Chapter 9 – Escape Through the Fog
In the chaos, even though Nawaki was panicking, he instinctively clung tightly to Minamoto Ren's arm.
That small action made Mizudori Gō frown in frustration.
He had his own agenda.
He only wanted to save Nawaki.
As for that Hyūga brat and Minamoto Ren?
Frankly, he'd rather they died on the battlefield.
That way, his son…
No. He no longer had a son.
Mizudori's expression suddenly turned grim.
Without a word, he hoisted Nawaki and Hyūga Haining onto his back and charged toward the perimeter.
Ren thought for sure the man would leave him behind—but to his surprise, Mizudori signaled for him to follow.
It was unexpected… and suspicious.
The four of them pushed through the chaos in an awkward formation.
Along the way, several Konoha shinobi recognized Nawaki and rushed to assist, throwing themselves into the fight to buy them time to escape.
It almost seemed like they'd made it.
The Rain-nin who led the attack were elite, but they lacked sufficient numbers.
As long as they broke through the encirclement and reached the Land of Fire's borders, the four of them would be safe.
"Ah!"
A sudden scream snapped Ren's head around.
One of the Konoha shinobi who had been shielding their retreat…
He had just been run through the chest by a single blade.
The attacker wore a crying mask—a Rain-nin.
As he withdrew the blade, blood sprayed across his arm.
He tilted his head slightly and locked eyes with Ren.
This man was Yoru Kurayami.
He had been watching them for some time.
The group screamed "high-value targets" from a mile away—especially the shinobi carrying children on his back.
A jōnin, surely.
And the kids… clearly the offspring of Konoha's upper ranks.
Behind his mask, Yoru's lips curled into something between a smile and a sob.
For this war, he had lost everything—his sister, his parents, his entire family.
Now, finally, the ones who started this war… would get a taste of that pain.
"Water Style – Hidden Mist Technique!"
Yoru stood firm, blade ready as thick fog began to envelop the battlefield.
A dense, unnatural mist blanketed the area in seconds.
---
Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger!
Ren's pupils contracted.
The Konoha ninja who'd just died was a chūnin—and he hadn't even had time to react.
That kind of disparity could only mean one thing:
Their attacker was a jōnin from the Hidden Rain.
The difference between jōnin, chūnin, and genin wasn't just skill—it was a complete change in class and power.
Each jōnin was a strategic asset, irreplaceable and deeply trusted, often granted political influence within their village.
They were not soldiers.
They were weapons.
Mizudori, who had been sprinting ahead, suddenly stopped cold.
He couldn't run anymore.
The moment his enemy used the Hidden Mist Technique, Mizudori knew he was up against someone of equal rank—another jōnin.
Trying to flee with children in hand would only get them all killed.
---
"Ren! Ren—!"
Nawaki landed hard on his feet and immediately shouted out into the fog.
They had been separated by a few meters, but now the thick mist made it impossible to see anything.
"Shut up!" Mizudori hissed, his tone turning vicious.
The mask of stoicism cracked, revealing the bitterness underneath.
He wanted the Rain-nin to kill Ren.
That was the whole point of bringing him along.
Now that the fog had fallen, it was the perfect chance to get rid of him.
He wanted Minamoto Ren dead—to pay for the life of his son, who had died on Mount Yūryō!
It was Ren who had taken his son's place on that mission.
And because of that, Mizudori was left childless in his old age.
---
On the other side of the mist, Ren could hear Nawaki calling for him, but he didn't dare respond—didn't dare move.
He could feel it.
Someone was watching him.
If he so much as twitched, he'd be dead in the next heartbeat.
"So difficult… So damn difficult…"
Just out of the wolves' den, and now right into the tiger's jaws.
Yet in the face of near-certain death, Ren's expression grew calm.
His delicate, refined face became as still as water.
He had already died once before.
What was there left to fear?
---
Within the mist, Yoru Kurayami flexed his fingers, eyeing both sides of the battlefield.
On one side: a low-value Konoha genin.
On the other: a jōnin carrying two golden little heirs.
Crack—
His knuckles popped. A cruel smile spread across his masked face.
