Takeshi scraped the remaining rice from his bowl, letting out a tired sigh as he set it aside. His shoulders throbbed from the day's skirmishes, and his hands were sore from gripping his kunai for hours during the relentless battle in the valley. The Yotsuki had pressed hard at dawn, but the Kamizuru ultimately pushed them back across the river, suffering heavy losses on both sides. Three of Takeshi's squadmates were missing and hadn't returned to camp.
Around him, two dozen shinobi formed small groups near their tents, surrounded by trees on three sides, with the mountains of the Land of Iron looming to the north against the darkening sky.
"Did you see their faces when we broke through their left flank?" Junichi, sitting across from Takeshi, grinned despite his fatigue. "They scattered like children."
"They'll regroup by tomorrow and come after us again," Takeshi said, stretching his legs and feeling his knee pop painfully. "The Yotsuki always do."
"Let them come. We'll defeat them again," Junichi replied, pulling a kunai from his pouch to clean dried blood off the blade. "They're strong, but they lack tactical discipline."
Takeshi observed the other shinobi tending to their weapons and bandaging minor wounds. He had seen too many battles to share Junichi's casual assurance.
"What about the samurai we spotted today?" Kenji, who was only eighteen, plopped down beside the fire with a half-full bowl. "I counted three of them watching us from that ridge in the afternoon."
"The samurai are insignificant," Junichi replied while cleaning his kunai. "They stand in their elaborate armor talking about honor, but they don't grasp modern warfare."
"But they have significant numbers," Kenji insisted. "If they decide to back the Yotsuki—"
"They won't because their Daimyo has already abandoned them." Junichi leaned back, arms crossed. "Lord Shinji values power over neutrality. The samurai follow orders blindly. As long as he tells them to disregard us, they will."
Takeshi stared into the fire, silent. The samurai posed a different threat. Their unwavering adherence to tradition made them predictable, but it also signified a depth of commitment that shinobi often lacked.
"How long do you think this campaign will last?" Kenji asked, picking at his rice. "We've been fighting in the Land of Iron for four months now."
"As long as it takes to eliminate the Yotsuki," Junichi responded. "Lord Ishikawa has a plan, and we're executing it well."
The conversation shifted to lighter topics as the fire crackled. Eventually, Takeshi stood and stretched his aching back.
"I'm off to sleep," he declared.
Inside his tent, Takeshi removed his weapons harness, placing it within reach of his bedroll. He lay down, closing his eyes while thoughts of tomorrow's patrol route and the samurai on the ridges swirled in his mind.
---
Without warning, the night's tranquility shattered.
Takeshi jolted awake as screams pierced the camp. He snatched his kunai pouch and rolled out of his tent in a smooth motion. The clearing had turned into chaos. Bodies lay scattered around the fire pit, dismembered and blood pooling beneath them. The metallic scent hit him like a punch.
In the center of the carnage stood a figure.
The man was tall, clad in a formal kimono patterned in purple and black. His long black hair flowed to his back, with red tips. But it was his face that made Takeshi's breath catch.
Six eyes stared back at him in an unnatural arrangement. Three pairs were positioned vertically, yellow irises set in red sclera with black lines radiating from the pupils. Red markings adorned his face in flowing patterns reminiscent of flames. The uppermost pair occupied where eyebrows should be, while the lowest rested on his cheeks.
The sword he held looked grotesque; organic tissue covered the blade, with actual eyes embedded within it, blinking of their own accord as if alive.
This can't be real.
"Kamizuru shinobi," the man said, his voice clear against the chaos. "You have sullied this land with your presence for the last time."
Junichi, with the precise aim honed from countless hours of training, threw a kunai directly at the man's chest.
The man drew his sword in a swift horizontal motion, instantly sheathing it in a way that almost made Takeshi miss it.
"Moon Breathing, First Form: Dark Moon, Evening Palace."
Dozens of chaotic crescent-shaped cuts erupted along the blade's path, slicing through the air. The crescent cuts destroyed Junichi's kunai in flight and continued forward with relentless force. They struck Junichi from multiple angles, and he stood frozen for a brief moment before his body fell apart.
This isn't happening.
"No!" Kenji screamed, his fingers trembling as he formed hand seals. He thrust his hands forward.
"Earth Release: Stone Barrage!"
Hardened stone projectiles surged towards the man. He countered with three rapid crescent slashes of his sword.
"Moon Breathing, Second Form: Pearl Flower Moongazing."
The crescent moon blades released along with the slashes, colliding with Kenji's technique, shattering the stone projectiles and ripping through Kenji's body. Deep gouges marked the ground where the crescents struck.
Takeshi's hands shook, his grip on his kunai faltering. Other shinobi began to recover from their shock and organized their attacks. Five approached from different angles while three more prepared ranged techniques.
The six-eyed man's eyes shifted to track each attacker individually as he stepped forward, executing two sweeping crescent slashes.
"Moon Breathing, Third Form: Loathsome Moon, Chains."
A storm of smaller crescent moon blades erupted from those slashes, filling the air with overlapping edges. The crescents decimated all five shinobi before they could close half the distance. One of them was Riku, whom Takeshi had trained with for two years.
The three remaining shinobi launched their ranged techniques together.
"Earth Release: Rock Avalanche!"
Giant boulders descended upon the six-eyed man.
"Earth Release: Earth Flow Wave!"
The ground beneath him liquefied, surging upward in violent waves.
"Earth Release: Earth Spear!"
Sharpened stone pillars shot up towards him. The three techniques converged, creating an explosion of rock and earth that shook the ground beneath Takeshi.
Please let that have worked.
