The world outside the shimmering, translucent orange barrier was a blur of indigo sky and churning, moon-silvered waves. Inside, however, was an eerie pocket of stillness and discomfort. Katsu's muttered words hung in the charged air, heavy with disbelief.
"How is that possible?" His voice was barely audible over the low, resonant hum of the chakra field surrounding them, a sound like a giant, vibrating crystal.
Sakurai Yuji, suspended beside him in the intricate lattice of Renjiro's Adamantine Attacking Chains, shifted slightly, the chains clinking softly. His face was grim.
"Possible? It is. That's the terrifying part." He glanced above their strange conveyance, where Renjiro sat cross-legged on the broad back of his summoned Eagle, Uno, seemingly deep in meditation.
"Monster doesn't even cover it, Katsu. Last time in Kiri… even if all seven of us had drawn blades against him at once?" He shook his head, "We wouldn't have won."
Katsu swallowed hard, the metallic taste of fear sharp on his tongue. He was a jonin by intellect and leadership, his strength lying in strategy, logistics, and precise coordination. He commanded respect through competence, not raw power.
The Swordsmen of the Mist? They were forces of nature, each blade a legend, their wielders possessing chakra reserves and combat prowess that dwarfed his own. To hear Yuji, wielder of the lightning-fast Kiba, speak of Renjiro with such… pity for their own collective weakness… it recalibrated Katsu's entire understanding of power.
The chasm wasn't just deep; it was an abyss he couldn't fathom. The casual display of sustaining this complex barrier-jutsu while simultaneously binding and transporting three people and a massive summon across miles of open sea was proof enough. Terror, cold and absolute, coiled in Katsu's gut.
"Focus." The sharp, no-nonsense voice of Honda Minako cut through the oppressive atmosphere. She hung slightly below them, her posture tense but controlled within her own set of chains, the scroll-like hilt of the explosive Shibuki sword prominent on her back.
Her sharp eyes were fixed not on Renjiro or her comrades, but ahead, through the slightly distorting orange haze of the barrier. "We're closing in."
Following her gaze, Katsu saw it. The dark silhouette of land resolving against the pre-dawn gloom. The distinct, fortified outline of Miyahira village – their target. Renjiro, true to his word after transporting the other strike teams to Umijiri and Shiranami via similar, stomach-churning methods, was delivering the final trio: Katsu (leadership/intel), Yuji (high-speed assault), and Minako (area denial/explosives). Renjiro himself would handle the high-value disruption and sensory suppression.
Minako shifted again, the chains clanking with the movement. "Seriously," she grumbled, "was riding the giant Eagle really worse than being packed like smoked fish in this… chakra net?" She gestured vaguely at the glowing chains and the encompassing barrier.
Yuji managed a weak snort. "Uncomfortable doesn't begin to cover it."
He squinted through the orange field. "But he said this muffles our signatures completely. Can't argue with the results, I suppose. Kumo's sensors would have lit up like festival lanterns if we'd approached conventionally."
Katsu, forcing his analytical mind back online despite the fear, nodded slowly. "Transporting multiple teams simultaneously across such distances, bypassing all coastal defences… It redefines infiltration. Logistically… it's revolutionary, if horrifying."
He looked at Renjiro's still form with a new kind of dread – the dread of witnessing something that shattered established military doctrine.
A few tense minutes later, Renjiro stirred. His eyes snapped open, not Shar. He gave Uno's massive shell a gentle pat. "Good work, almost there." His voice was calm, cutting through the barrier's hum. He looked down at his three passengers. "Prepare yourselves. Release in thirty seconds. Landing will be silent, but be ready for immediate action."
He stood smoothly on Uno's back, a picture of perfect balance. Then, with a gesture and a soft pulse of chakra, he dispelled the summoning. "POOF!"
A cloud of white smoke erupted, momentarily obscuring them, accompanied by the distinct scent of ozone and damp earth. Uno vanished instantly.
"Shink-shink-shink!"
The chains retracted, pulling Katsu, Yuji, and Minako upwards towards Renjiro just as the smoke cleared. The orange barrier dissolved like mist, leaving them suddenly exposed to the cool, salty pre-dawn air and the dizzying sensation of freefall. They were hundreds of feet up, plummeting towards the imposing stone walls of Miyahira.
