First Blood

Four figures emerged from the fog.

Their faces were covered with black cloth. They carried swords and kept their steps low, leaving decent gaps as they ran—at least they'd received some training.

Murakami Takuya drew his sword three inches, then slid it back once he'd seen the attackers.

He rested his hand on the hilt and leaned his shoulder against a tree trunk.

The message was clear.

Kitahara Kaede glanced over.

There were four of them. None had any chakra, and their weapons were ordinary forged longswords. They had some foundation in their running form, but they weren't professionals.

He took half a step back.

He didn't need opponents like these, but Tsunade and Jiraiya did.

"Tsunade, Jiraiya, they're yours."

Before he'd even finished speaking, Tsunade was already charging forward.

As the first shadow brought his sword down, Kitahara Kaede noticed Tsunade's eyes. She wasn't watching the blade. She was watching her opponent's shoulder.

The shoulder moved first, then the sword followed. It was the method of judgment Hiruzen-sensei had taught them.

She'd learned it well.

She dodged the blade with a sidestep and slammed her right fist into the man's face.

There was no hesitation in her punch.

Her knuckles struck his cheekbone with a brief, dull crack.

His head jerked back. He slammed into a tree trunk, slid down, and didn't move again.

The second man circled around from the side, aiming his blade straight at her ribs.

Tsunade ducked, swept his legs out from under him, and flipped him onto the ground. She pinned him down, planted her knee firmly on the wrist holding his sword, and brought her elbow down.

A brief, muffled groan.

Fast and clean. The whole thing took less than ten seconds.

Things were much livelier on the other side.

Jiraiya charged in like a sparrow that had only just learned to fly. He thrust his kunai at the man, missed, and only grazed his shoulder, cutting through a layer of cloth and leaving a shallow gash.

The man grunted in pain and swept his sword back at him.

Jiraiya jumped backward, his heel landed on a wet stone, and he fell flat on his back.

The back of his head hit the ground, and his vision flashed white for a moment.

The sword came down.

He raised his kunai to block it.

Steel clanged against steel, sparks spraying across his face. The impact numbed his hand, and he nearly lost his grip.

The blade caught in the notch of his kunai.

They stared at each other across their crossed weapons for less than a second. The man's eyes showed through the black cloth, his pupils wide and bloodshot.

He was scared.

But scared people were more dangerous than those who weren't, because they would fight with everything they had.

The man pressed down harder.

Jiraiya's arms trembled as his kunai sank inch by inch.

The blade was only three fingers' breadth from his nose.

He rolled to the side.

The sword slammed into the muddy ground where his head had just been, sinking two inches into the earth.

Without time to think, Jiraiya rolled over and scrambled to his feet, gripping his kunai tight as he thrust it forward.

This time, he didn't miss.

The kunai passed through cloth with almost no resistance, but the moment it reached muscle, it was different. A sticky resistance traveled from the blade back into his palm.

The man stiffened.

His sword slipped from his hand and hit the ground.

A drop of blood ran down the kunai and fell onto the back of Jiraiya's hand.

The fourth man watched all three of his companions fall within seconds. He couldn't even raise his sword properly before turning and running.

Kitahara Kaede flicked his wrist, sending a shuriken flying.

The man lurched forward a couple of steps, his legs gave way, and he dropped to his knees before collapsing face-first onto the grass.

Kitahara Kaede lowered his hand.

He hadn't moved from where he stood the entire time.

His eyes had stayed on Tsunade from start to finish. He'd thrown the shuriken with his left hand, while his right had remained wrapped around his kunai.

If any one of the four had posed a real threat to Tsunade, he would have reached her before anyone else.

But there'd been no need.

Tsunade had handled them herself.

The camp fell quiet.

The sound of the stream became clear again, just as it had been a few minutes earlier, as if nothing had happened.

Her right fist was still clenched.

Her hand didn't quite feel like her own. Those two punches had come too fast. Her body had finished striking before her mind even caught up.

She looked down at the person on the ground.

