Moonlight spilled through the thinning mist.
Fujimoto Tōma stood atop the carriage, calmly studying the three genin below. Their guarded stares earned a silent nod of approval. At least they weren’t green enough to trust someone just because he wore a Leaf headband.
"Who are you?" the lead genin demanded, kunai raised.
"Team Tenzo," Tōma replied flatly.
The tension eased immediately. "Then... how’s the situation? Is the craftsman safe?"
"He’s fine," Tōma said. "You’ll guard the perimeter. Do not approach the carriage."
The female genin bristled. "And why not?"
"Because I don’t trust you."
The blunt answer hit harder than any insult.
She opened her mouth to snap back, but the other two stopped her. They weren’t idiots. Anyone who could leave that many bodies lying around wasn’t someone you argued with. The blood still dripping from Tōma’s blade made that painfully clear.
One of them spoke carefully. "Then at least let us confirm he’s unharmed."
Before Tōma could respond, the carriage door opened. The elderly craftsman stepped out, gripping his grandson’s hand. He glanced at Tōma on the roof, then at the three genin.
"Black Shadow," he said politely, "sorry for the trouble. Is this proof enough?"
"Yes," the lead genin said quickly, relief obvious. "We’ll stand guard here. Please don’t worry."
The craftsman nodded, clearly unconvinced. Compared to the boy on the roof, these three felt... flimsy.
Tōma was about to dismiss them when his brow furrowed.
The mist fully dispersed.
Everyone froze.
Dozens of corpses lay scattered around the carriage, revealed all at once under the moonlight.
The female genin’s anger vanished, replaced by shock. Then fear. It wasn’t hard to guess who had done this. Her legs trembled as she remembered her earlier outburst. If her teammates hadn’t stopped her...
She swallowed hard.
The craftsman stared in silence. The quiet, withdrawn boy he’d traveled with had slaughtered every threat before they could even reach the carriage. No noise. No warning. The reason it had felt so peaceful was simple.
Nothing had survived long enough to make a sound.
Beside him, the grandson trembled too, but his fear quickly twisted into something brighter. Awe. Pure, burning admiration. If the situation were different, he might have already begged to become Tōma’s apprentice.
"Go back," Tōma said.
"Yes... thank you," the craftsman replied, pulling his grandson inside.
Tōma surveyed the wider scene. Several wagons lay overturned or ablaze. The cargo transports had been hit hardest. Whatever these attackers wanted, it wasn’t the people.
Their carriage stood untouched. Even the horses hadn’t panicked.
Too noticeable.
Tōma pulled on his ANBU mask.
People were starting to notice. Survivors. Guards. Curious eyes drifting closer.
That was a problem.
"Don’t let anyone approach," he ordered the three genin.
They hesitated. "How are we supposed to stop all of them?"
Tōma’s voice drifted down, light and almost amused. "Convince them. Cripple a few if needed. Kill one if you have to. Your captain already told you the priority. Protect the craftsman. Do your job."
Cold silence followed.
No one dared argue with the blank mask staring down at them.
The three genin exchanged looks, then nodded grimly and moved to intercept the oncoming crowd.
Tōma’s gaze shifted to the distance.
Wood Release techniques tore through the battlefield like living beasts. The fight there was intense.
To push Tenzo this hard... an elite Mist shinobi?
"Black Shadow," a familiar voice called.
Hound and Fox arrived at last as the fog fully cleared.
"You’re late," Tōma said.
Hound laughed and patted the head of his ninja dog. "We were intercepting stragglers. Once the mist dropped, it got harder."
The Hidden Mist had favored them too. For trackers, obscured vision was just another tool.
"Stay here," Tōma said after confirming no enemies remained nearby. "I’ll back up the captain."
"Go," Fox said, tossing him a small bottle. "Last of the soldier pills."
Tōma caught it and vanished.
Inside the carriage, the craftsman listened to the exchange and sighed. More guards should have meant more safety.
So why did it feel worse?
Tōma didn’t head straight for Tenzo. That fight wasn’t one he could casually join.
Instead, he hunted.
Mist shinobi were still looting the cargo wagons. Scattered. Distracted.
One by one, they appeared within his perception.
So their targetD goal was supplies.
That explained why none had come directly for the craftsman. Not just because Hound and Fox blocked them.
No matter.
Enemies were enemies.
And enemies were better off dead.
Tōma slipped into the shadows, blade humming softly as chakra flowed along its edge.
Perfect.
Time to test just how sharp his chakra-forged sword really was.