The mission was supposed to be simple.
A routine perimeter sweep along the southern border, low-risk, D-rank fluff meant for newly minted genin. Find a few missing scrolls, check in with the patrol outpost, and come back before nightfall.
But simplicity, like peace, was a temporary lie in the shinobi world.
Team 11 was two hours into the forest when the sky began to darken too early.
**
"Think it's gonna rain?" Noboru asked, squinting up at the gathering clouds. His ninken, Roku, sniffed the air, growling low in his throat as the scent of earth and ozone mixed in the heavy atmosphere.
Asenari glanced upward, her sharp eyes taking in the sky's shifting hue. "Pressure's dropping. Fast."
Akira, walking slightly ahead, said nothing, but his fingers subtly flexed at his sides, chakra brushing against his skin like static, prickling the air around him.
Something was wrong.
Sensei hadn't come. Again. Left them alone with a half-scrawled map and instructions that read more like a dare than a mission brief.
Akira didn't mind. He trusted Asenari. Noboru too, though the Inuzuka boy sometimes acted more like a reckless big brother than a teammate.
They moved in their usual formation, the dense forest underbrush crunching beneath their feet. The sound of birds and insects was replaced by the occasional rustle of branches. The path narrowed. Grass gave way to hard stone, then to wet moss and roots. Roku's low growl broke the silence as the dog sniffed the air once more.
And that's when they heard the scream.
**
It came from downwind—sharp, wet, human.
Asenari didn't hesitate. "Northwest. Someone's injured."
Akira didn't need further confirmation. His body was already moving, every muscle honed for action. Noboru was right behind him, casting a quick glance at Roku, who was already darting off into the underbrush with a sharp bark.
They followed in pursuit, Akira's feet barely touching the ground, moving with a swiftness that blended with the shadows. Within moments, they reached the source of the scream.
A chunin. His uniform torn to shreds, blood pooling fast around his side where a deep puncture wound marred his torso. His breathing was shallow, gasping.
Asenari was the first to kneel, fingers glowing green as she assessed the injury. "He's still alive—puncture wound, probably poisoned."
"Ambush?" Noboru asked, scanning the treeline, his hand ready at his kunai pouch.
"No," Akira muttered, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the scene. "Bait."
The kunai came next—three of them, flying from the shadows in quick succession.
Akira moved instinctively, deflecting two with swift flicks of his wrist. The third grazed his shoulder, just a shallow cut, but enough to draw blood.
"Noboru," Akira hissed through gritted teeth.
The Inuzuka boy was already on the move, leaping into the dense underbrush with Roku at his heels, the dog barking loudly as they closed in on the source of the attack.
Then, chaos.
Figures emerged from the treeline, not trained shinobi, but bandits—disorganized, desperate. Stolen weapons in hand, they lunged at Akira and Asenari. No sense of strategy, just pure instinct. They were more dangerous because they fought without fear of consequences.
Akira moved like a ghost, his strikes precise, his body a blur of motion. His chakra surged as he connected with each bandit, but it was different this time. It felt wilder, like a storm just beneath his skin, the power flowing uncontrolled with every hit. Each strike felt as if it was coming from somewhere deeper within.
His last target—a lanky bandit—dropped like a sack of potatoes with a crack of lightning Akira hadn't consciously summoned. His hand trembled, and the air around him shimmered, a faint heat radiating from his body.
Noboru returned moments later, bloodied but grinning, a savage gleam in his eyes. "They won't try again."
Asenari didn't look up from her task, her chakra flaring brighter as she stabilized the wounded chunin. "He's stable now. Barely."
"Then we carry him." Akira bent down to help the chunin, but as his fingers brushed the man's vest, a strange pulse ran through his fingertips.
The world shifted.
Just for a second.
Like something distant had tugged at the edge of his mind, a static ripple, a whisper beneath thought. His heart skipped, and for a moment, everything seemed still.
He froze.
**
Later, after the mission had been completed, the bandits tied up, and the wounded chunin handed off to the backup patrol, Team 11 sat beneath the edge of the ridge, watching the sky in silence.
It hadn't rained.
But something had changed.
Akira spoke before he could stop himself. "The air changed."
Asenari's gaze flickered to him, her expression unreadable. Noboru, looking up at the sky, tilted his head. "You mean like, chakra pressure?"
Akira shook his head slowly, his mind racing as he tried to process what he'd felt. "No. Bigger. Like… the world held its breath."
None of them spoke after that, the unease settling like a weight among them, until Noboru, as if trying to break the silence, suddenly said, "You remember that day at the academy? When I punched that Hyuuga kid in the face?"
Asenari blinked in confusion. "Which one?"
"The one who called Akira a mutt."
Akira's eyes shifted sideways. "You didn't even know me."
"Didn't have to." Noboru scratched Roku's ears, the dog wagging its tail happily. "You two were always off in your own quiet bubble. Didn't talk to anyone. Figured someone had to bark louder."
"You barked and bit," Asenari added dryly.
"Damn right I did." Noboru smirked, glancing at Akira. "Still does the trick sometimes."
Akira didn't smile, but his eyes lingered on the Inuzuka boy, a flicker of something behind his gaze.
That moment—years ago—came back all too clearly.
A small fight behind the training hall. Akira had stood still while the other boy mocked his name, his clan, his silence. And then Noboru had come in swinging. No questions asked. Took a black eye for his trouble.
Later, when the teachers punished him, Noboru had simply said, "Felt like the right thing."
They never talked about it. Until now.
**
The sun dipped lower, casting golden light across the horizon, painting the clouds in hues of pink and orange.
Akira felt the heat in his palm again—the lingering echo of that moment in the forest. It burned faintly, like a memory that wouldn't fade. His fingers clenched involuntarily.
Asenari noticed. "You felt something."
Akira didn't deny it. "Something's coming."
"Not from here?" she asked, her voice low.
"No," he said quietly. "Outside."
The air seemed to thicken with the weight of unspoken words. A pause passed between them, before Noboru stood and stretched, his confidence unshaken.
"Well, if it's trouble, we'll deal with it. Like always."
Akira looked at him, considering the words. "You sound confident."
"I've got Roku, I've got you two, and I've got a mean right hook." Noboru grinned, his eyes gleaming.
Asenari smiled faintly. "And the world will still be here when we're done."
They started walking back, their footsteps light against the forest floor—three shadows stretching long behind them as they made their way toward the village.
And far above, in a sky too still to be natural, a single flicker of distorted light blinked out near the stars.
No one noticed.
Not yet.
---