Raizen and Madara stood over the fallen ninja, the jungle around them eerily quiet. The man had been a force of nature—a true Jōnin-level threat—but arrogance had been his undoing. Even the strongest pride can be a fatal mistake.
"Madara!" Raizen landed with a soft thud, kneeling to confirm the enemy's death before glancing up at him.
Madara froze at his voice, and then a reluctant laugh broke the tension.
"Just… thank you for giving up and letting me take him down," Raizen said, smirking.
"Huh! You think I was saving you? I just wanted one more body to resist that brute," Madara snapped back, a disdainful curl to his lips.
Raizen chuckled, amusement flickering in his tired eyes. "Is that how you treat a savior?"
Madara's glare was sharp enough to cut steel, but Raizen only laughed harder. Something approving glinted in his eyes despite the anger.
"Alright, what now?" Madara finally asked, lowering his guard just slightly.
"We move," Raizen said, shaking his head. "We find coalition ninjas. That's our only chance to catch a breather—or find some clay to make Flying Thunder God kunai."
Without another word, they plunged deeper into the jungle. The group had scattered, their temporary safety gone, and the forest around them became a tangled maze of shadows and danger.
Their luck—or misfortune—was tested again. They stumbled near the Hyuga coalition's patrol. This time, however, their instincts were sharp, and they avoided detection. Their original escape route had been blocked, forcing them to reroute, weaving through the undergrowth with care.
Night fell like a suffocating blanket, and the jungle transformed. Darkness pressed in from all sides, thick with the silent threat of predators—human and otherwise. Madara slid under a massive tree, feeling for movement, ears and eyes attuned to every shift.
Meanwhile, Raizen crouched in another corner, examining the clay he had salvaged from his ninja bag. The hour spent gathering and preparing had paid off. With careful hands, he shaped the remaining material into ten Flying Thunder God kunai, each a potential lifeline in the deadly forest.
He didn't rush. Darkness can be deceptive, and a calm forest often hides more death than a battlefield in the sun. "Keep moving," he whispered. Madara nodded, signaling that the perimeter was clear.
Raizen sculpted the clay into an owl, a small construct of wings and sharp talons, lifting them silently above the leaf litter. Flying above the jungle floor would be too visible in the moonlight; weaving through the trees was their safest option.
Perched on the owl, they became shadows themselves, silent and wary. Even the soft neigh of some distant animal sent chills up their spines. Every rustle, every whisper of wind demanded attention. The jungle was alive with unseen eyes, and one careless moment could be their last.
A sudden sound—a crack of a branch—snapped them fully alert. In the darkness, danger was never far away.