"The first mission," Kenshi said evenly, "eliminate the bandits. Leave none alive."
His gaze swept over them, steady, unflinching. "Hesitation will kill you. When your blade wavers, repeat the mission in your heart. Grip the hilt. That is the start of your shinobi life." Then he vanished into the night.
Retsu went first, slipping into the nameless mountain camp. Renji and Yan exchanged a silent look, then followed.
The night was hushed. Insects hummed. Corpses dropped without sound. The three moved like shadows, cutting down the outer watch.
At the huts, Retsu laid traps around the perimeter. Renji slipped inside, Sharingan flaring, weaving illusions into the dreams of sleeping men and women before sliding steel through their throats. Yan ghosted in through windows, hand scrolling shuriken across the dark like quiet rain.
One hut after another fell silent. Blood stung the air. At the final two, Renji gestured toward Retsu. The boy nodded, storming in head-on while Yan cleared the last. By the time Renji finished checking for hidden tunnels or chambers, both had already finished.
They stripped traps, erased prints, and slipped back to the rendezvous. Kenshi was waiting, watching them with unreadable eyes.
"Better than I expected," he said. "Even the children and elders among them, gone. That kind of resolve is rare at your age."
His voice hardened.
"Renji, you didn't check for traps before entering. Yan, your speed was good, but you ignored subtlety, you risked waking them, while Renji used illusions to prevent that exact thing. Retsu, your setup was excellent, but barging in headlong was reckless. If one of those huts held a jōnin, you'd be dead. This time the enemy was weak. Next time… maybe not."
Then his tone shifted, almost gentle.
"Don't carry guilt. A shinobi's life is violence and blood. Hesitation puts your comrades in the grave. Look at each other. Would you let your brother die because of your mercy? As for their sins, leave it to the Shinigami to judge. Our duty is the mission."
Renji's voice broke the silence. "Sensei, what if completing the mission means my comrades die? Do you choose the mission… or them?"
Kenshi paused. His eyes softened.
"I'd choose them. We are Uchiha. Our comrades are family, our blood. A hundred missions are worth less than one living Uchiha. People are the clan's true strength. If teammates aren't clan…" He shrugged. "Depends on my mood."
Renji blinked, surprised. That answer was pure Uchiha clan above all. He thought bitterly of Shisui, of Itachi, twisted away by Hiruzen's honeyed poison. The Will of Fire… how many Uchiha prodigies did it burn alive in the name of politics?
Kenshi rose. "Enough. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, onward."
Dawn. Fresh air, clean sky. Spirits lifted, until Kenshi raised a hand.
"Stop. Fighting, west."
They darted into the forest. The clash of steel and chakra rang louder. From concealment, they saw Root operatives, masked, cold slaughtering three rogue-nin. The rogues fought to the last breath, dragging one Root down with them. The survivors slumped, bleeding, cleaning blades.
Retsu looked at Kenshi. Should they intervene? Kenshi stayed silent, giving only a signal: hold.
Then Renji's hand cut through the air attack.
Kenshi's lips curved in approval.
Yan and Retsu hesitated, but followed.
"Shadow Shuriken Clone Jutsu!" three voices hissed.
A storm of steel rained down. Root ninja staggered into Retsu's mire:
"Earth Release: Swamp of the Underworld!"
They sank screaming.
Lightning flared. "Sword Leap Flame!" "Crescent Moon Dance!"
Two bodies fell in pieces. The field went silent.
Yan and Retsu moved to incinerate the corpses. Renji stopped them.
"Cut the heads. Burn only those. Leave the scene messy, make it look rushed. Search the rogues. Anything worth killing them for."
They obeyed. A sealed scroll surfaced from a corpse's vest. No time to open it.
"Now we bait the hunters," Renji said. "Trap the path. If their numbers are light, we strike. If many, we flee. Trust me. Explanations come later."
Kenshi didn't interfere. His silence was approval enough.
They set traps. Minutes later, more Root arrived. They studied the battlefield, muttered, then followed east.
Trigger. Shuriken blazed from hidden grooves. Explosions tore the ground. Smoke bombs dropped from above.
Renji's shout cut through:
"Fire Release: Great Dragon Flame!"
"Wind Release: Gust!"
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"
The jutsu twisted into one monstrous storm: Firestorm Cyclone.
When the smoke cleared, the forest floor was painted in blood. Six Root operatives dead in two seconds. Kenshi never lifted a finger.
"Clean it," Renji ordered. "Then move. We'll make up lost ground, finish the mission before Root circles back."
They torched both battlefields into blackened wasteland and ran.
By nightfall, they reached the next target. This time, Kenshi moved alone. Within minutes, flames roared from the mountain bandit hideout. Screams choked, then silence. Only firelight painted the dark.
Later, ten more Root arrived at the burned sites.
"Captain," one reported. "No survivors. Nothing but ash."
The leader crouched, fingers brushing scorched dirt.
"This isn't natural fire. It's jutsu. At least three different signatures. One area was hit by a high-level combination technique, not a solo fire release. A coordinated squad."
He stood, mask tilted toward the horizon.
"Find every Konoha team of three or more. Prioritize fire users."
"Yes, sir." The Root scattered.
Alone, the captain whispered under his mask:
"Dou… I'll find who did this. I swear it."
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