To prevent Anma from squirming, Yoru shifted his grip, pulling her from his back to cradle her against his chest. This should keep her still.
"Anma , you're so light. You really need to eat more."
She felt less like a person and more like a large, plush doll—soft and almost weightless. No wonder the Anma clan is declining. Even the strongest genjutsu can't compensate for such frail physiques.
Ninja strength relied on leveraging one's advantages, but having a weakness this crippling—worse than a genin's—was absurd.
"Eep!" Anma let out a muffled squeak, her face burning as she buried herself deeper into his chest, too flustered to move.
Yoru approved. Not only did this position stop her from disrupting his Shunshin coordination (and potentially slamming them into a tree), but her stillness also let him push his speed further.
Soon, they overtook the Suna smuggling squad. Instead of engaging, Yoru led the Wind and Thunder Gods in a wide arc, bypassing the enemy to set up an ambush at a river crossing ahead—a perfect choke point flanked by dense forest.
A simple but lethal trap was laid. Now, they waited.
The Suna team advanced cautiously, meandering until they were barely three kilometers from the ambush site.
Then—a glint of light.
From a towering tree behind them, a Konoha ninja (one of Yoru's shadow clones) "accidentally" reflected sunlight off a makeshift telescope lens.
The Suna jonin leading the escort froze, his gaze snapping toward the source. The clone feigned panic and fled.
"Lord Sabaku, let me exterminate this rat." The jonin—Kazekiri—knelt before the squad's commander, a tokubetsu jonin with a blade planted in the dirt.
"Fail, and don't bother returning. Your son Maki will learn what happens to weak links." The commander's threat was ice-cold.
"Understood." Tightening his grip on his sword, Kazekiri vanished in pursuit.
"Double time!" The commander barked. The squad surged forward, the puppet-user tokubetsu jonin scouting ahead while two chunin brought up the rear.
Eight Suna-nin raced toward Yoru's trap.
"Senpai... are you a jonin?" Anma stared in awe as Yoru summoned ten shadow clones. Her admiration swelled, eyes shimmering with something dangerously close to future baby-name planning.
"Mn." Yoru shrugged. If not for the clone luring the enemy and others stationed elsewhere, he could've made more. His training had paid off—each clone now packed 0.2 "Kakashi units" of chakra, rivaling average chunin.
The numbers:
Konoha's side: 1 elite tokubetsu jonin (Yoru), 2 berserker-tier taijutsu specialists (Wind/Thunder Gods), 10 chunin-level clones, plus Anma 's genjutsu support. Suna's remnants: 1 tokubetsu jonin, 1 paper-commander, 6 chunin.
"Two-to-one odds. Advantage: us." Yoru had never fought with such overwhelming force. A swift, brutal ambush was guaranteed.
"Anma , stay hidden. This clone will guard you. Follow its orders for genjutsu timing."
"Okay!" She ducked into cover, obedient as a field mouse.
Yoru assigned two clones to the Wind and Thunder Gods—both as shields and tactical guides.
The Suna squad entered the kill zone.
Instead of triggering explosive tags immediately, Yoru sprang shuriken traps first. Then—
*"Hiding in Mist Technique!"*
Ten clones and the original exhaled thick fog. Within breaths, the riverbank vanished into opaque haze.
"Ambush!"
The Suna-nin barely dodged the projectile barrage before the mist swallowed them whole.
*"Scatter this fog, Hayabusa!"* The puppet-user tokubetsu jonin snatched command.
The nominal leader glowered but held his tongue—though his eyes promised vengeance.
*"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"* A chunin named Hayabusa unleashed a gale, clearing a 30-meter path.
Useless.
The forest's density choked the wind's force. The mist would reclaim the area in seconds.
"Combination jutsu!**" Four more chunin formed seals—two preparing Sand Shuriken, the others another Great Breakthrough.
Their plan? A fusion technique to blast the mist apart.