Four figures surged out of the mist.
Masked in black cloth and wielding blades, they kept their stances low and their strides asured—at the very least, they had been trained.
Murakami Takuya drew his blade three inches, but after getting a clear look at the enemy, he pushed it back into the scabbard. He rested his hand on the hilt and leaned his shoulder against a tree trunk.
His aning was clear.
Kitahara Kaede scanned the group.
Four n. No chakra fluctuations. Their weapons were ordinary forged longswords, and while their movent showed so foundation, it wasn't professional.
He took a half-step back.
He had no need for opponents like these, but Tsunade and Jiraiya did.
"Tsunade, Jiraiya, they're yours."
Before the words had even left his mouth, Tsunade had already charged forward.
As the first shadow swung its blade down, Kaede noticed Tsunade's eyes—she wasn't looking at the sword; she was watching the opponent's shoulder.
The shoulder moves first, then the blade follows. It was the thod of judging an attack that Teacher Hiruzen had taught her. She had mastered it thoroughly.
Slipping past the edge of the blade, she slamd her right fist directly into the man's face.
There was no hesitation in that punch.
The sound of knuckles colliding with a cheekbone was short and muffled. The man's head snapped back violently, and he slamd into a tree trunk before sliding down, motionless.
A second attacker circled around from the side, his blade aiming straight for her ribs.
Tsunade ducked low, sweeping her right leg to trip him. She flipped over him and pinned him down, her knee driving hard into the wrist holding the sword while her elbow crashed downward.
A short, stifled groan followed.
Fast and decisive. The entire process took less than ten seconds.
On the other side, things were much more chaotic.
Jiraiya lunged forward with a posture resembling a sparrow that had just learned to fly. He thrust his kunai, but he missed, rely grazing the opponent's shoulder and slicing through a layer of cloth to leave a shallow cut.
Wincing in pain, the attacker swung back with a horizontal slash.
Jiraiya leaped backward, but his heel caught on a wet stone, sending him crashing flat on his back. His head hit the ground, and his vision whited out for a second.
The blade ca hacking down.
He raised his kunai to block.
Steel clashed against steel, sparks spraying across his face. The impact sent a numbing vibration through the webbing of his thumb, nearly knocking the weapon from his hand. The blade beca lodged in the notch of the kunai.
The two of them stared at each other through the crossed iron for less than a second. The attacker's eyes were visible behind the black cloth—wide and bloodshot.
He was afraid.
But a frightened man is often more dangerous than a calm one, because they fight with everything they have.
The man pressed down with all his strength. Jiraiya's arm trembled, and the kunai sank inch by inch. The blade was now only a few inches from the tip of his nose.
He rolled to the side.
The sword slamd into the muddy ground where his head had just been, sinking two inches deep.
Without ti to think, Jiraiya scrambled up and thrust his kunai forward with a tight grip.
This ti, he didn't miss.
The kunai t almost no resistance as it pierced the clothing, but it was different once it hit muscle—a viscous resistance traveled from the blade back into his palm.
The man froze.
The sword slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground.
A single drop of blood slid down the kunai and landed on the back of Jiraiya's hand.
The fourth attacker watched as his three companions fell in a matter of seconds, unable to even hold their blades steady. He turned and bolted.
With a flick of his wrist, Kaede released a shuriken.
The man lunged forward two steps, his legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the grass.
Kaede lowered his hand.
He hadn't moved from his spot the entire ti. His gaze had remained fixed on Tsunade from start to finish—he had thrown the shuriken with his left hand while his right hand remained gripped around a kunai.
If any of those four had posed a genuine threat to Tsunade, he would have reached her before anyone else.
But it wasn't necessary. Tsunade had handled it herself.
Silence returned to the camp.
The sound of the creek beca clear again, exactly as it had been a few minutes prior, as if nothing had happened.
Tsunade's right fist remained clenched.
