"Protect Lady Chiyo!!!"
The remaining Suna elites went completely berserk. They had watched their comrades fall like grass, puppets torn apart like toys. Their sanity shattered under despair, leaving only a primal instinct to protect their leader.
They abandoned defense and jutsu, lunging toward Ryo like moths to a flame. One spread his arms to grapple his sword arm. Another lowered his head to slam into his waist. All of them tried to buy even a moment with their lives.
Suicidal attacks. Desperate and tragic.
Ryo frowned. Not because of the threat, but because their interference was an annoyance.
He snapped his wrist.
The Kusanagi Sword rang out sharply.
Slashes lashed out around him at precise angles.
Shhk. Shhk. Shhk. Shhk. Shhk.
Blood bloomed like flowers.
Two Suna shinobi at the front dropped instantly, blood gushing from holes in their throats. The madness in their eyes turned to emptiness as they collapsed.
The one trying to grab his arms lost both limbs at the shoulder. Blood sprayed violently.
Another aiming for his waist had his skull pierced by invisible sword aura and dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
In seconds, the charging Suna elites were diced apart like meat under an unseen blade. Their broken corpses fell around him, dyeing the mud blood red.
"Lady Chiyo! Run!!" the last surviving Suna shinobi screamed, tears of blood in his eyes. Giving up the suicidal charge, he quickly formed seals.
"Earth Style: Moving Earth Core!"
Boom.
The earth between Ryo and Chiyo heaved upward. A thick wall of stone rose to block his pursuit. A final moment bought with a comrade's life.
Chiyo looked at her last loyal subordinate's fallen body, then at the paper-thin wall of earth. Despair and sorrow flickered in her eyes. She clenched her teeth and rapidly manipulated her chakra threads, calling the remaining Monkey and Spider puppets to her side.
"Go!" she growled hoarsely. Without hesitation, she turned and fled into the rain outside the camp, the two puppets guarding her flanks. There was no time to think about tactics or mission objectives. All she had left was the will to survive. Sasori was still waiting for her to return home.
Ryo swung his sword casually.
Slice.
The thick wall of earth was cut cleanly like tofu and collapsed with a loud crash.
His gaze passed through the falling debris, catching a glimpse of Chiyo's retreating figure and the battered puppets flanking her. His brows knit slightly.
"Hmph." A cold snort escaped him, tinged with reluctance. In the end, he didn't chase. Mikoto and Nawaki's condition couldn't wait.
His eyes scanned the surroundings. The camp was in ruins, the ground littered with bodies, both Suna and Konoha. Most of the weaker shinobi were still unconscious in the mud.
Finally, his eyes fell on the central command tent. Outside, Aburame Ryōma and the rest of the Root stood frozen like startled birds, protecting their leader, Danzō. He gripped the tent frame with one hand, his other covering the blood-soaked bandage over his right eye. The exposed left eye stared at Ryo like a venomous snake, filled with a storm of emotions—shock, fear, anger, and a burning greed.
Ryo ignored the unsettling gaze and walked straight toward Danzō.
His footsteps echoed clearly in the deathly still camp, each one pounding against Danzō's heart.
Stopping just a few steps away, Ryo swept his eyes over Danzō's disheveled state—bloody bandages, torn robes, pale skin—finally locking onto his venomous left eye.
"Send someone," he ordered flatly, voice devoid of emotion. "Immediately. The best medical-nin. Treat Mikoto and Nawaki." He tilted his head slightly toward the medical area, where Nawaki lay unconscious in the mud, his wounds swollen and blackened from poison.
Danzō's face twitched hard. A Konoha elder, the head of Root, being ordered around like this by a fifteen-year-old? Especially after being utterly suppressed by that terrifying display of power... it was humiliating.
That commanding tone was a direct blow to his authority. He had to respond.
He not only needed to shift blame for the failed defense, but more importantly, he had to test this fearsome boy's limits. If Ryo showed even a hint of hesitation, an excuse, or retreat, it would prove his mind could be manipulated. After that, Danzō would have countless ways to exert control—through duty, the Will of Fire, or even Mikoto and Nawaki's bonds.
The fury in his lone eye burned hotter than his fear. He looked up sharply, voice sharp with anger and calculation, piercing the silence of the camp.
"Kamiyama Ryo! Why didn't you pursue?! You let Chiyo, the mastermind behind this attack, escape before our very eyes! She is the Suna advisor, the root of this raid! Do you even understand what you've done?! How will you explain this?!"
His voice rang out with self-righteousness, trying to conceal panic and probe for obedience. He stared at Ryo, calculating, waiting for his reaction.
Ryo turned slowly to face him.
He said nothing. His icy silver eyes calmly met Danzō's spiteful, accusing gaze.
In that moment of eye contact.
A sudden, crushing pressure erupted. Conqueror's Haki exploded like a storm.
But this time, it was highly focused. And its target was Danzō.
"Ugh... ah!!!"
