Night came quickly. The moon had already climbed high into the branches, casting pale light across the forest. Izumi rested casually against a tree trunk, showing no intention of moving. Even Gin, leaning nearby, tilted his head slightly in puzzlement. Wasn't this the perfect time to strike? Why was the boy still resting?
"Lord Third may not have given you a time limit," Gin said evenly, "but if you keep stalling like this, I'll count your mission as a failure."
"Relax," Izumi replied. "We'll be back tomorrow. Sure, nighttime is the best time for a raid—but they'll be expecting that. The real sweet spot is the latter half of the night. If it were around four or five in the morning, that'd be ideal… though we might run out of time if we wait that long."
Seeing that Izumi already had a plan, Gin said no more, simply folding his arms and watching.
Time crawled by until the middle of the night. Izumi's eyes opened. Without a word, he dashed toward the mountain stronghold. Gin's figure blurred and vanished into the darkness as well. His role was to evaluate Izumi's performance—and, per the Hokage's instructions, he would not interfere unless Izumi's life was in immediate danger.
The black ANBU gear blended seamlessly with the shadows, making the night itself his ally. Izumi crept up to the front gate. Two guards stood there, both slouched and inattentive. One was even asleep on his feet.
A flick of the wrist—Izumi sent a shuriken flying. At the same instant, he surged forward like an arrow loosed from the string.
Small in stature, Izumi barely drew the eye, and the guards were far from alert. The first man never even reacted before the steel buried itself in his chest.
The thud of a body hitting the ground snapped the other guard out of his stupor. He froze for half a heartbeat, eyes going wide, then opened his mouth. "We've—"
That was all he managed. The word died in his throat—along with his breath—as Izumi's kunai pierced clean through his neck.
Once both were down, Izumi quickly dragged them into position so that, from a distance, they appeared to be dozing at their posts. Then he slipped quietly through the gate and into the compound.
Before long, he reached a small building. Peering through a crack in the window, his stomach turned and his hands clenched.
It was a kitchen—if one could call it that. The "ingredients" inside were human. Limbs, torsos, and headless corpses lay scattered, some stripped of their bones and tossed onto bloodstained counters.
Izumi's gut churned violently. He'd known bandits could be vicious, but this… this was monstrous. These weren't just thieves—they were cannibals.
Rage flared hot in his chest. Every last one of them would die tonight.
Moving on, he crept toward another building. From inside came the muffled sound of sobbing. Carefully, he eased the window open just a crack—and saw a room full of women, half-naked and trembling.
It didn't take much to piece it together. The men of the raided villages had been butchered for meat. The women were dragged back here as playthings.
Izumi made a quick hand signal. Gin appeared silently out of the darkness, as if he'd always been there.
"Senior Gin, please… make sure these people get out safely," Izumi said.
Gin didn't answer immediately. He glanced through the gap, took in the scene, then gave a single, firm nod.
With that reassurance, Izumi turned and began moving toward the center of the bandit camp.