Year 33
April 20th
The moon hung low, veiled behind drifting clouds, casting a pale silver glow over the forest canopy. Beneath it, four figures moved with practiced silence, their footsteps muffled by moss and fallen leaves, the Iwa scout team, hardened by years of conflict, advanced through the dense woodland in loose formation.
Kuroda, the team leader, raised a clenched fist. Instantly, the team halted. His eyes scanned the shadows, narrowing.
Something was wrong
The forest was too still. No rustling of nocturnal creatures, no distant chirps. Just silence.
He crouched, fingers flashing through a series of hand signals:
Fan out. Scan perimeters. Prepare for contact.
The squad obeyed, dispersing into a loose arc. Each member activated their chakra sensing techniques, probing the area. Kuroda's heart thudded – not from fear, but from instinct. Years of surviving ambushes had taught him to trust the silence.
Then it came
A kunai whistled through the air, embedding itself in a tree trunk beside one of the scouts. A heartbeat later, explosive tags ignited in ring around them, sending dirt and flame skyward.
The squad was forced inward, shattering their formation.
"AMBUSH!" Kuroda roared, drawing his Kunai.
From the treetops, masked figures descended like phantoms. Konoha ANBU, their movements fluid and lethal, struck with precision. Red-haired Uzumaki shinobi flanked by Konoha ANBU surged from the underbrush, his admantine chakra chains whipping through the air, glowing with raw power.
One Iwa shinobi was snared mid-air, dragged into the shadows with a strangled cry.
UWAAAAHH–!
Doton: Doryūheki 土遁・土流壁 (Earth release: earth style wall)
Another tried to counter with an Earth Wall, but the ground beneath him erupted – his technique overwhelmed by a barrage of lightning dragons and bullets.
Kuroda fought fiercely. With his earth-release defenses shielding him momentarily, he launched a barrage of stone shuriken, forcing two ANBU to retreat.
But the Uzumaki were relentless. A chain wrapped around his ankle, yanking him off balance. He twisted mid-fall, slashing the chain off, but another wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into the dirt.
He gritted his teeth, preparing a final jutsu. But before he could complete the hand seals, a masked ANBU drove a blade into his shoulder, pinning him to ground.
As his vision blurred, Kuroda's last thought was bitter.
'They knew we were coming. We were never meant to return.'
***
The sun rose reluctantly, casting a dull orange hue over the Iwa forward camp nestled in the valley beside the ruins of former Kusagakure. Tents flapped in the morning breeze, and the scent of damp earth lingered in the air. Inside the command tent, Commander Otsuchi stood over a large map, his fingers tracing the patrol routes marked in red ink – routes that now felt like death sentences.
His face was grim. The silence from the forest was growing louder.
The tent flap burst open. A genin medical-nin stumbled in, panting, his forehead protector cracked and his eyes wide with exhaustion.
"Sir – Scout Team Three… was ambushed. Team leader's unconscious, suffering from severe injury and chakra depletion."
Otsuchi's jaw clenched. "That's the seventh team this week."
Another aide entered, holding a scroll. "Team Five hasn't reported in. We sent a retrieval squad, but there were no signs and traces left of them."
Otsuchi turned to the assembled jonin squad leaders, his voice low and sharp. "Our scouting capabilities weren't this bad. what happened! When did this start!"
One jonin stepped forward. "It all started about three days ago… Our paths were suddenly layered with intricate traps. Fuinjutsu traps."
"Perhaps they deployed Hyuga shinobi," another suggested.
"Hyuga? That's impossible, their vision range can't cover the entire Kusa front!"
The Jonins murmured among themselves, voices tense and uncertain.
Then another chunin rushed in, clutching a blood-stained report.
"Commander – this is the latest intel recovered from the survivor."
Otsuchi snatched the scroll and scanned its contents. His eyes narrowed.
"Uzumaki…"
The room fell silent.
"Uzumaki?" someone gasped.