As the dust settled, the six-eyed man stood unscathed amidst the scorched earth, his sword resting at his side. Not a single mark marred his kimono.
"You rely too much on techniques and ignore the basics of combat," he remarked.
We're all going to die here. The man swung his sword in a wide arc.
"Moon Breathing, Eighth Form: Moon-Dragon Ringtail."
The blade carved a wide, long-range arc, releasing dozens of crescent moon blades. The crescents swept outward, slaughtering the three shinobi and leaving deep craters in the camp.
Takeshi felt his legs buckle beneath him. More shinobi emerged from their tents, weapons drawn. A squad of five coordinated their hand seals, biting their thumbs before placing their palms to the ground.
"Summoning Technique!"
Clouds of smoke erupted, and when it cleared, five giant bees the size of horses appeared, wings creating miniature windstorms. They had striped bodies, translucent wings that buzzed painfully, and stingers like sword blades dripping with venom.
"Kill him!" one summoner shouted. The bees charged at the six-eyed man from various angles with precision.
The man swung his sword in versatile downward slashes, appearing almost as a single motion.
"Moon Breathing, Ninth Form: Waning Moonswaths."
Each slash left multiple crescent moon blades in its wake, tearing through all five giant bees and shredding them to pieces. The summons erupted in bursts of smoke.
Takeshi felt a part of himself break as he watched the Kamizuru's strongest technique fail. The five summoners, horrified, watched. Two fled while three prepared desperate follow-up attacks.
One completed his technique.
"Earth Release: Mudslide Torrent!"
A tsunami of liquefied earth surged towards the six-eyed man.
"Earth Release: Rock Pillar Prison!"
Stone columns erupted in a circle around him. The third summoner summoned a cloud of smaller bees that filled the air with buzzing wings.
With blurred motions, the six-eyed man swung his sword.
"Moon Breathing, Tenth Form: Drilling Slashes, Moon Through Bamboo Leaves."
Three circular saw-like formations with crescent moon blades erupted, obliterating the bees, shattering the stone pillars, and splitting the mudslide before bisecting all three summoners at the waist.
The two fleeing summons barely managed to escape fifteen meters before the man performed a horizontal crescent slash without turning to face them.
"Moon Breathing, Seventh Form: Mirror of Misfortune, Moonlit."
The attack radiated destruction through the ground, catching the two fleeing shinobi and dropping them mid-stride.
I need to run. Four more shinobi attempted a combined offensive.
"Earth Release: Stone Dragon!"
A massive dragon formed from compressed rock roared as it charged forward.
"Earth Release: Earth Spear Barrage!"
Countless sharpened stone projectiles shot alongside the dragon.
"Earth Release: Crushing Boulder!"
A giant hardened earth sphere surged forward with devastating force.
"Earth Release: Mud Wall Collapse!"
Walls of earth began to tumble toward the man. The combined techniques launched a powerful assault.
The man remained still as the techniques approached, then swung his sword in a vast circular motion.
"Moon Breathing, Fourteenth Form: Catastrophe, Tenman Crescent Moon."
Curved slashes expanded outward, creating a vortex of crescent moon blades that spun around him and engulfed the clearing. The crescents decimated the stone dragon and crushed the boulder. The vortex continued outward, slaughtering the remaining four shinobi and every other fighter still alive in the camp. Bodies fell apart in the blades' wake.
Takeshi's kunai slipped from his numb fingers as he turned to flee towards the forest. The tree line was fifty meters away; if he could just reach it, maybe he could hide until morning. He ran with all his might, lungs burning.
Something hit him from behind with the force of a sledgehammer, pain exploding in his back. He looked down to see crescent-shaped wounds slicing through his torso. Blood poured from the openings as his legs buckled beneath him, sending him face-first into the dirt.
Through fading vision, he saw the six-eyed man approach, those eyes fixed on him with cold detachment. The organic sword dripped with blood. Takeshi attempted to plead for mercy, but blood choked his words.
"I am Tsugikuni Michikatsu," the man said, his tone eerily calm. "Remember that name in whatever comes after death."
Takeshi sought to answer, but blood bubbled from his lips. The man raised his sword for the final strike.
"You shinobi have forgotten what true combat requires. You hide behind your techniques and shy from direct confrontation. Your weakness disgusts me."
The sword fell, plunging Takeshi into darkness before its arc was complete.
Standing alone amidst the silent camp, Michikatsu sheathed his bloody sword. Bodies lay strewn across the clearing, blood pooling in patches reflecting the dying fire's glow.
He methodically cleaned his blade with a cloth from one of the tents. The sword absorbed the blood, and the eyes embedded along its length blinked lazily. After sheathing the weapon, Michikatsu walked toward the northern edge without glancing back.
Behind him, the destruction illustrated a brutal slaughter that took place in around ten minutes. Every one of the twenty-four Kamizuru shinobi was dead.
At the tree line, he paused, scanning the camp one last time with all six of his eyes. The Kamizuru had shown weakness despite their numbers and coordination. They relied too much on techniques while neglecting the fundamentals of combat. Their bee summons brought them no advantage against a swordsman who understood attacks that transcended the physical reach of a blade.
They had received exactly what they deserved for violating the Land of Iron's neutrality.
He turned to fade into the forest, his kimono untouched by blood. In the bright moonlight, the mountains stretched before him. More Kamizuru camps lay scattered throughout the borderlands, filled with foolish shinobi who thought their techniques made them formidable.
He would find each of them in the nights to come, teaching the same lesson. The Land of Iron would be cleansed of their presence camp by camp until none remained.
The hunt had just begun.