Ambush
The speed with which Shirō and his team ended the skirmish left the observing samurai dumbfounded.
Thirty-plus shinobi — cut down in a single coordinated strike.
"This is… unbelievable!"
"I told you not to underestimate them," Nakamura replied, his tone calm. Outwardly, at least. Inside, even he was unsettled.
Though Shirō's team had drilled this formation countless times in private, this was their first true battle using it. Nakamura hadn't expected the effect to be this devastating. Still, as a jōnin of the Leaf, he needed to maintain composure — both for his students' morale and his own pride.
Shirō wasted no time. As soon as the enemy was wiped out, he formed the seals for the Shadow Clone Technique. One clone leapt onto the back of a summoned bird, soaring skyward to extend his line of sight with Clairvoyance, while his real body and Shikamaru knelt under the cover of Blue Snake, cycling chakra to recover stamina.
No hidden reinforcements appeared. When his chakra was restored, the clone dispelled with no warning signs to report. To be thorough, Shirō summoned Ryūchi Cave's serpents to scour the terrain. Only after their reports confirmed the area was clean did the group press onward.
The samurai escort's attitude shifted completely after the display. The once-proud youths now fell in line with Shirō's commands, their deference genuine.
But the ambush had only been the opening act. From the moment they crossed the border into the Land of Rivers, enemies kept harassing them. Though none of the attackers posed real danger, Shirō couldn't shake a gnawing sense of dread. Something about these battles felt off.
He questioned his comrades, but Shikamaru and the others had sensed nothing unusual. Though they trusted his instincts, they had no concrete evidence to support his unease.
Shirō knew better. His intuition had been sharpened through meditation, battle, and training — not to mention, luck had always seemed to favor him. He replayed the last few encounters in his head until he found it: the jōnin from the first two skirmishes.
That man had worn a Sunagakure forehead protector and fought with two supposed chūnin allies. Their clothes bore signs of battle, leading Nakamura to assume they were silencing witnesses after completing a mission. He repelled them, treating it as standard operating procedure. Missions often required eliminating witnesses, after all, and chasing them might have exposed the minister they were guarding.
But the detail that snagged Shirō's mind was the headband.
Most outsiders couldn't distinguish the subtleties of forehead protectors, but shinobi could — and the way this man fought was wrong. Shirō had internalized the combat styles of Suna-nin during the Chūnin Exams, having faced and projected much of their ninjutsu. That man had been imitating the Sand's movements, but the imitation lacked the instinctive precision of a true Suna shinobi.
Which meant his identity was forged.
And if his identity was false, then his excuse of "silencing witnesses" was also false. Their real target hadn't been civilians at all — it had been them.
The steady stream of weak ambushes now made sense. Their enemies weren't trying to destroy them outright. They were collecting intelligence.
Unfortunately, realizing it now changed nothing. Neither the chūnin nor the jōnin had displayed distinctive jutsu or bloodline traits. With so little information, Shirō couldn't pin down which faction they belonged to. Worse, if his hunch was correct, their own techniques had already been observed and catalogued.
Without hesitation, he shared his suspicions with Nakamura — carefully omitting details about his Projection-based analysis.
Nakamura and the others listened but could propose no clear countermeasure. They were at a disadvantage on every front: unfamiliar terrain, enemies with superior intel, and the burden of protecting a dignitary whose safety limited their maneuverability.
Timing wasn't on their side either. While most of the team had varied chakra affinities, they couldn't capitalize on terrain with elemental advantage like native Suna shinobi could with wind and sand.
It was a precarious situation. They slowed their march, advancing with maximum caution. Every road, grove, and canyon was scouted in advance by Shirō's serpents before the group proceeded.
And yet, the expected escalation never came. Only small fry ambushed them, and those Shirō deliberately left for Shikamaru to dispatch, minimizing how much the enemy could learn about his own techniques.
No further serious attacks arrived. Against all expectations, they reached the capital of the Land of Rivers without incident.
Staring at the looming city walls, Shirō frowned. After all his grim speculation and strategizing, their arrival felt… too smooth.
So what was the point of all those theatrics before?
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