As soon as Ren finished speaking, Minato Namikaze, Shikuro Aburame, and Tsume Inuzuka stepped straight into Little Green's enormous open mouth without hesitation.
The giant lizard immediately closed its jaws.
Chakra flowed through its body.
Its massive dark-green frame gradually blurred, becoming translucent before fading almost completely into the surrounding environment. With Shikuro's Silencing Insects suppressing the faint noises caused by its movements, the giant lizard slipped through the forest like a ghost.
For several moments, everything was quiet.
Only the soft rustle of leaves remained.
Then—
One of the Kusagakure patrol shinobi suddenly frowned.
He turned toward the forest.
Little Green froze instantly.
Its chakra flow dropped to the bare minimum.
The faint distortion outlining its body vanished almost completely.
The Grass shinobi stared for several seconds.
Nothing.
He narrowed his eyes, scanned the trees again, then finally shook his head.
"Probably nothing."
His companion shrugged.
The two resumed their conversation.
Only after their attention shifted away did Little Green begin moving again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Two hundred meters.
The abandoned warehouse was now close enough that Ren could clearly make out individual tiles on its aging roof.
And then—
The sensory shinobi's head snapped up.
His gaze locked directly onto Little Green's position.
"Wait!"
Everyone nearby turned.
The sensory shinobi's expression changed sharply.
"Something's coming from over there!"
Ren clicked his tongue.
So much for stealth.
He immediately thought back to the strange Purple Mud Fruit his Summoning Technique had mentioned earlier.
Apparently, finding that thing for Little Green really did need to move higher on his priority list.
The lizard's concealment ability was extremely useful against ordinary eyes, but once it got too close to an experienced sensory-type shinobi, hiding its chakra became much more difficult.
And now?
They had already been discovered.
There was no longer any point pretending otherwise.
Minato's voice became cold.
"Move."
The operation exploded into violence.
Tsume and Shikuro burst out from Little Green almost simultaneously.
Two dark figures tore across the ground.
The nearest Kusagakure shinobi barely had time to react.
Tsume reached them first.
She deliberately avoided using the Inuzuka clan's more recognizable Beast Mimicry techniques, relying purely on speed, strength, and taijutsu.
Her fist smashed into one shinobi's chest.
CRACK!
The man flew backward like a rag doll.
Before the second could shout, Tsume spun and drove her heel into the side of his head.
He crashed into the dirt several meters away and did not rise.
Shikuro was quieter.
Far more frighteningly so.
Two Grass shinobi rushed toward him with kunai drawn.
They passed within arm's reach.
That was enough.
One stumbled.
Then the other.
Dark purple-black markings crawled across their skin.
Their bodies stiffened.
Neither even managed to scream properly before they collapsed.
Ren watched for half a second.
Shikuro's microscopic venomous insects really were terrifying.
Most Aburame techniques drained chakra.
Shikuro's insects simply killed.
Clean.
Fast.
And, conveniently, difficult to identify afterward.
The operation immediately became chaotic.
Yet Kusagakure wasn't completely helpless.
The scar-faced Jonin reacted almost instantly.
Steel flashed.
He drew his sword and intercepted Tsume with a violent slash.
CLANG!
Tsume blocked.
Sparks exploded between them.
The Grass Jonin was clearly weaker, but not weak enough to be disposed of in one exchange.
Within moments, the two became locked in a rapid melee.
Shikuro turned toward the remaining patrol shinobi.
Ren and Minato ignored the fight completely.
Their objective was the warehouse.
They reached the entrance in seconds.
Minato appeared beside the sealed doorway.
His fingers touched several complicated barrier formulas carved around the frame.
Chakra flowed from his palm.
Ren waited.
Five seconds.
Eight.
Ten.
Then—
Click.
The barrier shimmered.
For one brief instant, a thin layer of blue chakra became visible around the warehouse.
Then it collapsed like a bubble.
"Go."
Ren moved.
He smashed through the door.
---
A few minutes earlier.
Inside the abandoned warehouse, life had been considerably less exciting.
The building smelled of dust, stale alcohol, medicinal herbs, blood, and old wood.
Most windows had been sealed.
Only several weak oil lamps illuminated the interior.
Along one wall stood crude iron beds.
Five prisoners were chained there.
Their wrists and ankles were locked in thick iron restraints.
Among them were two people with unmistakable red hair.
One was a man.
His hair had lost some of its natural brightness, becoming dull and lifeless.
