"Don't you know that this behavior is disrespectful to the shinobi of Konoha?"
Miyamoto Yukie's voice rang out, trying to muster authority.
Everyone in Kirigakure burst into laughter.
The thick mist swirled around them, the sound of their amusement echoing eerily through the battlefield.
Biwa Jūzō's cold sneer cut through the air.
"The Wild Bait Man is right. Kill them all."
No hesitation. No mercy.
In a flash, Jūzō's figure vanished into the fog. The gleam of the Kubikiribōchō — the Executioner's Blade — flashed once, and before Miyamoto Yukie could even react, his head was severed from his body.
Blood splattered across the dirt. The commander of Konoha's front line was dead — without landing a single strike.
The rest of the Mist-nin followed immediately, striking with brutal precision.
On the other side, the Konoha ranks froze in shock.
Their leader — gone in an instant.
"What… what the hell…?" someone whispered.
Panic broke out like wildfire. The young Genin screamed, fleeing in all directions, tripping over one another in their terror. They were barely more than children — academy graduates who had never seen blood before.
In truth, they were only cannon fodder.
Back in the academy, they had dreamed of glory, of becoming heroes like the Sannin or the White Fang. But on the battlefield, their illusions shattered in seconds.
They were just kids — fragile, untested, and utterly unprepared.
Even a stiff breeze could knock them over. How could they possibly face the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist?
> "This is Konoha?"
"What a joke! Kill them all!"
Raiga Kurosuki laughed, his twin blades crackling with lightning as he slaughtered an entire Konoha squad.
The Watermelon Mountain Pufferfish Ghost frowned slightly.
"They're just fodder. There's no pride in killing such weaklings."
Biwa Jūzō turned his cold gaze toward him.
"Enough talk. Finish off the survivors. Leave a few men to sweep through the Land of Whirlpools and eliminate the rest of Konoha's cannon fodder."
He turned to the others.
"The rest of you — secure boats immediately. We'll move to the Land of Fire before their elites have time to respond."
His tone hardened.
"These Genin are bait — Konoha's way of stalling us. We won't give them that chance. This is our best opportunity to strike!"
"Also," he added, his eyes narrowing, "send a messenger to the village. Inform the Mizukage of our success. Tell them to dispatch the Jinchūriki. We'll crush Konoha before they can even breathe."
The Mist-nin roared in agreement.
They understood exactly what this meant. Konoha had thrown expendable rookies at them — a delaying tactic, nothing more.
And now, Kirigakure was determined to make them pay for their arrogance.
---
Three Days Later
Deep within the forests of the Land of Whirlpools, a small fire crackled inside a damp cave.
Around it sat three figures — Uchiha Jin, Nara Kazama, and Kudo Nobuyuki — their faces illuminated by the flickering light.
Each of them chewed on a Bingan Pill, their expressions grim and exhausted.
"I never expected Ishikawa Itsuki to die like that," Kudo Nobuyuki sighed.
Nara Kazama remained calm, his voice even.
"When he chose to stay behind at the outpost instead of retreating with us, his fate was sealed."
"The situation was dire. Kirigakure had already mobilized nearly four thousand shinobi, hidden across the Land of Whirlpools. And Konoha didn't even know."
He adjusted his glasses, his tone cold but logical.
"Important intelligence couldn't be delayed just for Ishikawa Itsuki's sake. Even if he were alive, he'd agree our decision was right. His sacrifice wasn't in vain."
"He'll be honored on Konoha's memorial stone — remembered as a hero who gave his life for the village."
Kudo Nobuyuki blinked, dumbfounded.
"…Wait. What?"
He stared at Kazama in disbelief.
Just a few days ago, everyone despised Ishikawa Itsuki. They ignored him, mocked him — some even wished for his death.
Now, suddenly, he was a hero?
Kudo felt his brain stutter.
How could Nara Kazama twist reality so casually — and make it sound righteous?
He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
If Ishikawa Itsuki's ghost were here, he'd probably beat them senseless.
And yet, deep down, Kudo understood something crucial: this was why the Nara Clan held such power in Konoha.
Their words could turn shame into honor, failure into strategy — and the dead into martyrs.
Kudo could only mutter in awe, "This guy's mouth is a jutsu of its own…"
Even Uchiha Jin, who knew Kazama well, couldn't help but sigh. The man was terrifying in his own way.
During those three days, the trio had evaded pursuit countless times, cutting through Kirigakure patrols and killing thirty-one enemy shinobi.
They had passed by the ruins of their old outpost — and found Ishikawa Itsuki's body.
But they hadn't taken it with them.
If his corpse was brought back, the Yamanaka Clan could easily extract fragments of memory — even from a damaged brain.
Better to leave no trace at all.