His chest still rose and fell, but faintly—and with each breath, more faintly still.

During training, they'd hit straw dummies. Once they were done, they'd dusted off their hands and left.

Straw dummies didn't make a sound, fall backward, or give your fist that feeling of bones shifting out of place.

She didn't speak. She took a deep breath and lowered her fist.

On the other side, Jiraiya bent over and vomited.

He braced himself on his knees, retched twice, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

He still hadn't put down the kunai in his hand. The blood on it had already started to darken.

He stared at the kunai, his lips moving.

"...It was... easier than I thought."

His voice was very quiet, as if he were saying it to himself.

He wasn't bragging.

He'd realized something that frightened him: killing someone had been far easier than he'd imagined.

He'd thought he wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it, that he'd hesitate at some point.

But he hadn't. When he'd thrust the kunai in, his hand had been steady.

He didn't know how to process it.

Kitahara Kaede glanced at them.

He didn't say anything.

The first time he'd been on a battlefield, he'd been in worse shape than Tsunade and Jiraiya.

He walked over to the bodies and crouched, opening the coat of the first one.

There was no Forehead Protector or ninja tool pouch, but a hidden pocket had been sewn into the inside of his belt.

Kitahara Kaede pried it open with a kunai. Three Soldier Ration Pills spilled out.

He picked one up and held it beneath his nose.

They weren't civilian imitations. They were standard provisions issued by a ninja village.

He checked the second body, then the third. Soldier Ration Pills, bandages, hemostatic powder—the standard field supplies, all there.

Kitahara Kaede stood up.

"Something's wrong."

He tossed the Soldier Ration Pills to Murakami Takuya.

"These men had no chakra, but their equipment was up to ninja standards. Soldier Ration Pills are standard provisions issued by a ninja village. Civilians have no access to the ingredients."

Murakami Takuya caught them and took a look. He didn't deny it.

"Wandering samurai don't carry this stuff. And wandering samurai wouldn't just happen to find our camp." Kitahara Kaede said.

Murakami Takuya fell silent for a few seconds.

"Good judgment."

He paused. "But it's only a guess. We can't leave until we know what's really going on."

His gaze passed over Kitahara Kaede and landed on Tsunade and Jiraiya a few meters away.

"Let them catch their breath first."

Kitahara Kaede walked over to Tsunade.

She was still standing, back straight and chin slightly raised.

It was a habit of hers when she didn't want people to notice she wasn't feeling well.

He took a canteen from his ninja tool pouch, unscrewed the cap, and held it out to her.

Tsunade glanced at him.

She didn't take it.

She pulled out her own canteen, unscrewed it, and took a long drink.

Then she poured the rest of the water over her right hand and rubbed it clean.

"Let's go." She screwed the cap back on without another word.

Kitahara Kaede put his canteen away and said nothing.

She wasn't rejecting him.

She just didn't want anyone handing her something right now or treating her like someone who needed comfort.

Jiraiya walked over too.

He'd finally lowered the kunai in his hand, wiped it clean on the grass, and put it back in his ninja tool pouch.

His movements were twice as slow as usual, but his hand had stopped shaking.

He looked at Kitahara Kaede and opened his mouth.

Normally, he could've spouted ten or eight lines of nonsense. But this time, he chewed on his lips for a long while and couldn't get a single word out.

In the end, he simply pulled the notebook labeled "Heroic, Handsome Pose for Sudden Arrival (Tentative)" from his pocket, looked at it, and shoved it into the bottom of his pack.

"Move out." Murakami Takuya turned east. "Twelve kilometers ahead. We'll reach the perimeter before dawn."

The four of them packed up camp.

They moved quickly, without a word.

The sky was still dark, but the clouds to the east had begun to turn gray.

Tsunade walked ahead of Kitahara Kaede, her ponytail swaying gently with each step. Her pace was no different from usual.

Jiraiya brought up the rear, carrying the large pack he'd lugged the whole way. His steps were a little heavier than before.

Their footsteps crunched along the gravel path as the sound of the stream gradually faded behind them.