent.

And a seemingly harmless environment like this was exactly where such an enemy would be most dangerous.

Steve moved slowly through the ship’s narrow corridors, examining every corner.

The slightest noise made him tense. The crash of waves against the hull, the occasional drip of water, even the faint creaking of the ship beneath his feet demanded his attention.

The elongated shadows cast by the overhead lights looked like black blades waiting to strike.

He proceeded carefully, never allowing his guard to drop.

Yet he encountered no one.

Even after making his way through the entire corridor and emerging onto a broad, open deck, Steve found no sign of the mysterious attackers.

If they hadn’t ambushed him in the narrow passageways, where the terrain offered plenty of opportunities for concealment, then an open deck with virtually nowhere to hide seemed even less likely to be their chosen battlefield.

His tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

Perhaps the assassins had already obtained whatever they came for and left.

It was a reasonable assumption.

Unfortunately, it was also a mistake.

The entire purpose of assassination was to kill an opponent before they realized they were in danger. Complicated terrain offered excellent opportunities, certainly, but there was another moment even more advantageous.

The instant an enemy relaxed and lowered their guard.

Whoosh!

A sudden chill ran down Steve’s spine.

Something had cut through the air behind him.

His enhanced reflexes took over before conscious thought could catch up. He drew his shield and spun around.

Clang!

Something struck the vibranium surface and ricocheted away.

Keeping most of his body behind the shield, Steve cautiously leaned his head to the side and glanced downward.

Only then did he see what had attacked him.

An arrow.

Its shaft was made from dark ebony wood, its feathers carefully selected black plumes without a single contrasting strand. Even the arrowhead had been painted black.

Against the darkness of the night, it was practically invisible.

Without his enhanced hearing and reaction speed, he might never have noticed it until it was already embedded in him.

Steve slowly raised his gaze, following the arrow’s trajectory.

His eyes eventually settled on a towering communications antenna.

It extended high into the night sky, easily overlooked from the deck. More importantly, its upper section stood beyond the reach of the ship’s lights.

Someone could hide up there without being seen.

It was also an excellent vantage point. From that height, an attacker could observe nearly the entire deck while remaining concealed.

There was only one problem.

Getting down.

The antenna was long, narrow, and smooth. Someone could cling to it using their arms and legs, but launching an attack while maintaining that position would be practically impossible.

Unless they had secured themselves with a rope.

The thought reminded Steve of something he’d once read about the Pacific War. Japanese snipers had occasionally tied themselves to branches high in difficult-to-climb trees, waiting for unsuspecting enemies to pass beneath them.

The tactic was effective, but it had an obvious drawback.

Once discovered, they couldn’t easily relocate. Many ended up being cut down by machine-gun fire.

Steve finished inspecting the antenna.

There was no one there.

Had he misjudged the attacker’s position? Or had the enemy somehow relocated in the few seconds since firing?

Crack!

The sky suddenly flashed.

A deep rumble of thunder followed.

The weather over the ocean could change without warning. Sudden storms were hardly unusual.

But this particular flash of lightning made Steve’s expression change dramatically.

Not because he was afraid of thunder.

The lightning had illuminated a shadow on the deck.

A human silhouette.

It was descending diagonally from behind him, moving from above with one hand extended and the other raised, gripping a long, narrow weapon.

The attacker was already upon him.

One hand had landed on his left shoulder.

The blade was only inches from his neck.

Danger!

Steve reacted instinctively.

He spun around and raised his shield.

SCRAAAAAPE!

The metallic shriek of a blade grinding against vibranium rang through the night.

The weapon slid off the shield’s surface, deflected away from its intended target. Using the momentum of the failed strike, the assassin twisted past Steve and landed several yards away.

Steve exhaled.

That had been close.

Inside his helmet, he could feel moisture running down his forehead. He was practically drenched in cold sweat.

His suspicions had been correct.

This was a genuine expert in the art of killing.

The technique had been so silent and precise that even he had nearly fallen victim to it. The pirates’ effortless slaughter suddenly made perfect sense.

Only now did Steve get a proper look at his attacker.

A woman.

Her long black hair was tied into a ponytail that hung down her back. Beneath her dark eyes, a black veil concealed most of her face.

She wore fitted black leather armor covered in an assortment of concealed weapons. A longbow was slung diagonally across her back.

The weapon she’d just used against him was a short blade roughly half a meter long.

Another sword, longer and still sheathed, rested behind her waist.

It was Ashina Noriko.

And, apparently, having failed to kill him with her opening strike, she had decided to abandon the attempt.

At least, that was what her relaxed posture suggested.

She sat sideways several yards away, apparently unconcerned by the man standing opposite her.

