Fujimoto Tōma pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"You're here."
The room was bare and quiet. A single figure in white sat behind a desk, wearing a mask. His voice was flat, stripped of emotion.
"You still have the option to turn back. This path is dangerous. I'd advise you to spend more time training under Tenzo before coming here."
"If I came," Tōma replied evenly, "then I have no intention of quitting."
He already knew who this was.
The head of ANBU.
"Very well," the man said, nodding. "By the Third Hokage's order, from today onward, you'll take missions directly from me."
A scroll flew across the desk. Tōma caught it.
"And I heard from the merit division that you've been selecting sword techniques," the ANBU commander continued. "This belonged to one of our more outstanding operatives in the past. We've reviewed it. It looks… unremarkable. Still, we suspect there's more to it. See if you can find something we couldn't."
Tōma paused, then accepted the scroll. "Thank you."
"There's also a mission suited to you. Interested?"
"Yes," Tōma answered without hesitation, eyes bright.
Another scroll was tossed over. "Pick up your identification from next door and head out. You have ten days, but sooner is better. Your performance will determine future assignments."
A trial mission, then.
"I understand."
Tōma left the room, leaving the ANBU commander to sigh quietly. There was already too much on his plate. But an order from the Third Hokage wasn't something he could refuse.
Back home, Tōma laid out his new identification and the two scrolls. There was no rush. He opened the sword manual first.
He hadn't expected much. Konoha wasn't known for swordsmanship.
At first glance, it really was… ordinary. Less refined than the techniques he'd already exchanged merit for.
Tōma frowned.
That didn't add up.
He took a breath, calmed his mind, and read it again. Slowly. Carefully. Running the movements through his head, one by one.
Still nothing obvious.
So this was just basic swordplay?
Then a thought struck him.
ANBU.Sword."Outstanding operative."
A name surfaced from vague memories.
Hatake Sakumo.
Tōma froze.
His eyes lit up as he went back to the scroll again.
This time, he understood.
On its own, the swordsmanship looked plain. No flourish. No excess. But once chakra and ninjutsu were factored in, its purpose became clear.
Efficiency.
Every movement was designed to merge seamlessly with shinobi combat. No wasted motion. No hesitation. Just killing as quickly and cleanly as possible.
Tōma exhaled slowly.
He'd struck gold.
Unfortunately, now wasn't the time to practice. He sealed the scroll away, prepared healing supplies, antidotes, and soldier pills, and left alone.
Yes. Alone.
Most shinobi worked in teams. Tōma didn't need one.
With Flying Thunder God, teammates often slowed him down more than they helped. This was the path he'd chosen.
One person was a squad.
Ten days to prove himself?
One was enough.
Deep in a dim forest, two Leaf shinobi crouched behind a massive tree, breathing hard.
"Did you call for backup?" one of them snapped. "How long until they get here? We can't hold much longer."
He peeked out and grimaced. The rogue shinobi were relentless. There had to be over a dozen chūnin-level fighters, and at least one whose strength he couldn't read.
"How did this many gather in one place?" he hissed.
"They probably didn't," the calmer one replied. "Bounty-nin. They heard about the shipment and rushed over. Now they're chasing us to silence witnesses."
"So what now?" the first asked grimly. "We're nowhere near Konoha…"
"Not necessarily," the calm shinobi said, clenching his kunai. "If the signal reached him… and if he's nearby…"
"The man himself?" the other whispered, eyes widening.
Before he could say more, the calm shinobi yanked him backward.
Shuriken slammed into the tree where they'd been standing.
"Well now," a voice laughed. "Nice reflexes. But this is where it ends."
More than a dozen rogue shinobi landed on nearby branches, grinning like wolves.
"You already took the supplies," the angry Leaf shinobi shouted. "Why keep chasing us?"
The leader licked his kunai. "Supplies are nice. But we also want your jutsu."
Shinobi techniques were priceless to rogues. After this, they'd scatter far away. Konoha wouldn't find them.
"You're not getting out of here," the leader said, stepping forward.
Cold sweat trickled down the calm shinobi's temple.
Is this it?
Then—
Thunder.
Before anyone could react, the leader was slammed against a tree, pinned through the chest by a kunai. His grin was still frozen on his face.
Silence fell.
No one understood what had happened.
A figure appeared, pulled the kunai free with a flick, and shook off the blood with mild annoyance. The blade had chipped. Apparently the target had been wearing some form of protection.
No one dared move.
A sword-bearing youth, no more than fourteen, stood calmly among them.
The calm Leaf shinobi stared, then laughed in disbelief. "We're… saved."
"Run!" someone screamed.
The rogues scattered in panic.
"Run?" Tōma murmured. "You think you can?"
He vanished.
The loud Leaf shinobi could only stare. The danger… was already gone.
The calm shinobi trembled with excitement. "That's Konoha's White Fang—Lord Black Shadow!"
"I thought it was Crimson Black Shadow?" the other asked weakly.
"That's just what people call him when no one survives," the calm shinobi snapped. "His codename is Black Shadow!"
Elsewhere, Tōma was already moving.
A flash of steel. One head fell.
Lightning surged. Another rogue tried to block—
Too slow.
The blade passed through where his guard should have been, striking flesh instead. By the time he understood, he was already dead.
Speed decided everything.
Lightning chakra surged through Tōma's body, accelerating him beyond perception. What remained behind was only an afterimage. The real blade had already moved on.
Two down.
Nine left.
A faint crimson glint flickered deep in Tōma's eyes as he vanished again.