"He's coming!"
Hyūga Haining's Byakugan flared to life.
He could see Yoru through the mist—but not track him.
Too fast.
Yoru shot forward, hands weaving signs so fast they blurred.
Water Style – Water Drill Cannon!
A compressed stream of water, as precise as a bullet, tore through the thick fog from an unexpected angle—aimed with surgical precision.
For a brief second, the blast exposed a flicker of Rain Village robes.
A B-rank jutsu—just a warm-up.
Yoru's eyes narrowed.
He wanted to gauge this Konoha jōnin's skill.
After all, not all jōnin were equal—some were White Fang, others were just Asuma Sarutobi.
---
Mizudori had already prepared his response.
With a final hand sign, he slammed his palm into the ground.
Earth Style – Earth Wall!
A stone barrier surged upward, intercepting the water drill mid-air and absorbing the impact with a harsh crash.
Yoru muttered, "Earth Style, huh," and immediately began weaving new hand seals.
Dragon → Ox → Rabbit.
Water Style – Wild Water Wave!
A high-pressure blade of water arced forward like a sawblade, slicing the earth wall clean in half.
"Get down!"
Mizudori shoved the two stunned children's heads down just in time to avoid being shredded.
---
"Damn this Hidden Mist Jutsu... if only I had the Byakugan!"
Mizudori's face twisted in frustration.
Fighting a fellow jōnin, while also protecting two children, and in a terrain filled with water, was nearly unwinnable.
The rain was falling harder now.
The probing exchange was over.
Each side had a rough measure of the other.
---
"So these two kids… must be very important," Yoru sneered.
"A Water Style specialist from the Rain? What a pain in the ass," Mizudori muttered, slowly rising to his feet.
"Hyūga Haining, keep your eyes wide! Report his position the second he moves!"
As he shouted, Mizudori began forming complex hand signs.
But multitasking like this—fighting, protecting, and forming jutsu—was a fatal flaw in high-level combat.
---
Suddenly, a tall, thin figure lunged from the mist.
In the blink of an eye, a ninjatō flashed through the air—a heavy, crushing blow aimed directly at Mizudori's upper body.
Too fast!
"Uncle Mizudori!"
Nawaki screamed.
In the downpour, a severed arm spiraled into the air, trailing arcs of red as it splashed to the muddy ground below.
---
Hyūga Haining's face went pale.
If their lead jōnin had fallen, what chance did they have?
Mizudori looked like a corpse—ashen and frozen.
The intel was wrong.
This Rain-nin wasn't just a water-style user.
He was an elite specialist in kenjutsu, assassination, and advanced Water Release.
---
There was only one thing Mizudori could be thankful for:
His jutsu was ready.
Secret Art – Triple Rashōmon!
The earth trembled as the massive demonic gates erupted from the ground, each with the snarling face of a yokai.
The gates slammed down between the two parties, severing contact and halting the onslaught.
Mizudori gritted his teeth against the agony, forced himself to remain conscious, and—
knocked Nawaki unconscious with a precise blow.
threw a kunai into Haining's thigh, disabling him.
And then—he ran.
---
He abandoned them.
He broke the shinobi code, discarded the Will of Fire, and betrayed his comrades.
All for the chance to survive.
---
By the time Hyūga Haining registered what had happened, the kunai was already buried deep in his thigh.
The pain didn't even register until it was too late.
This… this is what a jōnin-level battle looks like.
Before a genin could even react, the fight was over.
The whole exchange had lasted two minutes.
And Yoru Kurayami had emerged completely unscathed.
---
"What a liar. That Konoha mutt only had chakra for one Rashōmon gate."
The mist began to dissipate.
Yoru stopped feeding chakra into the Hidden Mist Technique.
As far as he was concerned, the battle was over.
"How pathetic. Judging by those eyes… you're a Hyūga, aren't you?"
"Betrayed by your own comrades.
How's that feel?"
His masked gaze was taunting, almost gleeful.
He slammed his ninjatō into the soft earth right before Haining—its blade still slick with Mizudori's blood, droplets falling one by one into the wet ground of the Rain Country.