Maki's chakra surged outward in a rippling pulse, her sensory field expanding far beyond its normal range. She'd never dropped it entirely, of course, any competent sensor would maintain at least a passive veil, but now she pushed it to its limit.
'These chakra signatures…' Her brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. 'They're stronger than ours.'
Much stronger.
She hadn't expected this. As a Kage, she was no stranger to powerful opponents, nor was she afraid of them. Her own strength eclipsed that of several other village heads after all but this wasn't just a confrontation, this was a trap.
And her people weren't ready.
'We chose this route to lure out whoever's behind the tension with Konoha… but I didn't expect them to deploy forces this capable.'
It made no sense. If the culprit orchestrated everything behind the scenes, then why would they send such a powerful force and reveal themselves now? Maki and the other leaders of Takimura thought that they would send either spies or, at worst, assassins… but definitely not a powerful force consisting of several squads.
She observed her escort taking up defensive formations. Ao, Akura, and Illumi Noda were already barking orders. The other shinobi followed without hesitation, moving with disciplined coordination. Still, she could feel it in the air - the tension, the realization that they might not live to see tomorrow. But despite the lingering heavy thoughts, none of the Takimura shinobi hesitated.
"Protect Lady Suikage at all cost!"
"We'll die before they lay a hand on you, Lady First!"
…
The declarations only made Maki's chest tighten. They meant well. But shinobi below jonin… most of them wouldn't survive what was coming. Not unless she did something now.
'I can't let them die…'
Her sensory range compressed in an instant as she stirred her chakra. Markings spread across her skin. Her pupils narrowed into vertical slits. A low hum distorted the air as her energy coiled upward, forming a phantom mane around her neck like a predator baring its fangs.
Samehada was already in her hand.
She hesitated for the briefest moment, weighing whether to merge with the blade or hold back. But that moment passed.
'No time to think.'
With a burst of speed, she kicked off the ground, her sandals grinding into the dirt as she launched herself toward the treeline - toward the enemy signatures clustered just beyond sight. The atmosphere shifted behind her as the rest of the envoy locked into position, Illumi and Akura leading the defense while Ao coordinated the rear.
Maki didn't look back.
Just before she reached the treeline, a flash of silver cut through the air. A shuriken. She pivoted sharply, the blade slicing past her cheek, close enough to burn.
It didn't drop.
It kept going, flying clean through the forest canopy without losing height, proving the strength behind the attack.
Then a figure stepped from the shadows - fast, aggressive, weapon already in mid-swing.
Maki raised Samehada in an instant, the two blades crashing with a resounding clang that echoed through the trees. Sparks scattered from the point of contact.
Her eyes locked onto the attacker.
Pale skin. Muscular frame. Rows of sharp, shark-like teeth. The chakra rolling off him was dense and powerful.
'I know him…' she immediately recognized. 'He helped Mangetsu during our duel. But why would a Kiri shinobi be here? There is no way Yagura would make a move, at least not openly…'
Her eyes moved up to his forehead protector. The Mist symbol was slashed clean through.
'A rogue?'
Only then did she notice the robe Kisame was wearing. One she had already seen before. That explained the ambush. It didn't explain why - but right now, she didn't need answers.
She needed momentum.
Spinning sharply on her heel, Maki drove a brutal side kick into Kisame's ribs. The impact cracked through the trees like thunder. He flew back through the underbrush, slamming through two trunks before rolling to a stop.
Maki exhaled slowly, raising Samehada again, her expression cold and composed.
'This fight isn't going to be easy.'
She stepped forward without hesitation, eyes locked on the figure now charging straight at her.
'His chakra was higher the last time we crossed paths, which means he is suppressing it now,' Maki thought, sliding into the rhythm of his blade and catching the first wave on Samehada. Kisame pressed hard in fast chains, the work of a man who lived inside a sword.
Maki answered with shorter motion and heavier power, shutting his angles, reading the tiny shifts in his shoulders and the way his heel bit the ground a breath before each swing. He had the edge in kenjutsu form, but she was stronger, quicker, and her sharpened instincts kept telling her where the next strike would land before the steel arrived.
'I should not use my full power. Something is off. He does not feel like the one leading this ambush,' she decided, the unease pulling at her gut like a thread. Kisame had chosen a frontal start and that alone was strange. He must have understood that his strength wouldn't be enough against Maki, and if he did, why open the way for her to break him early? The feeling that she was missing something did not pass. It only grew.
'I'm glad he came with us. Even if he made us promise that we wouldn't ask him to fight for the village, I doubt he will stand idly and let our shinobi die.' Her eyes flicked once toward the convoy. One cart still held its passenger, the drape unmoved, the silhouette still. Around it, Ao was placing the med-nin and the nin who were better at support roles, his voice steady as he set the spacing and the retreat lines.