"""?!"""
"That's' impossible."
"Kirigakure should have had them occupied!"
"What is Kirigakure doing?"
"And Suna? I thought they promised pressure from the west!"
BANG!!!
"SILENCE!"
Otsuchi slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the tea pot and scattering scrolls. His voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"It's true there's a consensus among the major hidden villages to weaken Konoha. But don't forget – each village has its own motives, its own plans. We cannot rely on their so-called promises."
He swept his gaze across the room. His eyes burning with resolve.
"We must do with what we have! No more blind patrols, we regroup and adapt!"
The squad leaders nodded, though unease lingered in their expressions. Outside, the camp stirred with quiet dread. Shinobi whispered among themselves, eyes darting toward the forest. The trees that once offered cover now loomed like sentinels of death.
Otsuchi stepped outside, surveying the camp. Medical tents were filling the wounded. Survivors spoke of chains that moved like serpents, of masked figures who vanished into smoke, and of fuinjutsu traps that detonated before they could even sense or react.
The enemy was evolving. And if Iwa didn't change its tactics, they would be swallowed whole.
He turned to his second-in-command. "Send word to HQ. We need reinforcements. And I want sensor-nin deployed along every patrol route. No one moves without a full sweep."
The Jonin nodded and hurried off.
Otsuchi stared at the forest edge, his expression unreadable. Somewhere out there, his shinobi were dying. And the silence that followed each missing team was becoming deafening.
***
The sun had barely risen, casting a blood-orange hue across the rugged terrain where the Kinkaku Butai had established their forward base. The air was thick with tension, and the scent of scorched earth still lingered from the previous night's skirmishes.
Inside the largest command tent, Kinkaku sat cross-legged, sharpening his massive cleaver like blade with deliberate strokes. Beside him, Ginkaku leaned against a support while crossing his arms as his golden hair caught the morning light. Neither spoke. But they were filled with expectation.
A scout burst through the flap, panting, his armor torn and stained with soot.
"Report," Kinkaku growled without looking up.
The scout dropped to one knee. "Team Seven was… wiped out. There were no survivors. We found remnants of fuinjutsu marks and traps, unique to Uzumaki clan."
Ginkaku's eyes narrowed. "That's fifth team this week."
Another messenger entered, clutching a scroll. "Team Nine and Ten failed to report. Retrieval squad found only scorched ground and fragments of their gear. No bodies."
Kinkaku stood up, slinging his blade over his shoulder. "They're hunting us one by one."
Ginkaku stepped forward. His voice turned low and cold. "The Uzumaki weren't supposed to be here. We thought Kiri would occupy them. But now they're reinforcing Konoha and sealing off our advance."
A third aide entered, visible shaken. "Sir… Team Eleven returned. But… only one survived."
Kinkaku slammed his blade into the ground, the impact shaking the tent. "Enough. We underestimated them. These aren't ordinary shinobi – Uzumakis aren't simple seal masters. They are also adept at sensory skills.... Clearly, they are reading our movements like a children's picture book."
Ginkaku turned to the gathered jonins. "We need to change tactics. No more small teams or small probing strikes. Gather our forces, burn through their traps and overwhelm their seals before they can react."
One jonin hesitated. "But sir… Raikage-sama ordered us to hold these grounds. Also their sensory perimeter is vast. They're detecting us before we even cross the ridge. We will be walking in blind."
Kinkaku's eyes gleamed with fury. "The best defense is a swift and decisive offense! Give those Konoha and Uzumaki fools something they can't ignore. A storm. A slaughter."
Outside, the camp stirred with unease. The Kinkaku Butai were elite – feared across nations – but even they were shaken by the silent, surgical precision of the Uzumaki reinforcements. The forest had become a graveyard, and the red-haired specters that haunted it were rewriting the rules of engagement.
Ginkaku stepped out of the tent, surveying the horizon. "They think they can toy us around with their seals. Then let's show them what we are Truly made of."