[A/N: I was really exhausted yesterday, but after a fresh start, I'm back!]
Chapter 12: Phantom Hunt
The moment Kiyoshi activated the Smoke Tag, a dense, chakra-infused mist exploded across the battlefield, swallowing everything in thick, shifting darkness.
The enemy's reaction was immediate.
"Tch—!" One of the masked figures cursed as their chakra perception flickered—then vanished entirely. "I—I can't sense anything!"
That was the point.
Kiyoshi had expected this.
This wasn't just a smokescreen—it was a full sensory blackout. No Byakugan, no Sharingan, no scent tracking. Nothing.
But he also knew something else—
It would affect them too.
Which was why they had planned ahead.
A second before the smoke expanded, all four of them—Kiyoshi, Mikoto, Ryota, and Kenshiro—had already moved.
They had carefully positioned themselves at the outer edge of the battlefield, just beyond the mist's core.
And the moment Kiyoshi gave the signal—
They retreated.
Fast.
Like ghosts, they slipped backward, vanishing into the night, leaving the enemy to be swallowed by the mist.
Now, it was their turn to strike.
---
Kiyoshi crouched behind a fallen tree, heart pounding. From within the swirling mist, he could hear confused voices, hurried footsteps, and the faint scraping of kunai against bark.
"Damn it, where are they?"
"They were just here!"
"Spread out! Find them before the smoke clears!"
Kiyoshi smirked. Good luck with that.
Mikoto landed silently beside him, her eyes gleaming in the dark. Even her Sharingan was useless in this mist, but she didn't need it. She just had to find the right moment to land a critical strike.
She whispered, "They're disoriented. We have a window—let's use it."
Kiyoshi nodded. "Kenshiro-sensei and Ryota should be in position. Let's move."
They split up, each taking a different angle.
---
Inside the Mist
The enemy shinobi were on edge.
They couldn't see. They couldn't sense. Their formation had collapsed.
One of them tightened his grip on his kunai, straining to hear any sign of movement.
Nothing.
Then—
A flicker.
"There!"
He lunged—too slow.
A kunai slashed across his arm, and he barely twisted away in time to avoid a deeper wound.
"Tch—" He staggered back, but the moment he did—
Something crashed into his back.
Hard.
Ryota drove his knee into the man's spine, then followed up with a brutal elbow strike to the ribs.
The enemy gasped, stumbling forward—
Right into Mikoto's blade.
Her kunai sliced through fabric, carving a deep wound across his shoulder.
The shinobi howled in pain, twisting around to counter—
But Mikoto was already gone.
They weren't fighting head-on.
They were hunting.
One strike. One retreat. Again and again.
Cut them. Break them. Exhaust them.
Let the fear creep in.
Let them realize.
They were the ones being hunted now.
---
From the other side of the battlefield, Kiyoshi saw his opening.
One of the enemy shinobi had broken formation, stepping too far from his allies. He was trying to clear the smoke and regain his bearings.
Big mistake.
Kiyoshi surged forward.
His palm ignited—
"Fire Release: Flaming Palm Technique."
The shinobi barely turned in time to see the attack.
Too late.
Kiyoshi's flaming palm smashed into his ribs, sending cracks through his armor and flames licking at his cloak.
The man screamed, staggering backward—
But just as Kiyoshi moved in for the finishing blow, the shinobi did something unexpected.
Instead of retreating—he lunged forward.
His kunai slashed through the smoke—fast, precise—aimed straight for Kiyoshi's throat.
A trap.
The enemy had been waiting for this.
Kiyoshi barely twisted away, feeling the blade graze his cheek. The shinobi wasn't done—he pressed forward, launching a relentless flurry of attacks.
"He's fast—" Kiyoshi thought, blocking and dodging, but he could feel it. His movements were slowing. His chakra reserves were running low.
The enemy smirked. He had noticed.
"You're weakening." The realization flickered in the shinobi's eyes.
And in that moment—he went for the kill.
He surged forward, kunai raised high—aiming straight for Kiyoshi's heart.
A fatal mistake.
Kiyoshi had been waiting for this, too.
He didn't dodge.
Instead—he stepped in.
Faster than the enemy could react, Kiyoshi's hand ignited once more—hotter, fiercer than before—
"Fire Release: Flaming Palm!"
His burning palm slammed into the shinobi's exposed neck.
A scream tore through the night.
Flames erupted, searing through fabric and skin. The man crumpled to his knees, hands clawing at his scorched throat, eyes wide with agony.
Kiyoshi didn't hesitate.
In one swift motion, he drove his kunai straight into the enemy's chest—piercing his heart.
The shinobi choked on his last breath. Then—
Silence.
Kiyoshi exhaled, stepping back as the body slumped to the ground.
No time to rest. The fight wasn't over.
He turned his gaze back to the battlefield—where Mikoto and Ryota had just finished their own hunt.
One more enemy lay motionless at their feet, blood pooling beneath him.
Only two remained now.
And he moved.
---
The mist was starting to thin.
The remaining two enemy shinobi were panicking.
They had lost one of their own, and they still couldn't sense their attackers.
"W-We need to regroup—!"
"Where are they?! Show yourselves!"
Kiyoshi locked eyes with Mikoto.
They didn't need to say anything.
Mikoto flickered through the mist, fast and precise. Her kunai lashed out—cutting shallow wounds, keeping the enemy off balance.
Ryota struck from the opposite side, fists colliding with ribs and shoulders. The shinobi staggered, their coordination failing.
And Kiyoshi—
Made sure they wouldn't recover.
He moved between Mikoto and Ryota's attacks, striking in perfect sync—burning through their defenses, keeping them desperate, keeping them afraid.
One enemy tried to counterattack, lunging at Mikoto.
Kiyoshi was faster.
He caught the attacker's wrist, twisted sharply—crack.
A scream.
Before the shinobi could even react, Ryota slammed a brutal kick into his side, sending him crashing into a tree.
Mikoto didn't waste the opportunity.
She finished it.
Her kunai flashed—
And in the next instant, the shinobi collapsed.
This was over.
All that was left—
Was the finishing blow.
---
Final Attack
The moment the last wisps of smoke began to fade, Kenshiro moved first.
He blurred forward, engaging the strongest of the remaining enemies in a flurry of rapid strikes.
The masked leader countered—but he was slower now.
Weaker.
Every second in that mist had drained his stamina and his confidence.
He was breaking.
And Kenshiro sensed it.
"You're done."
With a brutal roundhouse kick, he sent the leader crashing into a tree.
For the first time that night—
The valley was silent.
The fight was over.