Gray rain poured endlessly, turning the Land of Rain into a swamp.
The Konoha Heavy Transport Unit No. 13 dragged forward through the mud like a dying beast, every step sinking deep. The mule's ribs stood out sharply, groaning as it struggled. The stench of decay filled every breath.
Crates wrapped in oilcloth were piled high on the wagon, the unit's only hope.
The march was silent. Faces numb.
At the front, Tanaka Nobu and Odagiri Toshiya moved like statues, exhaustion dulling their eyes. Four chūnin wiped cold rain from their faces, their fingers stiff as stone. Twelve genin followed behind, mud on their forehead protectors, uniforms soaked, hands shaking on their weapons.
Fear crept over them like invisible frost.
Clack.
Three figures in dark cloaks appeared through the rain, merging silently with the column. Water trickled down their forehead protectors.
"New arrivals?" Tanaka barely looked up, his rough finger almost touching Ryo's nose. "You and you," he pointed at Nawaki, "go behind the third wagon. And you," his tone sharpened as he eyed Nawaki's new blade, "fall back. Cause trouble and I'll flay your skin."
Odagiri's cold voice followed. "Trash sent to die. Don't expect to last long."
Nawaki's anger flared, face red, hand gripping his hilt. Mikoto caught his arm and whispered, "Let it go."
Ryo didn't react.
Their insults were meaningless, like buzzing insects.
He stepped into the mud pit Tanaka pointed out, the deepest and filthiest part. Mud rose to his calves, but he stood steady, rain sliding down his face.
Nawaki followed, his steps heavy, dragging through the muck. Frustration gnawed at him as he forced himself forward.
He looked at Ryo.
For an instant, a faint red light flickered in Ryo's eyes.
Hum.
His perception expanded. The direction of the rain, subtle tremors in the ground, the faintest heartbeats, every detail flooded into his mind. The world sharpened to deadly clarity.
Nawaki's heart seized. The forest was silent. Even the rain seemed to stop.
"Enemy."
His warning was swallowed by the roar of an explosion.
Boom.
Flames burst, mud erupted, and shockwaves ripped through the convoy. Wagons splintered, the mule was torn apart, blood mixing with rain and smoke.
"Scatter!" Odagiri's shout cut off mid-word.
Pff.
A dark blur swept across the ground. A curved blade flashed. A headless body flew into the air, blood painting the rain red.
"Kill them all! Take the supplies!"
A dozen Suna shinobi in dark cloaks leapt from the trees, blades gleaming. The ambush struck like lightning.
"Defend! Fight!" Tanaka roared, hurling kunai, but four elite Suna shinobi surrounded him. Blades clashed, sparks flared. The genin screamed, falling one after another into the mud.
"Damn it!" Nawaki's eyes burned. He drew his sword and lunged forward.
"Don't move."
Ryo's cold voice froze him.
Nawaki turned.
Ryo's eyes were dark and still, like a beast ready to strike.
Hum.
Ryo moved.
Speed beyond sight.
By the time the afterimages faded, he was already before the first Suna shinobi. His kunai flashed once.
A red dot appeared on the man's forehead.
Eight Suna elites surrounding them froze. Each bore the same mark on their brow or throat. None even had time to bleed.
Ryo stood back in place, calm, rain washing his blade clean.
Nawaki stared, speechless. Eight enemies gone in an instant. He hadn't even seen Ryo's hand move.
"Nawaki, right side!" Mikoto's voice broke the silence.
He turned just as the Suna captain, face painted in blue, lunged from where Odagiri's body lay. His poisoned blade sliced through the rain, aimed straight for Nawaki's heart. Too fast to block.
Nawaki froze.
Ryo moved again.
With one step, the air split. The Kusanagi sheath pierced the captain's throat, launching him backward.
Bang. Crack.
The body slammed into a tree, neck half-severed, blood and rain spilling together. The Kusanagi sheath quivered, humming faintly.
Ryo twisted his wrist. The blade slid back into place with a quiet click.
Tick. Tick.
Silence returned. Only the rain remained.
Nawaki trembled, his neck cold with the memory of death brushing past.
The remaining Suna shinobi froze in terror. Their comrades had fallen before they could react. Panic overtook them.
They screamed, threw smoke bombs, and fled into the forest, dropping weapons and armor.
The rain's rhythm returned, steady and heavy.
Mikoto clutched her chest, her heart pounding wildly.
The afterimage of Ryo's movement burned into her mind.
Tanaka stumbled back, bloodied kunai in hand, armor torn. His gaze swept over the corpses, the red marks on their brows, the captain pinned to the tree. His body shook.
That wasn't ninjutsu. It was pure speed and power, terrifyingly real.
He remembered how he had mocked Ryo earlier. His gut turned cold.
Nawaki forced himself to breathe. His anger and pride were gone, crushed by the difference between them.
He finally understood. Ryo's presence wasn't arrogance. It was the quiet confidence of a predator among prey.
The survivors gathered shakily, their eyes filled with fear and awe.
Those who had sneered before couldn't even look at him.
"Tanaka," someone whispered.
"Shut up. Stay back." Tanaka's voice trembled. Despite his wounds, his tone carried something close to reverence.
Ryo ignored them. His eyes swept across the battlefield, then toward the misty horizon.
He stepped forward, boots sinking into blood and mud.
"Let's go." His cold voice cut through the rain.
He walked past a corpse, crushing its empty stare beneath his heel.
Nawaki stumbled after him. Mikoto took a breath, forcing the chaos in her heart down, and followed.
Ryo walked through the rain, calm and unmoved. Blood mixed with water, washing into the ground.
Tanaka watched his back, the white cloak stained with blood, like a faint light in the storm.
(To be continued.)