But Renjiro was already moving. As they fell, he drew four kunai from his pouch. They weren't standard issue; each was etched with complex, spiralling seals that seemed to drink in the faint light. With a fluid, almost casual motion, he hurled them downwards. They flew silently, embedding themselves with soft thuds into the shadowed base of the wall, forming a rough square perimeter around a specific, seemingly unremarkable section.
Guided by instinct and training, the four shinobi angled their fall. Renjiro landed first, light as a feather, absorbing the impact with a slight bend of his knees. Katsu, Yuji, and Minako landed moments later in a practised roll, the hardened soles of their sandals making barely a whisper on the coarse stone.
Renjiro was already producing three small, square papers – intricate fuinjutsu seals pulsating with subtle light. He pressed one into each of their hands.
"Concealment seals," he murmured, his voice barely a breath. "Active them now. They'll mask your chakra signatures even better than the barrier. Stay low, stay quiet. I'll deal with the sensory team."
Before they could fully process the instruction, he was gone.
"Fwip."
Katsu activated his seal immediately, feeling a subtle, cool shiver run over his skin as his chakra signature dampened to near-invisibility. Yuji and Minako did the same, their eyes wide as they scanned the ramparts above. The wait began, every second stretching into eternity.
=====
Deep within Miyahira's central watchtower, the Sensory Division hub buzzed with the low murmur of focused chakra. Ten Kumo shinobi sat in meditative postures, their senses extended outwards like invisible nets, straining for any anomaly.
Senior Sensor Jiro frowned. A minute ago, a tiny, localised spike – brief, almost imperceptible – had registered near the western wall. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. Probably a nocturnal animal, but protocol demanded verification.
He stood and turned towards the door, then, without warning, a wave of profound, crushing fatigue slammed into him. It wasn't physical; it was a mental tsunami, dragging his consciousness into a dark, velvety pit. His eyes rolled back.
"Thud." He collapsed face-first onto the metal floor, unconscious.
"Jiro?!" Another sensor, Akari, snapped her head around. Her cry of alarm died in her throat as the same wave of unnatural, irresistible drowsiness crashed over her.
"Wha—?" She slumped sideways from her chair.
"Clatter."
Panic erupted.
"An Attack!" yelled a third sensor, Toma, surging to his feet. But the wave was already washing over the room. One by one, the sensors succumbed, collapsing where they sat or stood, victims of an unseen, overwhelming genjutsu broadcast not through eye contact, but through the very chakra field permeating the room.
Except one.
Kenzo, a junior sensor with an unusually resilient, almost chaotic chakra nature, felt the pressure. It was immense, a suffocating blanket trying to smother his mind.
He gasped, his vision swimming, his limbs heavy as lead. He fought it, a spark of raw panic fueling his resistance. He saw his comrades falling around him.
'Alarm bell!'
The thought screamed through his fading consciousness. The master alarm lever was just five meters away in the corridor.
Summoning every ounce of will, every scrap of his erratic chakra, Kenzo flickered. He vanished from his seat, reappearing halfway to the door, staggering, the genjutsu's weight still dragging at him. He lunged for the corridor, hand outstretched towards the gleaming brass lever of the village-wide alarm…
"Hmph."
The voice was cold, detached, right behind him. Kenzo's blood froze. He tried to turn, but a hand chopped down with surgical precision, striking the precise nerve cluster at the base of his neck.
"Chop!"
A bolt of paralyzing pain, then darkness. Kenzo crumpled silently to the floor.
Renjiro stood over the fallen sensor. He scanned the unconscious forms littering the sensory hub through the open door.
"Still needs some refinement," he muttered to himself, a hint of frustration in his tone. "The chakra field genjutsu is still inefficient against certain chakra dissonance patterns. Noted."
He moved swiftly, silently gathering the unconscious Kumo shinobi, dragging them into a storage closet off the main hub. He sealed the door with a quick, temporary barrier seal – a shimmering, opaque film of chakra that muffled sound and hid the occupants.
Alone now in the silent sensory hub, Renjiro walked over to the large viewing window. A wave of unexpected, complex nostalgia washed over him. This place. Miyahira. He placed a hand against the cool glass.
"Full circle," he murmured, his voice low, carrying the weight of two years. "Back to the village where the Third Shinobi War truly began." He remembered the crackle of his nascent Susanoo's ribs forming, the searing heat of Matatabi's flames, the desperate, furious face of two-tails Jinchuriki. That battle had been the spark that ignited the great war, and now, he was back.
=====
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