Her right hand held the short blade she’d used moments earlier. Her left rested casually on her knee, completely visible.

She regarded Steve with a calm, almost amused expression.

"Captain America. What an honor."

Steve tilted his head slightly.

"Japanese?"

Noriko blinked.

"Oh? I never expected someone as isolated from the modern world as you to be familiar with ninja culture. I suppose even an old-fashioned American like yourself can keep up with current trends."

"Actually, I’m not particularly familiar with it."

Steve gave her a faint smile.

"I recognized your nationality from your English accent."

"...Well, that’s embarrassing."

Noriko awkwardly used the tip of her short blade to adjust a strand of hair.

She had lived in America for years and spoke English fluently enough. Unfortunately, some things were difficult to overcome.

Apparently, no amount of practice could completely eliminate the unmistakable Japanese accent.

"That weapon of yours..."

Steve glanced at the blade in her hand.

"This?"

Noriko casually raised it.

"It’s called a wakizashi."

"I examined the bodies of the pirates you threw overboard," Steve said. "The wounds suggest they were killed with that weapon."

"That’s correct."

Noriko smiled.

Although Kaliya had accompanied her with several Mindless Ones, only Noriko herself had actually carried out the assassinations.

The others were there as insurance, ensuring that nothing unexpected could jeopardize the operation.

That was how Evenson operated.

Whenever possible, he preferred to push the odds of success as high as he could.

He had even forcibly revised one of Noriko’s family’s traditional maxims.

The original doctrine had glorified dying in the service of one’s mission.

Evenson’s replacement was considerably simpler:

Live with honor. Die without shame.

It wasn’t that he had suddenly become eager to preach his personal philosophy. Naturally, he wanted Noriko to complete her assignments even if doing so required risking her life.

What he didn’t want was for her to behave like some brainless fanatic who immediately committed ritual suicide whenever a mission went wrong.

Seriously.

Did she have any idea how difficult it was to recruit a suitable senior operative for the Black Chapter?

He’d finally managed to bring in someone competent, attractive, and genuinely useful.

And now she wanted to kill herself?

He wouldn’t even have time to find someone to perform the ritual decapitation.

At least give me a chance to recover my investment.

"What’s wrong, Captain?" Noriko asked, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Surely you aren’t feeling sorry for those men?"

She tilted her head.

"They were pirates. Murderers and thieves who preyed on innocent people for their own greed. They were thoroughly wicked men, and their souls were undoubtedly destined for the deepest pits of hell. Their deaths were simply divine retribution, delivered through my hands."

"Their guilt is a matter for international law to determine."

Steve shrugged.

"Though I can’t say I’m particularly concerned about that right now."

He looked directly at her.

"What I want to know is who you are, who you’re working for, and why you killed those men to get aboard this ship."

"Hmm..."

Noriko considered the question.

"Unfortunately, that’s outside the scope of what I’m authorized to discuss."

She shook her head apologetically.

"That’s a shame."

"Don’t worry. I’m not going to force you to answer."

Steve smiled.

"Really? How considerate of you. You’re quite a gentleman."

"Save your thanks. Once I capture you, I’ll have plenty of time to find out who you are."

"Well, I suppose there’s no avoiding an unpleasant conclusion."

Noriko sounded genuinely disappointed.

Then her expression changed.

"Captain America, you are a legendary hero. A man worthy of respect, and one of the Avengers who has helped defend this planet. Please forgive my earlier discourtesy in attempting to assassinate you."

Her voice remained respectful.

Her posture was almost deferential.

But the instant she finished speaking—

Her concealed left hand snapped outward.

Three shuriken flew straight toward Steve’s face.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Steve was ready.

A quick movement of his shield knocked all three projectiles aside.

But the moment he did, he felt an unexpected weight land on its surface.

Noriko had already leaped forward.

She was standing directly on his shield.

Both hands moved in a blur as she reversed her grip on the wakizashi, pointing its blade downward before plunging toward his head.

It was an impressive maneuver.

Unfortunately, Noriko was a relatively small, slender woman. Even with the added momentum of her descent, her weight was hardly enough to trouble Steve’s enhanced physique.

He simply tightened his arm and heaved upward.

Noriko was sent flying.

"You’re more challenging than I expected..."

She landed lightly, then slowly returned the wakizashi to its sheath.

Next, she reached over her shoulder and drew the longer sword from her back.

Its blade caught the faint deck lighting.

"Red Lotus般若. You’ve earned the right to be killed by this blade."

It was certainly an impressive weapon.

The guard was shaped like an intricately crafted lotus, while delicate dragon engravings ran along the length of the blade.

