The moment Biwa Juzo sensed the unfamiliar chakra signatures closing in around the battlefield, a chill ran down his spine. An ominous premonition surged through him, sharp and suffocating.
He stopped pressing his assault on Hyuga Yuta, pulling the Executioner's Blade back while his mind raced for an exit. For an elite jonin like him, very few situations inspired genuine fear. Even outnumbered, he usually had full confidence he could carve a path out with steel. A top-tier shinobi doesn't drown in numbers—unless a Kage takes the field, trapping someone of Juzo's caliber is next to impossible.
And yet—right now—his instincts screamed danger.
Everything about this Konoha unit felt wrong. It wasn't the typical mix of veterans and trainees. Every last one of them was Hyuga—with cold, pale eyes that saw through everything. And the way reinforcements had appeared—swift, precise, the net closing in within minutes—
Juzo realized with dread he was in serious trouble.
Hyuga ninja…
A bead of sweat traced down his temple. A terrible thought flickered.
Across from him, Yuta noticed the hesitation and the furtive glances. A smirk tugged at his lips.
"Only now thinking of running? Too late. If you hadn't struck first, maybe you could've escaped—but now? There's no way out."
Juzo's frown deepened—but before he could move, a gust of sea wind swept the forest, thinning the mist.
In that fleeting gap, he finally saw them.
Three more skirmishes had erupted nearby—each of his subordinates locked with more Hyuga. Not just one or two—dozens of pale, sightless eyes gleamed through the trees. Around the periphery, chakra signatures tightened the ring; faint whistles of movement, the rustle of branches—sound closing in from every side.
Even his subordinates, less skilled at sensing, felt it. Instincts screamed wrong. They broke off and fell back toward him—the only correct move when outnumbered: close ranks, or die one by one.
"Shh—"
Leaves whispered, and then shadows emerged. Dozens of figures stepped from the fog. Every one of them bore the pale, luminous eyes of the Hyuga.
For a stunned moment, even hardened Mist-nin only gaped.
"Wh—what kind of joke is this!?" one stammered.
Everywhere—the Byakugan. More than twenty elite Hyuga surrounded them, each calm, silent, deadly. This wasn't reconnaissance. This was a strike unit—a force that could tilt a battle.
And they had walked into it.
Despair crept through the Mist ranks—quiet, cold, consuming.
"…So it really is Mist-nin," came a calm, youthful voice. "Already deep inside the Land of Fire, huh? I'll admit—your infiltration is impressive."
The voice came from above.
Juzo looked up—and froze.
A young boy stood atop a towering tree, morning light catching the pale gleam of his eyes. His face was calm, unreadable—but the sharpness of his presence made Juzo's heart lurch. The entire Hyuga force seemed centered around him.
A thought struck like lightning.
"This kid…" His breath hitched. "This kid is Main Family!"
The words rasped out between clenched teeth. Cold sweat poured down his brow. Now it made sense: why so many Hyuga, why such efficient movement. They were protecting the Main Family heir.
Juzo's face twisted. His last infiltration into the Land of Fire had been at the height of the Third Great War—when the Seven Ninja Swordsmen were sent to sow terror behind enemy lines. That mission had turned into a bloodbath. They'd expected slaughter. Instead, a "taijutsu-only" Konoha chunin had annihilated more than half their number. Four of the Seven never returned. Only Juzo, Fuguki, and Raiga escaped.
And now, years later, on his second infiltration—another death trap. Another monster behind a child's face.
He glanced around. The ring of Byakugan gleamed faintly through the mist, every gaze fixed on him. The boy's calm radiated pressure—more terrifying than a scream.
"…No way out," Juzo muttered. He clenched his jaw and barked, "Break through! Grab the kid!"
If they could take the heir, there might still be a sliver of hope.
He snapped through hand seals.
"Water Release: Water Bullet Technique!"
A torrent of compressed water blasted toward the boy atop the tree. The others surged with him—six Mist-nin charging through the fog at a single target.
Juzo himself… quietly turned and slipped into the mist. Those men were sacrifices—distractions to buy a few precious seconds to flee.
Up in the branches, the boy—Hyuga Satoru—exhaled softly, watching the glistening wall of water rush toward him.
"Hmph," he murmured. "You four, hold the line."
He didn't sound worried. If anything, a flicker of anticipation lit his eyes. This mission wasn't only about a stolen Byakugan. It was about sharpening himself—testing limits through real battle. Even if Ao wasn't here, these Mist elites would do as training dummies.
The next instant, his body blurred—leaping from the tree as the water bullet smashed through it, splintering the trunk.
As fragments fell, Satoru's hands flicked—five kunai arced toward the charging Mist-nin. Their paths were strange—slightly off-center, grazing past each face.
"Missed?" one thought, smirking. Just a kid—can't even aim—
The thought died.
Space flickered.
A seal on one kunai flared; light twisted—
and Satoru stepped out of nothing at the man's back.
A whisper of motion—two fingertips tapped the jaw hinge and the carotid.
Gentle Fist chakra surged—nerves and chakra flow severed in a painless blackout.
Thud.
Across the line, four more bodies collapsed in near-unison—tendons deadened, chakra networks sealed cleanly. Not a head rolled. Not a scream rose. In a heartbeat, five attackers were alive… but finished.
The shattered trunk hit earth with a boom, scattering leaves and dirt. When the dust settled, only the boy remained standing—short blade low at his side, its edge unstained.
Farther off in the fog, Juzo stopped dead. He hadn't gotten far before he felt it—killing intent, cold as the deep sea.
A small, slender silhouette stepped out ahead of him—Satoru again, blade like frozen lightning.
"Y—you were just—" Juzo turned in panic to look back—
—and saw them. His men. Every last one. Sprawled in the mist, unconscious, chakra sealed tight.
"This… this isn't possible!" His voice cracked. Genjutsu? No—the rhythm of their breath, the faint pulse; it was all real. Perfectly neutralized in seconds.
He spun back. The boy was already there, blade raised, eyes cold as moonlight.
"Executioner's Blade," Satoru said softly, gaze on the iron slab at Juzo's shoulder. "I said take them alive—except the swordsman."
A single, blinding arc cut through the mist.
Swoosh.
The flash of the Hyuga flared.
◇ I'll be dropping one bonus chapters for every 10 reviews. comment
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ You can read 50 chapter ahead on P@treon if you're interested: patreon.com/Nova5tudios