Danzō's body seized up. It was like an invisible hand grabbed his spine. His bones creaked under the pressure. Every trace of emotion in his lone eye—anger, pride, calculation—was instantly drowned by an overwhelming, pure terror. It felt like a beast from the abyss had locked eyes with him. Thousands of needles pierced his brain. His very soul trembled under the weight of this willpower, almost shattering.
Thud.
He couldn't stand anymore. His knees smashed into the muddy ground. Water splashed.
Both hands hit the ground. His forehead pressed into the filth. His whole body shook violently. His remaining eye lost focus, filled with nothing but primal fear. His mouth opened and closed, trying to speak, but no sound came out.
The dignity of a Konoha elder? His ambition to become Hokage? His carefully planned test?
All crushed.
He wasn't even qualified to meet the boy's eyes.
The pressure came suddenly and left just as fast.
Ryo didn't spare him another glance, brushing him aside like a fly. He turned and headed toward the camp's cleaner, intact tent where Mikoto and Nawaki were being treated, the reserve medical area.
Only after Ryo disappeared behind the curtain did the crushing force vanish.
"Huff... huff... huff..." Danzō gasped for air like a drowning man, lifting his head and inhaling greedily. His body was soaked, caked in mud, sweat and rain mixing on his face. He raised his head weakly and saw Shikakaku and the others looking at him with complicated expressions. The sting of humiliation and the failure of his plan burned through him. He wished he could disappear.
He struggled to stand, but his legs were still weak.
He had to recover control. Even if the test failed, he couldn't lose his grip entirely.
"Kh..." Danzō swallowed the blood rising in his throat and forced his voice to sound "calm and steady," though it was hoarse and trembling.
Danzō pointed to the unconscious shinobi on the ground. "Wake every Konoha shinobi knocked out. Count heads. Secure all Suna prisoners, dead or alive. Triage the wounded. Prioritize the severely injured. Also..." he paused for breath, his lone eye sweeping the damaged battlefield and broken tents, "...reinforce the defenses. Clean up the battlefield. Assess resource loss. Go! Execute immediately!"
He rattled off commands quickly, trying to reclaim his authority.
But his trembling fingers and pale face betrayed his shaken state. That damned Kamiyama Ryo...
Without saying more, the shinobi responded together, "Yes, Danzō-sama," then turned to rally the mobile Jōnin and Chūnin. The camp echoed with calls and orders as the damaged Konoha camp began its slow recovery.
Danzō leaned on the tent frame, eyes still fixed on the tent Ryo entered. The curtain had fallen. Deep within his lone eye, fear still lingered.
Inside the tent.
The lighting was dim. The air smelled of antiseptic and faint blood. Two clean stretchers were laid out with dry blankets. Mikoto lay on one. Nawaki lay on the other.
Mikoto's face was pale as paper. Her breathing was shallow and quick. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her brows were tightly furrowed. The purple-black wound was even more vivid in the dim light. The medical-nin were working anxiously.
Nawaki looked even worse.
Although his wounds had been treated and he had been placed on a stretcher, the muscles around his injury were a disturbing bluish-black and swelling rapidly. The poison was spreading. Even in his unconscious state, his body twitched from the pain.
The medic examining him was frowning deeply, forehead drenched in sweat. He exchanged a grave look with the one working on Mikoto, then whispered quickly, "...it's Chiyo's special poison... too aggressive. Nawaki's been poisoned too deeply. It's already infiltrated his chakra network. Normal antidotes are nearly useless..."
"No one here has the skill to remove it... if we try, we might just speed up the spread of the poison."
"We can only stabilize him for now... we must wait for Tsunade-sama's return!"
Ryo stood beside Mikoto, watching the medical-nin work. His fists clenched slightly at his sides.
The noise outside—Danzō's yelling, shinobi moving, the groans of the wounded—meant nothing to him. His eyes never left Mikoto.
Time passed. The medic's forehead was soaked with sweat, but his movements grew more precise. The dark purple around Mikoto's wound began to fade under the detoxification jutsu, a hint of healthy blood returning. The wound was deep enough to expose bone, but the bleeding had stopped.
"Sir," the medic using healing chakra let out a breath of relief and cautiously reported, "the worst of the poison has been neutralized. The bleeding has stopped. We'll clean and stitch the wound next. Her life is no longer in danger."
He glanced at the other medic working on Nawaki, who hesitated before adding, "As for Nawaki-sama... Chiyo's poison is extremely problematic. We can only slow its spread. The necrotic tissue inside him requires extremely precise chakra scalpels to remove, and we'll need a much stronger antidote. We... can't handle it. Tsunade-sama must be summoned as soon as possible. If we delay too long..." He didn't finish, but the heavy tone in his voice said enough.
The curtain lifted slightly.
"R-Ryo-sama…" Shikashin's voice called from outside, respectful and cautious. "Danzō-sama wishes to discuss—"
Ryo's hand paused. His gaze never left Mikoto's face.
A cold voice interrupted from within the tent.
"Shut up."
"Let him wait."
(To be continued.)