Takeshi sat by the fire and scraped the last bits of rice from his bowl. His shoulders ached from the day's fighting. The Yotsuki had pushed hard this morning, but the Kamizuru had driven them back across the valley. Three of his squadmates hadn't made it back to camp.
Around him, two dozen shinobi gathered in clusters near their tents. The camp occupied a clearing at the edge of the Land of Iron's border forest. Trees surrounded them on three sides. To the north, the mountains of their homeland rose against the darkening sky.
"Did you see their faces when we broke through their left flank?" Junichi sat across from Takeshi and grinned. "They scattered like frightened children."
"They'll regroup by tomorrow," Takeshi said. He set his bowl aside and stretched his legs. "They rush in like mindless monsters."
"Let them come. We'll crush them again." Junichi pulled a kunai from his pouch and began cleaning dried blood from the blade. "The Yotsuki are nothing but brainless monkeys. All that brawn, but they have little brain power."
Takeshi watched the other shinobi moving through camp. Some tended to their weapons. Others wrapped bandages around minor wounds. The camp had the quiet efficiency of soldiers who had fought together for months. He'd seen too many battles to share Junichi's confidence. Overconfidence got people killed.
"What about the samurai?" Kenji walked over and dropped down beside the fire. He was younger than the others, barely eighteen. "I saw three of them watching us from that ridge this afternoon."
"The samurai are nothing," Junichi said. He examined his kunai and slid it back into his pouch. "They stand around with their fancy armor and their codes of honor. They don't understand real combat."
"They have numbers though," Kenji said. "If they decided to turn on us—"
"They won't." Junichi leaned back and crossed his arms. "Their leader sold them out. The Daimyo of the Land of Iron wants power more than he wants to protect his people. The samurai follow orders like dogs. As long as he tells them to leave us alone, they'll keep their distance."
Takeshi stared into the fire and said nothing. He had fought beside shinobi clans his entire adult life. The Kamizuru weren't strong enough compared to the great clans of the Land of Fire like the Senju and Uchiha, but they compensated with numbers and tactics. They had survived this long because they understood how to exploit weaknesses.
The samurai were a different matter. Their ideology was filled with holes. They remained stuck in their old traditions. They couldn't even be considered as warriors. They were like decorations.
"The samurai are fools," Junichi continued. He spat into the fire. "They cling to outdated traditions. They think honor and loyalty will protect them. Meanwhile their leader invites us into their territory and lets us use their resources. They're too blind to see they're being used."
"Maybe," Takeshi said. He pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders as the temperature dropped. "That might be their way of clinging to what remains of them."
"You're right. They are just delusional fools."
"Yeah. What can they even do? One large scale jutsu and they're finished."
Junichi laughed and shook his head. "You're spitting too much truth. The samurai are bound by their codes. They won't act without orders from their master, and the Daimyo won't give those orders."
Kenji tilted his head. "What did the Clan Leader promise him?"
"Don't know," Junichi said. "Do you really think the Clan Leader will keep his promise?"
Takeshi didn't respond. He already knew the answer. Those who had power had the right to demand. As for whether the Daimyo of the Land of Iron had power, he didn't. A bunch of samurai meant nothing.
The fire crackled and sent sparks drifting into the night air. Around the camp, the conversations grew quieter as exhaustion set in. Takeshi stood and stretched his back. His body demanded rest even though his mind remained alert.
"I'm turning in," he said.
Junichi waved without looking up. Kenji nodded and pulled his own blanket closer to the flames. Takeshi walked toward his tent at the edge of the clearing. He passed a group of sentries stationed near the perimeter. They gave him brief nods as he went by. Their eyes looked tired. Everyone was tired.
Inside his tent, Takeshi removed his weapons harness and set it beside his bedroll. His kunai pouch hung within easy reach. Old habits from years of combat kept him prepared even in supposedly secure camps. He lay down and closed his eyes. Sleep came slowly, interrupted by thoughts of tomorrow's patrol and the samurai watching from the ridges.
The attack came without warning.
Takeshi jerked awake as screams tore through the night air. His heart hammered against his ribs as he grabbed his kunai pouch and rolled out of his tent in one motion. The clearing had transformed into something from a nightmare. Bodies lay scattered near the fire pit with limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Blood soaked the ground in dark patches that reflected the firelight. The metallic smell hit him immediately and made his stomach clench.
A figure stood in the center of the camp.
Takeshi's first impression was of height and presence that seemed to fill the entire clearing. The man wore a purple and black patterned kimono that looked too formal for a battlefield. His long black hair flowed down his back with red tips visible even in the dim light. His face made Takeshi's breath catch in his throat and his hands start to shake.