The other was a woman.
Her hair remained vivid crimson.
Beautiful once, perhaps.
Now it only made her pale face and exhausted expression more striking.
Both were covered with wounds.
Old bite marks.
Needle marks.
Bruises.
Their eyes were empty.
The kind of emptiness that came when someone had already stopped expecting rescue.
Nearby, four Kusagakure shinobi sat around a battered wooden table.
Cards were scattered across its surface.
Cheap cigarettes burned between their fingers.
Several empty sake bottles lay on the ground.
Guard duty bored them.
Why wouldn't it?
There were patrols outside.
Barriers around the building.
A Jonin nearby.
If an enemy could break through all of that, what exactly were four ordinary guards supposed to do?
One Grass shinobi leaned back in his chair, cigarette hanging from his mouth.
"Hey, Jiro."
A man across from him looked up.
"What?"
"Didn't your younger brother go to Konoha for the Chunin Exams?"
Jiro grinned immediately.
"Yeah. Saburo."
"It's been more than a week, right? No message yet?"
The cigarette-smoking shinobi smirked.
"Maybe Konoha locked him up."
"Bullshit."
Jiro slapped a card onto the table.
"My brother's a genius."
The others laughed.
"He's thirteen and already Chunin level."
Jiro puffed out his chest.
"Those spoiled Konoha brats grow up protected inside their village. Half of them probably haven't even smelled real blood."
He tapped the table.
"Saburo will crush them."
Then his grin became uglier.
"Besides…"
The others glanced toward him.
"He was allowed to take some of that."
Silence.
Everyone understood.
Their eyes unconsciously drifted toward the red-haired woman.
The cigarette-smoking shinobi clicked his tongue.
"The Uzumaki really are monsters."
He leaned forward.
"Drink a little of her blood and wounds start closing. Chakra comes back too."
He chuckled.
"Better than soldier pills."
The woman didn't react.
Perhaps she had heard the same conversation too many times.
One of the other guards, a short heavyset man, laughed.
"Shame there's only one useful one."
His eyes moved between the red-haired captives.
"Give the researchers time."
Jiro raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
The heavyset shinobi smirked.
"I heard the higher-ups are considering breeding the two Uzumaki together."
The others laughed.
"Seriously?"
"Why wouldn't they?"
He jerked his chin toward the prisoners.
"If their bloodline can produce more people with that healing ability, the village would have an endless supply."
His smile widened.
"The only reason they haven't started yet is because some idiot in the medical division thinks mixing bloodlines might weaken the effect."
The red-haired woman's fingers tightened faintly around the chains.
The heavyset man didn't notice.
"Otherwise they'd probably keep her producing children until she died."
Then—
BOOM.
Every guard froze.
The warehouse door had been smashed open.
Wind rushed inside.
Cards fluttered off the table.
One oil lamp flickered violently.
"What the hell?"
The guards jumped to their feet.
For a fraction of a second, they saw nothing.
Then—
A figure appeared several meters away.
White hair.
Dark clothing.
A short blade at his waist.
A Cloud forehead protector.
Young.
Far too young.
Yet the boy's eyes were cold enough to silence the entire room.
"Who are you?!"
"Kumogakure?"
"Enemy!"
"Kill him!"
Kunai appeared.
Hands began forming seals.
Ren exhaled slowly.
His fingers touched the hilt of his blade.
His voice was quiet.
Almost gentle.
"Instant Hell Shadow Kill Formation."
His eyes sharpened.
"Open."
Hum—
The warehouse seemed to distort.
For one impossible instant, the four Grass shinobi saw several Rens.
No.
Afterimages.
One in front.
One beside them.
One behind.
One near the wall.
Then all of them vanished.
Ren stood behind the four guards.
His blade was already sliding back into its sheath.
Clang.
The sound was crisp.
Almost elegant.
The guards blinked.
One looked confused.
That was it?
All that speed—
Just to pose?
Then—
PSSHT!
Blood erupted.
Four crimson lines appeared across four throats.
Blood sprayed across the wooden table.
Cards turned red.
A sake bottle rolled through the growing pool.
One guard desperately clutched his neck.
"Ghk—!"
Another attempted to turn.
His legs failed.
The third dropped immediately.
The fourth lasted perhaps two seconds longer.
Then all four collapsed.
Silence returned.
The entire exchange had taken less than a second.
If someone could have slowed the scene down frame by frame, they might have seen the truth.
Ren had moved four times.