"The group coming for us is dangerous; the front will not be able to cover you once contact starts, so you keep a safe distance and move only when called. I will stay aro…"
His words cut off. The veins around his eye swelled as the Byakugan locked, and his head turned a fraction toward a line of trees, his stance relaxing instead of tightening, the old habit of a man who had learned to breathe on battlefields.
'Looks like I will be fighting today after all,' Ao thought, drawing a kunai and testing its weight with a small smile that did not reach his eyes. 'Peace never sat well on me. I missed this.'
Branches trembled. A figure jumped from the shade rather than trying to slip past it, robe flaring as his feet found the earth. It was a long black cloak with red clouds stitched in wide strokes, high collar hiding the throat, sleeves loose and heavy, the hem opening just enough to show the legs as he moved. He did not rush. He did not hide.
'Why wouldn't he even attempt to strike from cover?!' Ao wondered, then saw the jawline and the eyes and the cut of the mouth and knew.
"Juzo Biwa," he said under his breath, surprise cracking through the calm. One of the Seven who had gone missing long before Ao left the Mist, a name most in Kiri had already buried in rumor and old reports. Not a ghost after all. Standing on Takimura's road in a clouded cloak, very much alive and very ready.
But it wasn't Juzo's sudden reappearance that set Ao on edge so much as the symbol stitched into his robe; if it had been only Juzo, Ao might have met him with a veteran's calm and even welcomed the duel, yet he had already tasted the dense, oceanic chakra rolling off Kisame, who wore the same clouded cloak, and he had read the report on Kakuzu's assault on Shin and Mizuki, which turned rumor into pattern.
'This group isn't some pack of hired blades; they're organized and far too strong to dismiss. Three confirmed jōnin already… and who knows how many more, or who leads them. But even that isn't what matters most - the question is why an organization like this would ambush Takimura at all.'
"I'll enjoy this," Juzo said, lifting the massive blade from his back and tasting it in his hands, like he was not comfortable with it. "I'll savor killing every last one of you who took my sword."
His mouth twisted into a feral smile, the expression unhinged, but the eyes… those were steady and cold with hatred.
"We're not from Kirigakure," Ao replied, though even he wasn't sure why he bothered. Maybe it was an attempt, the last thread of caution before steel, or a reflex to try every path that wasn't slaughter.
"You're all the same," Juzo sneered and then he moved, air tearing off his shoulders as the great blade sliced forward with startling speed.
Byakugan and muscle memory answered together. Ao stepped into the cut rather than away, the kunai in his hand angling with ruthless precision to redirect the incoming steel. Big swords carried power, but they also carried inertia; once you tilted them off-line, they fought their wielder as much as their target. For a man like Ao, that gap was all the invitation he needed.
As the blade missed its intended trajectory, Ao slid closer, shoulders tight, and ripped a slash across Juz's chest where the cloak parted.
Steel met no flesh.
Only water.
Juzo collapsed into a splash at Ao's feet.
'A water clone? How did he slip that past my Byakugan?' Ao's brow tightened as his vision swept the canopy, but before he could lock onto the real Juzo, the change in the ground's shadow told him what the eyes had already begun to warn.
'Up.'
He pivoted on his heel, weight dropping, retreat lines already mapped in his head as he braced to absorb the next hit, but Juzo didn't close for melee.
"Water Release: Water Bullet Technique!"
Still midair, he spat a razor-thin lance of water that screamed toward Ao, pressure coiled tight enough to pierce armor.
'Shit…' Ao's eyes widened, every sense tightening to a single point. 'I can't dodge this, how am I supposed to survive this…'
The thought spiraled, dragging him down; for a heartbeat he stopped resisting, mind loosening its grip as the incoming pressure carved a clean line toward his chest; then a lean flash of steel cut across his vision, the sword's edge throwing a sheet of water forward that split the incoming technique in two, the compressed jet shearing apart with a hiss that stung the air.
"Get to your senses," Akura barked, shouldering into him hard enough to break his balance and make him stumble, and in the same motion he pushed his chakra through Ao's system, a clear, bracing shock that snapped along the pathways. "You're under genjutsu. Wake up."
"But how did a genjutsu catch me without me noticing it," Ao muttered, the words still muffled, confusion pressing against his forehead like a weight he couldn't lift fast enough.
"No time," Akura said, cutting him off. "Help the others. You'll do more good there. I'll handle this one."
He didn't wait for agreement. He was already moving, blade low, feet silent, closing on Juzo, who had shifted to a new angle and reset his stance.
Only then did Ao truly see the field again, the blur clearing as the world sharpened into lines and distances. Almost every Takimura shinobi was engaged, clashing with figures in dark cloaks among the trees and along the ruts of the road, the convoy's formation half-broken as med-nin dragged the wounded behind the carts and sealers tried to raise barriers that refused to hold under the pressure.
'What the fuck is happening?'
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