Six eyes stared out from the man's face. Three sets arranged vertically on each side like something that shouldn't exist in nature. Yellow irises with red sclera and black lines radiating from each pupil. Red markings covered parts of his face like flames frozen in the moment of burning. The top set of eyes replaced where his eyebrows should have been. Takeshi had seen many strange things in his life but nothing had prepared him for this.
The man held a katana that looked wrong in ways Takeshi couldn't immediately articulate. Flesh covered the blade instead of metal. Eyes dotted the surface between the handle wrappings and seemed to blink independently. Veins ran along the length of the sword like it was alive. The scabbard at his waist had the same organic appearance. What kind of monster was this?
"Kamizuru shinobi," the man said. His voice carried across the camp with deliberate emphasis on each word. "You disgrace this land with your presence."
Junichi threw a kunai from his position near the fire. The blade flew straight toward the man's chest with the kind of precision that came from years of training. The man drew his sword in a single horizontal slash and immediately sheathed it. The motion looked like textbook Iaijutsu that any samurai might perform.
"Moon Breathing First Form: Dark Moon, Evening Palace."
Dozens of chaotic crescent-shaped cuts appeared along the slash's path and tore through the air like invisible blades made manifest. Takeshi watched in frozen horror as the crescents shredded Junichi's kunai mid-flight and continued forward without losing momentum. They cut through Junichi's torso in multiple directions with surgical precision. Junichi's body fell apart in pieces that scattered across the blood-soaked ground. His eyes were still wide with surprise.
This isn't real. This can't be real. Takeshi's mind refused to process what he'd just witnessed. Junichi had been alive three seconds ago. He'd been laughing by the fire just hours earlier. Now he was scattered across the clearing in pieces.
"No!" Kenji's voice broke as he screamed and formed hand seals with trembling fingers. He thrust his hands forward and earth chakra swirled around them with concentrated intensity.
"Earth Release: Stone Barrage!"
A volley of hardened stone projectiles shot toward the man in rapid succession. Maybe it would work. Maybe the technique would strike true and end this nightmare. The man raised his sword and performed three crescent-shaped slashes with the same casual efficiency he'd shown before.
"Moon Breathing Second Form: Pearl Flower Moongazing."
A multitude of crescent moon blades released along with the slashes and collided with Kenji's technique. The crescents overwhelmed it completely and shattered the stones like they were nothing more than pebbles. They tore through Kenji's body and the ground beneath him with devastating force, leaving deep gouges in the earth where his corpse fell in a spreading pool of blood.
Takeshi's hands shook so badly he nearly dropped his kunai. His throat had gone completely dry. Around him, other shinobi recovered from their initial shock and began coordinating their attacks with the trained efficiency of experienced fighters. Five of them moved in from different angles while three more prepared ranged techniques. Takeshi wanted to tell them to run, to flee while they still could, but his voice wouldn't work.
The man's middle set of eyes swiveled to track each attacker independently while his top and bottom sets remained fixed on the group preparing jutsu. He can see everything at once. How do you fight something that has no blind spots? The man stepped forward with measured precision and performed two extremely broad crescent-shaped slashes directly in front of him with his flesh-covered blade.
"Moon Breathing Third Form: Loathsome Moon, Chains."
A storm of smaller crescent moon blades erupted from the initial slashes and filled the space between him and the five charging attackers. The crescents cut through all five shinobi before they could close even half the distance. Their bodies fell apart in sections that tumbled across the clearing and left trails of blood in the dirt. One of them had been Riku. Takeshi had trained with Riku for two years.
The three shinobi launched their prepared techniques simultaneously with desperate hope in their eyes. One slammed his hands together and concentrated earth chakra.
"Earth Release: Rock Avalanche!"
Massive boulders rose from the ground and crashed down toward the man with enough force to crush anything beneath them. Another shinobi formed hand seals and thrust his palms toward the ground.
"Earth Release: Earth Flow Wave!"
The ground beneath the man liquefied and surged upward in violent waves meant to destabilize and trap him. The third pressed his hands flat on the earth with enough force to crack his own fingers.
"Earth Release: Earth Spear!"
Sharpened pillars of stone erupted toward the man's position from multiple angles. The combined assault engulfed the area where he stood in an explosion of rock and earth that shook the ground beneath Takeshi's feet.
Maybe that did it. Maybe the combination was enough. Takeshi held his breath and waited for the dust to clear. When the techniques dissipated, the man stood untouched in the center of the scorched earth. His sword rested at his side. Not a single mark appeared on his kimono or skin. Even his hair looked pristine.
"Pathetic," he said.