Her hand felt slightly unresponsive—those two punches had been so fast that her body had finished the action before her mind had fully processed it.
She looked down at the man on the ground. His chest was still heaving, but the breaths were shallow, growing shallower by the second.
During training, she fought straw dummies. When she was done, she just dusted off her hands and walked away. Straw dummies didn't make noise, didn't collapse backward, and didn't let you feel the sensation of bone shifting out of place against your knuckles.
She didn't speak. She took a deep breath and lowered her fist.
Nearby, Jiraiya was doubled over, vomiting. He leaned on his knees, retched a couple more tis, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
He still hadn't put down his kunai; the blood on it had already begun to darken. He stared at the weapon, his lips twitching.
"...Easier... than I thought," he whispered, as if speaking only to himself.
It wasn't a boast.
It was the realization of sothing that terrified him—killing a person was far easier than he had imagined.
He thought he wouldn't be able to do it; he thought there would be a mont of hesitation. But there wasn't. When the kunai sank in, his hand had been steady.
He didn't know how to process that.
Kaede glanced at them. He said nothing.
The first ti he had been on a battlefield, he had been even worse off than the two of them.
He walked toward the bodies and knelt down to flip over the first man's coat. There was no forehead protector and no ninja tool pouch, but a hidden pocket had been sewn into the inside of the belt.
Using his kunai to pry it open, he poured out three military pills. He picked one up and slled it.
These weren't civilian imitations; they were standard ninja village issue.
He checked the second and third bodies—military pills, bandages, hemostatic powder. Standard field supplies; nothing was missing.
Kaede stood up.
"Sothing's wrong."
He tossed the military pills to Murakami Takuya.
"These n have no chakra, but their equipnt is ninja-grade. These military pills are village-issued; civilians don't have access to the raw materials."
Takuya caught them, glanced at them, and didn't deny it.
"Wandering ronin wouldn't carry these things. Nor would they just happen to stumble upon our camp," Kaede added.
Takuya remained silent for a few seconds.
"Good judgnt." He paused. "But it's still just a theory. We can't withdraw until we have the full story."
His gaze shifted past Kaede to Tsunade and Jiraiya a few ters away.
"Let them recover for a mont."
Kaede walked over to Tsunade. She was still standing, her back straight, her chin slightly raised. This was her habit whenever she didn't want people to notice she was shaken.
He took a water canteen from his pouch, unscrewed the cap, and offered it to her.
Tsunade glanced at him. She didn't take it.
Instead, she pulled her own canteen from her bag, unscrewed it, and took a large gulp. Then, she poured the remaining water over her right hand and rubbed it.
"Let's go," she said, capping the canteen. No unnecessary words.
Kaede put his canteen away without a word.
She wasn't rejecting him. She just didn't want anyone handing her anything right now; she didn't want to be treated as soone who needed comfort.
Jiraiya approached them as well. He finally put down his kunai, wiped it clean on the grass, and slid it back into his pouch. His movents were half as fast as usual, but his hands were no longer shaking.
He looked at Kaede and opened his mouth to speak. Ordinarily, he would have rambled for ten minutes. But this ti, he chewed his lip for a long while, and not a single word ca out.
In the end, he simply pulled a notebook from his pocket—the one labeled *Heroic Entrance Poses*—glanced at it, and shoved it into the very bottom of his bag.
"Move out," Takuya commanded, facing east. "Twelve kiloters ahead. We reach the periter before dawn."
The four of them packed up the camp. Their movents were swift and silent.
The horizon was still dark, but the clouds in the east were beginning to turn grey.
Tsunade walked in front of Kaede, her ponytail swaying gently with her steps, her rhythm no different than usual.
Jiraiya trailed behind the others, lugging the oversized pack he had carried throughout the journey. His footsteps felt heavier now than they had on the way here. The rhythmic crunch of four pairs of feet echoed along the gravel path as the sound of the streaming water gradually faded into the distance.
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