Chapter 20: Swarm Tactics
"Secret Technique: Insect Wall!" Aburame Fumihiko's voice was a low hum.
The dense cloud of chakra-fed insects swirling around him coalesced instantly, forming a solid, buzzing black barrier between him and the diving crow.
The crow slammed into the living wall. Instead of breaking through, it was engulfed. In the blink of an eye, a second wave of parasites swarmed over its body, covering every feather, every inch of its form in a writhing, black shroud. Shuichi Mayumi's eye twitched slightly. Even expecting it, the sight was viscerally disturbing.
For every insect crushed by the crow's frantic thrashing—wings beating, body rolling on the ground—two more took its place. Within moments, the crow's movements grew sluggish, then ceased entirely, its body convulsing under the corrosive and devouring assault.
Then, it dissolved. Its form liquefied into a puddle of dark red fluid, which then rapidly contracted, condensing into a single, gleaming droplet of crimson blood that fell to the forest floor with a soft pat.
Seeing Fumihiko unharmed, Hyuga Kuji let out a held breath. His miscalculation hadn't cost his teammate. He turned his Byakugan-aided gaze to the other crow still battling the insect swarm.
They don't leave bodies. Just… blood. Fumihiko frowned, commanding a few of his insects to investigate the fallen droplet. In the previous village attack, the scene had been too chaotic to recover samples. This blood could be the key to understanding the threat.
Zzt—CRACKLE!
A sickening sizzle. The insects that touched the blood droplet spasmed violently, their connection to Fumihiko severing. Before he could recall them, their tiny bodies ruptured, bursting from within. The blood droplet was gone, presumably consumed in the violent reaction.
Fumihiko crouched, examining the insect corpses. Their insides were a corroded mess. The blood itself is toxic. A living weapon. Direct collection was impossible.
Hidden in the forest canopy, Onigarasu observed, its mind working. Intelligence gathered. The white-eyed one: powerful close-quarters, no visible ranged attacks. The bug-user: formidable defense and area control, no clear weakness. The female… secondary.
The Ghost King's test is challenging.
It watched the two shinobi regroup, then glanced at the kunoichi guarding the two civilians.
A plan, crude but effective, began to form.
"Look! The sky!" Kizugawa Sakiko's sharp cry drew everyone's attention. The remaining crows in the air above suddenly scattered, melting into the surrounding woods.
"They're not leaving. They're repositioning," Kuji stated, his Byakugan scanning the treeline. "We're surrounded."
The attack would come from all directions. The uncertainty of which crow would strike first was a psychological weapon.
Good thing we have the Byakugan, Fumihiko thought, adjusting his sunglasses.
"Back-to-back formation. Protect the clients in the center," Fumihiko ordered. The mission objective was clear: deliver Mayumi and the boy safely to the next town.
They fell into a tight triangle, each covering a sector. Fumihiko expanded his insect swarm, creating a humming, protective ring around the group.
"Sakiko, two o'clock! Two targets!"
"Fumihiko, nine o'clock! Two targets!"
As the crows moved, Kuji called out their positions. Sakiko and Fumihiko each found two crows streaking toward their sectors. Kuji's own front remained clear.
Two each… can they handle it? Kuji's knuckles whitened. He couldn't break formation to assist.
Then, a feint. One of the crows hurtling toward Fumihiko's insect wall veered at the last possible second, altering its trajectory with unnatural agility. It joined the two already targeting Sakiko.
Three giant crows converged on her at once.
Sakiko's eyes widened. She was already bracing for two. A third, this close, was overwhelming. She formed hand seals, slamming her palms to the earth. "Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall!"
A slab of rock erupted from the ground, blocking the direct charge of one crow. The other two were momentarily tangled in Fumihiko's insects, which had rushed to reinforce her sector. But the pressure was immense.
Fumihiko's own sector was now lighter, facing only one crow. He could manage, but Sakiko was buckling.
"Fumihiko, incoming again! They're focusing on Sakiko!" Kuji's voice was tense. Why are they ignoring me? Trying to overwhelm a single point?
Onigarasu continued its strategy, sending clone after clone to harry Sakiko and Fumihiko, testing their endurance, probing for a break in the defensive ring. It was a war of attrition.
If the two being protected were truly ordinary civilians, it could devise more creative diversions. But the Ghost King was among them. It was utterly convinced its attacks couldn't harm him, but striking in his direction was an unthinkable taboo. It would not risk his displeasure.
"Seems I'm cramping the crow's style," Shuichi murmured, so quietly only Momiji, standing beside him, could hear. The three shinobi were fully engaged, their senses stretched thin.
"My Lord," Momiji whispered, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. "Shall I intervene?"
Sakiko was holding, using the earth wall as a barrier while Fumihiko's insects whittled down the crows. But it was a slow process. She had options—offensive ninjutsu, explosive tags—but they were risky, likely to cause collateral damage to the insects and herself.
This could drag on for a while. They were far from the village, but not impossibly so. Other night-traveling shinobi could stumble upon the battle. The longer it lasted, the greater the risk.
Dry Arrow's sluggish approach was still far off. He wouldn't arrive in time to tip the scales.
The logical choice was clear.
"Proceed, Momiji," Shuichi said, his voice a calm, quiet command.
A faint, cold smile touched Momiji's lips. His icy blue eyes, fixed on the struggling kunoichi, hardened. He had been still for too long. The Ghost King's order was a release.
In one fluid motion, he drew the iron sword from his back. There was no flashy technique, no battle cry. He simply took a step forward, then another, moving past Sakiko's earthen wall with a speed that blurred his form—not the shunshin of a shinobi, but the pure, predatory acceleration of a demon.
He didn't head for the crows harrying Sakiko. He aimed for the heart of the formation's temporary stability—Hyuga Kuji, whose back was turned, his Byakugan focused entirely on the external threats.
The blade, mundane iron but propelled by demonic strength, sang a silent song as it cut through the air toward the Hyuga's undefended spine.
(End of Chapter)
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