"Who are you people?!"
Furious, Shimura Ryōma demanded an answer from the two attackers surrounding him.
What was supposed to be an incredibly simple mission had taken a deadly turn — they had been ambushed midway.
Shock and rage surged through him.
Swish, swish—
The two assailants said nothing. Silent and ruthless, they lunged at Ryōma from both sides, kunai in hand.
A killing intent as sharp as icy wind surged through the air. The surrounding temperature seemed to plummet.
"Wind Style: Vacuum Bullets!"
Ryōma's face darkened as he felt the murderous aura.
Anyone who could emit such intense killing intent was clearly no ordinary shinobi.
Glaring at the oncoming foes, Ryōma quickly formed hand seals.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Multiple concentrated gusts burst from his mouth — chakra-infused air bullets, each as powerful as live ammunition, fired in rapid succession like a machine gun barrage.
"Earth Style: Earth Wall!"
One of the attackers responded swiftly, slamming a hand onto the ground mid-seal.
Boom—!
A thick wall of earth erupted from the ground, shielding against the storm of chakra blasts. The wall was pitted and cratered under the assault.
Using the wall as cover, the other assailant darted around from the side, silently maneuvering toward Ryōma.
Coming in from his flank, the kunai slashed mercilessly toward Ryōma's throat.
Clang!
Ryōma narrowly parried the incoming strike with his own kunai, avoiding a fatal blow.
But the danger wasn't over yet.
The one who had raised the earth wall now closed in from the front, aiming a fierce kick at Ryōma.
Faced with this two-pronged assault, Ryōma had no choice but to leap back in retreat.
Then—
The attacker whose kunai he had just blocked suddenly revealed a terrifying transformation — his eyes flared crimson, with three black tomoe spinning within.
"The Sharingan?!"
Ryōma's expression shifted to shock.
The Sharingan — unmistakable mark of the Uchiha clan.
They were being ambushed… by members of the Uchiha?!
Though the Shimura clan had a notoriously poor relationship with the Uchiha, Ryōma hadn't expected them to go so far as to launch an assassination.
Were they not afraid of the village finding out?
But now, he had clearly forgotten his own words spoken not long ago — "As long as we don't get caught, it's fine."
If the ambush were discovered, the Uchiha would be in serious trouble.
But only if they were discovered.
"Damn it!"
Though stunned, Ryōma was still a seasoned jōnin. He reacted immediately and correctly.
He quickly averted his gaze to avoid falling under the Sharingan's genjutsu.
He could not afford to be caught in an illusion now — that would be certain death.
Boom!
He successfully evaded the illusion, but failed to dodge the follow-up attack. The earth-style shinobi landed a brutal kick.
"Ugh—!"
Ryōma grunted as the kick launched him backward, slamming him into a thick tree trunk.
The tree shuddered violently, shedding leaves in a cascade. His chest throbbed with pain from the blow, and his back burned from the impact. His insides churned in agony.
Shing! Shing! Shing!
A barrage of shuriken whistled through the air toward him.
He dodged most, but one struck true, slicing into him.
Blood oozed from the fresh wound.
"Fire Style: Phoenix Fire Claw Crimson!"
Before he could catch his breath, one of the enemies completed a flurry of hand seals and spat out a massive fireball.
The flames split midair, clinging to dozens of shuriken, transforming them into fiery blossoms aimed from every direction.
"Wind Style: Vacuum Wave!"
Ryōma paled. These were no ordinary flames.
He hurriedly weaved signs and unleashed sharp wind blades from his mouth to intercept the oncoming fiery barrage.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Each flaming flower burst on impact — and just as Ryōma prepared to regroup—
The ground beneath his feet erupted.
A figure shot up from below — Sharingan spinning wildly.
Ryōma tried to sidestep, but the Uchiha's enhanced vision caught the motion instantly.
The kunai, aimed at his heart, suddenly slashed sideways.
Slash!
A deep gash split open from Ryōma's chest down to his abdomen.
Blood sprayed out in a crimson rain, painting the ground.
Shing! Shing! Shing!
Gritting his teeth through the pain, Ryōma hurled a fistful of shuriken at the attacker.
The Uchiha dodged, buying Ryōma a brief chance to retreat, clutching his wound and widening the gap between them.
"Aaaargh—!"
A scream suddenly pierced the chaos.
Ryōma turned sharply toward the sound — and his heart sank.
Shimura Ichirō, who had accompanied him, was impaled through the chest by a kunai.
Blood sprayed from the wound. Ichirō's eyes dimmed, life slipping away.
"Damn it..."
Ryōma's face was grim.
Ichirō… a genius of the Shimura clan. Maybe not destined to become clan head, but certainly a future elite jōnin and high-ranking officer.
And now… dead. On what should have been a routine mission.
Worse still, Ichirō's death meant two enemies were now free to turn their full attention on him.
His situation had just become even more dire.
"Ryōma-sama, run!!"
Just then, a thunderous voice rang out.
It was Shimura Sōsuke — heavily wounded, but still standing.
Faced with another incoming strike, he didn't dodge. Instead, his hands flew into motion, forming seals at lightning speed.
Slash!
A kunai sliced open Sōsuke's throat — but he completed the jutsu.
"Wind Style: Tempest!"
From Sōsuke's dying body exploded a wild cyclone, sweeping up dead leaves and dust.
In an instant, the battlefield was engulfed in a blinding storm — everyone's vision cut off.
"Don't worry... your sacrifice won't be in vain!"
Seizing the moment, Ryōma sprang into motion, dashing into the cover of chaos.
He had thought this day would be his end… but Sōsuke's sacrifice gave him a chance to live.
So the loyalty he'd cultivated wasn't for nothing — at the critical moment, it saved his life.
He had to escape. No matter what.
If he could make it out and report to the village, the Uchiha clan would be finished.
Their sacrifice would not be in vain. The Uchiha would pay with their lives.
He sprinted several hundred meters, but no pursuers came.
A spark of hope ignited in his heart — perhaps they'd chased the wrong direction.
He wasn't out of danger yet, but the odds of survival were increasing.
With his elite jōnin speed, if he could break their encirclement, catching him would be nearly impossible.
But then—his expression changed dramatically.
Right ahead of him stood a masked figure dressed in black — waiting silently, as if he had known Ryōma's path all along.
From this man radiated a terrifying killing intent, stronger than any of the ambushers he'd faced so far.
Whoosh—
Ryōma veered sharply, trying to escape sideways.
But cold sweat poured down his back.
With just a flicker of motion, the masked man reappeared in front of him — eyes spinning with the fully awakened Three-Tomoe Sharingan.
And then… it evolved.
The tomoe spun and reformed — fusing into a circular pattern of three curved blades, each segment containing a dark inner dot.
Mangekyō Sharingan.