According to family tradition, it was the treasured sword of her ancestor, Ashina Isshin, the legendary Sword Saint.

Or rather...

That was the story.

A sword forged using the metallurgy of Japan’s Sengoku period was certainly valuable as an heirloom, but how much practical superiority could it really offer?

One shouldn’t put too much faith in the mystical bonuses supposedly bestowed by ancestral prestige.

Could it unleash a devastating wind slash? Could it split the earth with some legendary technique?

No?

Then perhaps it wasn’t quite as extraordinary as advertised.

Besides, the replacement sword Evenson had commissioned was objectively superior.

It faithfully reproduced the original weapon’s weight, balance, and engravings, while benefiting from modern precision manufacturing and advanced materials science.

The original family heirloom, meanwhile, had been taken into safekeeping.

Naturally, this arrangement also served as proof of Noriko’s loyalty.

—The words of a certain German regent who preferred not to disclose his identity.

Noriko sincerely hoped she wouldn’t discover her ancestral sword being auctioned on the black market a few days later.

That would be unfortunate.

"Captain America..."

She gripped the long sword with both hands and assumed a fighting stance.

"You’re not particularly likable. But strangely enough, you’re not particularly unpleasant either."

"Hmph."

Steve answered with a cold snort.

He raised his shield and charged.

Once he was within striking distance, his right arm swung sideways, bringing the shield toward Noriko’s head with considerable force.

Noriko leaned backward, narrowly avoiding the blow.

Her sword rose in a flash before coming crashing down.

CLANG!

Steve caught the strike on his shield.

And then the two of them began exchanging blows.

Clang! Clang! Clang-clang!

The deck filled with the ringing of metal against metal.

Anyone listening without knowing what was happening might have assumed someone had opened a blacksmith’s workshop aboard the ship.

"Ha!"

Noriko delivered another powerful overhead strike.

Steve blocked it without difficulty.

A shield offered a considerably larger defensive surface than a sword, after all. Against an opponent relying primarily on direct attacks, its advantages were obvious.

But Noriko wasn’t relying on direct attacks.

Her blade suddenly changed direction.

Instead of continuing downward, it slid along the shield’s surface. Her wrists twisted, turning the descending strike into a horizontal cut aimed directly at Steve’s exposed waist.

Steve reacted immediately.

He launched himself into a forward somersault, allowing the blade to pass beneath him.

As he came around, he swung his shield backward toward Noriko.

She didn’t even bother turning around.

Instead, she dropped forward and rolled several times across the deck, narrowly avoiding the counterattack.

Steve seized the opportunity.

With Noriko’s back still turned, he unleashed his signature technique.

The Flying Disc of Justice.

Or, more accurately, he threw his shield.

The spinning vibranium disc tore through the air toward her back.

Noriko heard it coming and immediately bent backward.

The shield passed over her body.

But Steve was already smiling.

The projectile struck the wall behind her.

Then, through the thoroughly unreasonable application of Newtonian physics, it ricocheted and came flying straight back along its original path.

Noriko heard the returning shield and immediately realized something was wrong.

She sprang upward.

Instead of trying to dodge it, she landed directly on its surface.

The shield continued spinning at tremendous speed, carrying her around like a human gyroscope.

Her sword blurred into a whirlwind of steel.

For a moment, she looked like the center of a miniature Blade Storm.

Steve wasn’t impressed.

He slid forward, lowered his stance, and caught the shield from underneath.

Then he thrust upward.

Noriko was thrown off once again.

Steve recovered his shield.

But before he could properly reset his stance, Noriko’s long blade was already descending toward him.

He barely managed to raise his shield in time.

CLANG!

Noriko gave a faint snort.

This time, she used the sword’s guard to hook around the edge of Steve’s shield.

With a sharp upward motion, she twisted her weapon and forced the shield aside.

Steve’s defenses opened completely.

Danger!

A tiny sound cut through the air.

Pfft.

A muted report.

Noriko, who had been pressing the advantage, suddenly jerked.

A spray of blood burst from her body.

Her strength vanished.

She collapsed onto the deck, blood spreading beneath her in a widening pool.

At that moment—

Flap! Flap! Flap!

A parachute descended beside Steve.

Brock Rumlow landed on the deck with practiced control, one hand gripping his firearm and the other managing the parachute.

He was clearly responsible for the shot that had saved Steve at the last possible moment.

"How would you survive without me?"

Steve took a deep breath, finally allowing some of the tension to leave his body.

"Thanks."

He glanced toward Noriko’s fallen figure.

"I’ve never fought anyone quite like her. She wasn’t as strong as me, but her assassination techniques and swordsmanship were exceptional."

He shook his head slightly.

"She nearly caught me off guard several times."