"Stay inside the carriage. Don't move," Fujimoto Tōma said quietly. "I'll check outside."
"Alright. Be careful," the elderly craftsman replied as he hastily finished dressing. His movements were calm, practiced. This wasn't his first brush with danger.
Tōma nodded, then glanced at the boy still frozen in panic. "Keep the kunai I gave you on you."
Before either of them could respond, his figure vanished from the carriage.
The boy snapped out of it and fumbled for the rough-looking kunai he'd mocked earlier, gripping it so tightly his palm soaked with sweat. The old man placed a steady hand on his shoulder, grounding him.
Outside, the night sky was pitch black. Even the moon had been swallowed by clouds.
Tōma appeared atop the carriage roof and immediately frowned.
So that was it.
The entire convoy was blanketed in thick fog. Dense. Unnatural. At this hour, at this concentration, there was only one explanation.
Hidden Mist Technique.
The fog itself disrupted his perception. Not completely, but enough to be annoying. Thankfully, his sensory abilities didn't rely on sight alone.
Shadows flickered in the mist. Dim lanterns. Torches. Shouting. Cursing. Screams.
Chaos had already spread.
One thing stood out immediately.
There were no guards near this carriage.
The drivers were gone. The hired warriors nowhere to be seen.
Tōma exhaled slowly. He'd expected as much. Those men were fine posturing in daylight, but when real danger struck, survival came first. If they hadn't run, they were probably scattered and fighting for their own lives.
This carriage was large. Too large.
A perfect target.
Tōma drew his blade.
Chakra flowed lightly into his legs, just enough to boost his speed. These attackers weren't shinobi. They didn't deserve more.
He moved.
Footsteps cut through the fog ahead. Careless. Loud. Unaware.
Good.
Tōma surged forward, a shadow slipping through the mist. The man barely had time to widen his eyes before steel flashed.
One slash.
The body collapsed. The head followed a heartbeat later.
Tōma didn't stop.
He flowed through the attackers like a silent storm, each step precise, each strike final. He never swung twice. He didn't need to. By the time they realized someone was among them, the blade was already at their throats.
The fog terrified the convoy.
It unsettled the attackers.
But for a sensory-type shinobi?
It was a gift.
I know exactly where you are.You don't even know I exist.
The last man gurgled, clutching his neck as Tōma sheathed his blade and stepped away.
A second later, the body fell apart.
Tōma returned to the carriage roof, scanning the darkness.
Hidden Mist… honestly, it felt like cheating. Even the Mist shinobi weren't immune to its effects. They were just used to it. He wasn't affected at all.
Shame it wasn't a technique easily learned. If only he had a Mist-nin teammate.
The air grew thick with the smell of blood and smoke.
More footsteps.
Tōma tightened his grip.
Tonight wasn't over.
By the time the sounds faded, dozens of bodies lay hidden beneath the fog around the carriage. Tōma remained standing atop it, unmoving.
Inside, the elderly craftsman finally couldn't hold back any longer. "Black Shadow… what's happening out there?"
Tōma checked again with his senses. Some attackers had noticed the bodies and rerouted, shaken. Their real target was the convoy's cargo, not this death trap.
For now, it was safe.
He dropped back into the carriage.
The old man was pale. The boy clung to him, knuckles white.
"It's fine," Tōma said. "But the guards you hired never came."
The man's face darkened, then he looked at Tōma sharply.
"I'm here," Tōma added calmly. "Nothing will happen."
The confidence in his voice wasn't bravado. With his markings in place, protecting people was trivial.
The craftsman swallowed, then bowed his head slightly. "Then I leave them in your hands. From now on, if you ever need ninja tools made, come to us."
Tōma's eyes lit up.
So that was it.
Now he understood why the Third Hokage had assigned him here. This wasn't just protection. It was connections. Carefully chosen ones.
His teammates, too.
Tenzo's Wood Release.The Inuzuka member.The one with deep ties to the medical division.
The old man really did plan everything.
Tōma sighed quietly and stepped back onto the carriage roof.
Then he sensed it.
Shinobi.
Finally.
In the distance, his captain had already engaged Mist ninja. Tōma hadn't moved to assist. His assignment was clear.
But now that others were approaching…
Things wouldn't stay easy.
He gripped his blade.
A voice drifted through the thinning fog. "Why are there so many bodies here? Don't tell me the people we were supposed to protect are already dead."
Tōma relaxed slightly.
Leaf shinobi.
One more weakness in his sensory ability surfaced then. He could detect chakra perfectly, but not identity. Strength gave clues, but it wasn't reliable.
Something to work on later.
For now, he pulled out his Leaf forehead protector and tied it on.
The fog thinned further as moonlight broke through, illuminating him atop the carriage.
Black combat gear.A bloodstained blade.A Leaf headband gleaming under the moon.
And behind him, the full moon hung like a silent witness.
The three Leaf genin froze.
Because from the very beginning—
He had been watching them.