In the early morning, my personal ANBU unit and I departed from a small outpost hidden deep in the forest. The only thing still worth remembering from that place was the river—still calm, still pure, not yet tainted by the war. A quiet lie in the middle of chaos. But peace doesn't last forever. It never does. And it wasn't my fault. It just had to be this way. Victory always demands sacrifice.
We took what little we had, slung it over our shoulders, and vanished into the trees. High-speed movement was second nature to us—leaping from branch to branch, barely a whisper in the forest. In the blink of an eye, the outpost and river vanished behind us. The deeper we went, the denser the trees grew, filtering the morning sunlight into flickering shafts that danced on mossy trunks.
Fwhoosh. Fwssh.
Three cloaked shadows moved with unnatural speed through the canopy. Nothing slowed us down. The trees parted before our momentum. As we neared the territory controlled by Konoha ninja , territory that our great Iwa still hasn't taken control off—we didn't expect resistance yet. That was our mistake.
Fwish!
A kunai tore through the air, fast and precise, aimed straight at me.
Ting!
Reflex took over. I flicked my wrist, and my own kunai met the enemy's mid-air. Sparks danced. Steel screamed.
We halted instantly. All three of us dropped into formation—perched on separate branches, forming a triangle. A defensive stance. Standard ANBU procedure.
I scanned the forest. Dark, quiet. Nothing but the rustling of leaves.
"Someone strong," I muttered. That throw—it wasn't random. It was aimed directly at my right hand. That told me everything. Either this enemy was inexperienced... or he knew exactly what he was doing. He didn't aim to kill. He aimed to cripple. A surgical strike meant to soften me up for the real fight.
I chuckled quietly. "So... someone really thinks they can take on me and my personal ANBU?"
I tilted my head, amused. "Does Konoha still have the luxury to send out elite shinobi? Aren't they already bleeding against three other Hidden Villages?"
Pathetic.
"This won't save Konoha," I said under my breath. "Me? Losing? Not today. They think they've struck an ordinary Iwa patrol. Unlucky fools—they've just stepped on the wrong beast's paw."
My gaze sharpened. "They hide well. I'll give them that. But hiding... hiding won't save them."
I raised my voice slightly, not enough to reveal our position, but enough to let the forest hear me:
"So this is your move? A surprise strike and then silence? Is this the legendary Will of Fire? How disappointing."
Still no response.
They're cautious, I thought. Smart. But not smart enough.
Hidden deep in the shadows of the forest, high in the branches beyond sight, a group of elite Konoha shinobi observed the Iwa squad below. Leading them was none other than Minato Namikaze—the Yellow Flash.
"This is the second Iwa group we've run into," he whispered to his handpicked jonin squad. "The last one was just a scouting team. We dealt with them quickly. But this group… they're different."
He watched the three figures that had come to a halt. From afar, they looked like standard Iwa ANBU—masks, cloaks, coordinated movement. But the leader stood out. He wore no mask. No formal uniform. Just gray and brown armor with a heavy black cloak that obscured his face and shoulders.
Minato narrowed his eyes. "He's no ordinary ANBU."
"One of Iwa's elite?" whispered a jonin beside him.
"With the way he speaks... he's confident. Too confident," another added. "We should be careful."
"The two behind him—definitely skilled jonin," said a third. "Their chakra signatures are masked, better than most ANBU I've seen."
Minato gave a nod. "I'll handle the leader. The rest of you engage the two ANBU. Move only on my signal."
He closed his eyes briefly, breathing deeply. Then, his eyes snapped open—blue and bright and filled with certainty.
Back in the treetops, I could feel it.
"They've encircled us," I informed my ANBU in a low voice. "Stay sharp."
They were good—silent, disciplined—but still not on my level. If the enemy had chosen to fight us, it could only mean one thing: they didn't recognize who I was.
A smile tugged at my lips.
Even better.
If they wanted to die today, far be it from me to deny them that.
"Perhaps I won't have to march deep inside konoha controlled territory to kill one of their commanders," I muttered. "Maybe they've walked right into my grasp."
My hand drifted to the hilt of my weapon, but I didn't draw it. Not yet.
"No need to rush," I whispered to myself. "Let's keep my identity hidden a little longer. Let them believe they're the ones in control."
I chuckled—quiet, cold.
"Let's see how long they last before they break."
From above, a sudden gust stirred the leaves.
Shff.
A blur of yellow light cut through the forest like a lightning bolt.
Minato Namikaze appeared.
No sound. No warning. Just presence.
He stood a dozen meters away on a branch opposite mine, kunai in hand, eyes locked onto mine with surgical focus.
My ANBU moved, but I raised a hand.
"Don't," I commanded. "This one's mine."
Minato said nothing. Just watched.
Then, in a calm voice, he asked, "Who are you?"
I smiled beneath my cloak. "You tell me. You're the Yellow Flash, aren't you?"
He didn't blink. "I see. Then you know what's coming."
"Yes," I said, drawing my weapon. "Your death"