We're all going to die here. The realization hit Takeshi like a physical blow. This wasn't a fight. It was a massacre. The man swung his sword in a wide arc without even bothering to step forward.
"Moon Breathing Eighth Form: Moon-Dragon Ringtail."
The altered blade created an extremely wide, long-ranged curved slash that left dozens of crescent moon blades along its path. The crescents expanded outward in a massive wave that carved through the three shinobi who had launched the jutsu. Their bodies came apart like paper. The slashes continued and left six deep craters across the camp where each primary strike hit the ground with enough force to send debris flying. The three shinobi disappeared in the explosions of earth and blood.
Takeshi backed away slowly as his legs threatened to give out beneath him. His mind struggled to process what he was witnessing. The man moved with precision that exceeded any shinobi Takeshi had ever fought. His sword techniques produced physical manifestations of cutting force that weren't illusions or chakra constructs but real blades that carved through flesh and stone with equal ease. How was this possible? What kind of technique created solid cutting edges from thin air?
More shinobi emerged from their tents and joined the fight with weapons drawn and determination on their faces. They hadn't seen what Takeshi had seen. They didn't understand yet. A squad of five formed hand seals in unison and bit their thumbs hard enough to draw blood before slamming their palms on the ground.
"Summoning Technique!"
Five massive clouds of smoke erupted across the clearing. When they cleared, giant bees the size of horses appeared with their wings creating small windstorms that kicked up dust and debris. The insects had black and yellow striped bodies, translucent wings that buzzed with enough force to hurt Takeshi's ears, and stingers the length of swords dripping with venom that could kill a man in seconds. The Kamizuru clan's signature summons. If anything could turn this around, it would be these.
"Kill him!" one of the summoners shouted with wild hope in his voice. The five giant bees launched themselves at the man from different angles with coordinated precision. Their wings beat the air hard enough to create pressure waves. Their stingers aimed for vital points on his body with the accuracy of trained killers.
The man swung his altered katana in multiple downward curved slashes that came in close proximity to each other with mechanical efficiency.
"Moon Breathing Ninth Form: Waning Moonswaths."
Each slash left numerous crescent moon blades along its path that filled the air in overlapping patterns. The crescents tore through all five giant bees simultaneously with devastating efficiency. They shredded the insects' wings into confetti and cut their bodies into sections that fell to the ground leaking yellow ichor across the clearing. The summoning technique dispelled in bursts of smoke that smelled like burning chitin.
Takeshi's thoughts spiraled as he watched the strongest technique in the Kamizuru arsenal fail completely. The five summoners stared in horror with their mouths hanging open. Two of them turned to run with panic overriding their training. The other three prepared desperate follow-up attacks with shaking hands. One formed hand seals with visible tears running down his face.
"Earth Release: Mudslide Torrent!"
A massive wave of liquefied earth surged from his position and flowed toward the man with crushing weight. Another created hand seals with fingers that could barely form the proper shapes.
"Earth Release: Rock Pillar Prison!"
Stone pillars erupted in a circle around the man, attempting to cage him in. The third summoner bit his thumb again with so much force he nearly took off the tip and summoned a swarm of regular-sized bees that filled the air between them and the man. Hundreds of them created a buzzing wall of chitin and venom.
The man's sword blurred through three rotating motions that created afterimages in the firelight.
"Moon Breathing Tenth Form: Drilling Slashes, Moon Through Bamboo Leaves."
Three circular saw-like slashes formed in the air with crescent moon blades following their rotational paths like spinning death wheels. The spinning crescents cut through the swarm of bees and reduced them to falling fragments. They shattered the stone pillars like they were clay. They split the mudslide and continued forward to bisect all three summoners at the waist with perfect horizontal cuts. Their upper bodies fell separately from their legs and hit the ground with wet thuds.
The two fleeing summoners made it fifteen meters before the man performed a frontal crescent-shaped slash with his altered blade without even turning to face them properly.
"Moon Breathing Seventh Form: Mirror of Misfortune, Moonlit."
The initial slash coupled with several crescent moon blades that unleashed numerous straight slashes with more crescents interlaced throughout them. The attack pattern expanded outward through the ground and left glowing trails of destruction. The crescents caught both fleeing shinobi from behind and cut them down before they reached the tree line. Their bodies collapsed mid-stride and slid across the blood-soaked earth.
I'm going to die here. I'm going to die just like all of them. Takeshi realized the truth with crystal clarity as he watched more of his comrades launch desperate attacks that accomplished nothing. A group of four shinobi worked together to create a combination technique with the kind of coordination that should have been unbeatable. They formed synchronized hand seals and prepared their techniques in unison with grim determination on their faces.
"Earth Release: Stone Dragon!"
