Annihilating the Root Squad

He stopped walking. "After following me for so long, aren't you tired?" His voice was not loud, yet it carried far through the silent forest. Several resting crows were startled into flight, beating their wings as they vanished into the night. There was no response. Obito sighed and slowly turned around. Moonlight slipped through gaps in the branches and fell upon his orange spiral mask. Within its eyehole, the Sharingan glimmered with a faint red light, like the only living ember in the darkness. "Yamanaka Fū. Aburame Torune." He named them one by one, his tone as indifferent as if reading an irrelevant list. "And four more squads, twelve men. Hidden in the southeast, southwest, northeast, and northwest—three to a group, arranged in a diamond encirclement." He tilted his head slightly.

"Do you think I can't see you, or do you think I wouldn't dare kill you?"

A faint sound came from the treetops. Not one person—four people dropped from the branches at the same time, from different directions. Their landings nearly overlapped, sounding like a single person had touched down, displaying an extraordinary level of coordinated training.

Yamanaka Fū landed ten paces directly ahead, a short blade in his right hand while his left was tucked behind his back, three marking kunai pinched between his fingertips. His eyes were half-closed, Chakra flowing deep within his pupils—the Yamanaka Clan's secret technique had already been activated.

Aburame Torune emerged from the bushes on the left, both hands in his pockets, his posture as relaxed as though he were out for a stroll. But there was something wrong with his shadow—under the moonlight, countless tiny bumps wriggled within it. It was a visual distortion caused by Kikaichū moving simultaneously inside and across his body.

Behind the two of them, twelve Root members