Draw.
Slash.
Step.
Slash.
Pivot.
Slash.
Reverse.
Slash.
Four positions.
Four cuts.
One heartbeat.
But to ordinary eyes?
Ren had disappeared.
Then four people died.
The prisoners stared at him.
Fear.
Shock.
Disbelief.
And underneath all of that—
Hope.
One hostage swallowed hard.
"Who…"
Ren raised one finger to his lips.
"Shh."
Then he moved again.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Five sets of chains fell apart almost simultaneously.
The prisoners barely had time to understand that they were free.
Ren appeared behind the first.
A precise chop struck the back of the neck.
The hostage collapsed.
The second.
Third.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Thump.
All five fell unconscious.
Ren looked down at them.
The original mission only required one Uzumaki.
But leaving the others behind would create problems.
They could be interrogated.
They could reveal details.
They could describe him.
More importantly—
After hearing what these guards had just been saying, Ren had absolutely no intention of leaving anyone chained inside this place.
Taking them all was simply cleaner.
"Little Green."
A massive invisible shape near the doorway shimmered.
The giant lizard opened its mouth.
Its tongue shot out.
Slurp.
One hostage disappeared.
Again.
Second.
Third.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Five unconscious prisoners vanished into its mouth.
Ren stared.
Little Green stared back.
Ren decided not to think too carefully about the internal storage arrangement.
"Let's go."
He turned.
And sprinted from the warehouse.
Outside, the fight was already ending.
Bodies littered the ground.
Some had crushed throats.
Some had blades through vital points.
Others bore no obvious injuries at all—the ones Shikuro had touched.
The scar-faced Jonin lay face-down several meters away.
Tsume stood nearby, breathing slightly heavier than before.
Kuromaru growled.
Minato turned as Ren emerged.
"Success?"
Ren nodded.
"All five."
Minato's eyebrow rose.
"All?"
"Long story."
"Good enough."
Then a distant whistle cut through the air.
Fweeeeeee!
Another followed.
Then shouting.
"Enemy attack!"
"Western warehouse!"
"Reinforcements!"
Minato immediately looked toward the village.
"Time to leave."
He glanced at Ren.
"You move first."
Then Tsume.
"Go."
Shikuro had already released another wave of insects.
The group withdrew.
Minato remained behind.
The first Kusagakure reinforcements appeared on the rooftops.
Kunai flashed.
Minato's arm blurred.
Shhk! Shhk! Shhk!
Kunai and shuriken flew in multiple directions.
Several pursuing shinobi were forced to dodge.
One crashed into a wall.
Another deflected two projectiles before abruptly realizing the third had been aimed at his escape route.
He jumped backward.
Too late.
Minato formed several hand seals.
Then slammed both palms against the ground.
"Lightning Release: Spider Web!"
ZZZZZAAAAAP!
Blue lightning exploded outward.
The ground lit up.
Thin branches of electricity raced across dirt, stone, and walls, multiplying rapidly until they formed a massive web covering hundreds of square meters.
Three Grass shinobi landed directly inside it.
Their expressions changed.
"Wait—"
Electricity surged through their bodies.
"AAAAARGH!"
Muscles locked.
Bodies convulsed.
They collapsed.
Others stopped immediately.
"Lightning Release?!"
"Cloud shinobi!"
"Spread out!"
Several reacted quickly and launched Wind Release techniques into the electrical field.
But Minato had already moved.
The kunai he had thrown earlier weren't merely weapons.
Several had explosive tags attached.
The fuses burned down.
BOOM!
BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions ripped through the street.
Smoke and dust swallowed the pursuers.
Walls cracked.
Roof tiles shattered.
Visibility disappeared.
Minato vanished with the Body Flicker Technique.
By the time Kusagakure's reinforcements emerged from the smoke, he was already hundreds of meters away.
Ren glanced toward him while sprinting through the trees.
"You know Lightning Release?"
Minato looked almost embarrassed.
"A little."
"A little?"
Ren remembered the enormous electrical web.
"That covered half a street."
Minato laughed.
"I learned some basics from Lord Third."
Ren almost stumbled.
"That's your definition of basics?"
"I'm really not very good at Lightning Release."
Minato shrugged.
"I mostly keep it for situations where I need something less recognizable."
Ren understood immediately.
The Yellow Flash using Flying Thunder God would scream Konoha.
The Yellow Flash throwing Lightning Release while wearing a Cloud forehead protector?