The first shinobi created a massive dragon formed from compressed rock that roared as it launched forward.
"Earth Release: Earth Spear Barrage!"
The second added dozens of sharpened stone projectiles that flew alongside the dragon.
"Earth Release: Crushing Boulder!"
The third contributed an enormous spherical mass of hardened earth that rolled with devastating momentum.
"Earth Release: Mud Wall Collapse!"
The fourth created towering walls of earth on either side that would collapse inward to crush the target. The four earth techniques combined into a devastating multi-directional assault that converged on the man from multiple vectors with enough power to level a building.
The man stood perfectly still as the techniques converged on his position with explosive force. Then he swung his sword outward in a massive circular motion that seemed almost casual despite its speed.
"Moon Breathing Fourteenth Form: Catastrophe, Tenman Crescent Moon."
A multitude of curved circular slashes expanded outward in every direction and incrementally grew in size as they traveled. The technique created an omni-directional vortex of crescent moon blades that whirled around him and filled the entire clearing. The crescents shattered the stone dragon and pulverized the boulder before they could reach him, completely overwhelming their combined power. They continued outward and cut through the four shinobi who had launched the combination assault. They carved through every other remaining fighter in the camp with indiscriminate efficiency. Bodies fell in pieces as the vortex of blades carved through everything within fifty meters. Blood sprayed in arcs that painted the tents and ground in dripping red.
Takeshi dropped his kunai because his hands had gone completely numb. He turned and ran toward the forest with his heart threatening to burst from his chest. The forest was fifty meters away. If he could reach the trees, maybe he could lose the man in the darkness. Maybe he could hide somewhere and survive until morning. Maybe someone would come looking for them. His legs pumped as hard as they could while his lungs burned from exertion and terror that tasted like copper in his mouth.
Something struck him from behind with the force of a battering ram. Pain exploded through his back and chest in waves that whited out his vision. He looked down through tears of agony and saw crescent-shaped wounds cutting through his torso from multiple angles with clean precision. Blood poured from the openings and soaked his clothing until it clung to his skin. His legs gave out and he collapsed face-first into the dirt with blood filling his mouth and choking off his scream.
His vision blurred as blood filled his lungs and made every breath a wet gurgle. Through fading eyesight he saw the man approach with deliberate steps that crunched on blood-soaked earth. Those six eyes stared down at him without emotion or mercy. The fleshy sword dripped blood onto the ground from its many eyes and veins. Takeshi tried to speak, to beg for his life, but blood choked his words.
"I am Kokushibo," the man said. His voice remained calm and measured despite the carnage surrounding him on all sides. "Remember that name when you meet your end. Know that a true warrior killed you, not some pathetic shinobi who relies on tricks and deception."
Takeshi tried to speak but blood bubbled from his lips and drowned his words in red foam. The man raised his sword for a final strike that would end his suffering. At least it would be over soon.
"You shinobi have forgotten what real combat means," Kokushibo said. His six eyes looked around the destroyed camp with clinical detachment as if he were observing an interesting experiment. "You hide behind your techniques. You avoid direct confrontation. You lack the discipline and dedication required for true mastery. You disgust me."
The sword fell and darkness took Takeshi before the blade finished its arc.
Kokushibo stood alone in the silent camp with his sword still dripping blood. Bodies lay scattered across the clearing in various states of dismemberment. Blood covered the ground and splattered the nearby tents in arterial sprays. The fire still burned in the center, casting flickering light across the scene and making shadows dance across the corpses.
He cleaned his blade with a cloth taken from one of the tents with methodical precision. The fleshy sword absorbed the blood and the eyes along its surface blinked slowly as if satisfied. He sheathed it and walked toward the northern edge of camp without looking back at his work.
Behind him, the destruction spoke of systematic slaughter carried out with perfect efficiency. Not a single Kamizuru shinobi remained alive among the twenty-four who had been stationed here. The entire camp had been eliminated in less than ten minutes despite their summoning techniques and combination attacks.
Kokushibo paused at the tree line and looked back one final time with all six eyes scanning the scene. The Kamizuru had been weak despite their numbers and coordination. They had relied too heavily on their techniques and not enough on fundamental combat skills that separated true warriors from pretenders. Their bee summons had provided no advantage against superior swordsmanship. They had died like the weaklings they were.
He turned and disappeared into the forest with his kimono untouched by a single drop of blood. The mountains of the Land of Iron stretched out before him under the moonlight. More Kamizuru camps would be scattered throughout the border regions with more foolish shinobi who thought their techniques made them strong.
He would find them all and teach them the same lesson he had taught tonight. The Land of Iron would be cleansed of their disgraceful presence one camp at a time.