The air was cold and damp enough to wring water from. Fog so thick it refused to disperse wrapped the dense forest on the southeastern border of the Land of Fire like a shroud haunted by the dead. Visibility was less than fifty meters, and the outlines of trees twisted in the milky chaos like lurking specters.
The layer of rotting leaves underfoot was soft and muddy. Every step demanded extra care to avoid making unnecessary noise or stumbling into a natural trap. Even birdsong and the chirping of insects had vanished. Only the squad members' suppressed breathing and heartbeats remained, unnervingly clear in the deathly silence.
Hatake Sakumo's squad slipped through this oppressive white labyrinth in a standard tactical formation.
Only a day had passed since the test of their abilities inside the tent. There had been no respite, no time to adjust. Before the faint light of dawn could dispel the chill, an encrypted order had arrived-a B-rank extermination mission targeting a Kirigakure assassination squad that plagued the rear of Konoha's defensive lines like a parasite, striking supply routes and isolated ninja.
Sakumo moved at the head of the squad, deliberately suppressing his presence until he seemed to merge with the mist. His steps looked casual, yet he precisely avoided every brittle twig and every fallen leaf that might make a sound, like a ghost drifting through the forest. He was a masterwork blade resting in a plain scabbard, its edge concealed until the instant it was drawn to drink blood and cut throats.
Shinji followed close behind, working to regulate his breathing as he imitated the figure ahead. The ties of his Konoha Forehead Protector were fastened with meticulous care. His brand-new dark blue combat uniform soon clung to him in the damp air, outlining his slender