That pointed in an entirely different direction.
Minato glanced behind them.
"Focus."
His expression became serious again.
"We're still inside Kusagakure's sphere of control."
Ren nodded.
Because the real problem was only beginning.
Kusagakure might not possess the same elite quality as Konoha, Iwa, Kumo, or Suna—
But they had numbers.
Lots of them.
Signal flares rose into the sky.
FWOOSH!
Red light exploded overhead.
Another flare appeared from the north.
Then one from the east.
The surrounding forest came alive.
Branches shook.
Footsteps approached from several directions.
Dozens.
Perhaps more.
"They're over there!"
"Cloud shinobi!"
"Stop them!"
"Don't let them escape!"
"Recover the blood bags!"
Ren's expression cooled at those final words.
Tsume heard them too.
Her lip curled.
"Blood bags."
Kuromaru snarled.
The first squad appeared ahead.
Ren's hand moved.
Water gathered.
"Water Release—"
Minato glanced toward him.
"Nothing distinctive."
"I know."
A compressed water projectile blasted forward.
Two Grass shinobi were knocked from the trees.
Tsume rushed through the opening.
Shikuro threw shuriken rather than releasing his insects.
They were all restricting themselves.
No Flying Thunder God.
No recognizable Inuzuka combination attacks.
No obvious Aburame swarms.
No signature Konoha techniques.
Only generic taijutsu.
Weapons.
Lightning.
Water.
Exactly what one might expect from a small Kumogakure raiding force.
Unfortunately—
That restraint gave the Grass shinobi confidence.
"They're slowing down!"
"We can take them!"
"Keep chasing!"
Another squad rushed in.
Tsume groaned.
"These idiots don't learn."
Ren ducked beneath a kunai.
His elbow struck one attacker beneath the chin.
The man's head snapped backward.
Ren seized his vest, spun, and threw him into his own teammate.
THUD!
Shikuro kicked another shinobi off a branch.
Minato sent lightning through the ground.
They continued running.
Another interception.
Another short battle.
More bodies.
Another retreat.
Then another squad.
Each time, the Grass shinobi seemed convinced that this group would finally stop the intruders.
Each time, several more corpses were left behind.
The forest gradually became a trail of defeat.
By the time Ren's group crossed beyond the outer perimeter of Kusagakure, the pursuers had changed.
The shouting was weaker.
The charging was slower.
The bravest Grass shinobi had already fallen.
The ones still standing began looking at the bodies scattered behind them.
One Chunin swallowed.
"Should we… keep going?"
Nobody answered.
Ahead, the supposed Kumogakure squad was still moving with terrifying speed.
They had already killed dozens.
And somehow—
They didn't even look particularly tired.
Another Grass shinobi looked toward the direction of the village.
"The prisoners were taken."
A third frowned.
"So?"
Everyone looked at him.
He shrugged.
"The higher-ups are the ones who use them."
Silence.
He continued.
"Have any of you ever gotten even one drop of that Uzumaki blood?"
Nobody spoke.
Of course not.
That privilege belonged to important people.
Medical researchers.
Officers.
Elite shinobi.
The ordinary Genin and Chunin risking their lives right now?
They received orders.
And salaries.
Bad salaries.
One man looked at the blood on his sleeve.
Then at the distant trees.
Then at the corpse of someone he had eaten breakfast with.
His face twitched.
"I make four thousand ryō a month."
Another immediately nodded.
"Mine's thirty-eight hundred."
The first stared at him.
"And we're supposed to chase those monsters?"
Silence.
Someone quietly lowered his kunai.
Another did the same.
The scar-faced Jonin was already dead.
Several patrol squads had been wiped out.
The intruders had broken through the warehouse, stolen every prisoner, carved a path through half the western district, and escaped the village perimeter.
At some point, bravery became stupidity.
The surviving Grass shinobi collectively reached the same conclusion.
One coughed.
"We should report this."
"Immediately."
"Definitely."
"Village security is more important."
"Exactly."
Nobody mentioned pursuing the enemy again.
They turned back toward Kusagakure.
Far ahead, Ren glanced over his shoulder.
The pursuers had disappeared.
Tsume noticed too.
"They gave up?"
Shikuro adjusted his glasses.
"Apparently."
Ren almost laughed.
After everything that had happened, perhaps Kusagakure's ordinary shinobi had finally remembered the most important rule of surviving the ninja world.
It was only a few thousand ryō a month.
Why risk your life?
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