Showing mercy to the common people but relentlessly slaughtering the samurai... it didn't sit right with Akira. Something about it gnawed at the edge of his intuition.
"Could I be wrong?" he murmured inwardly, his brows knitting together.
This pattern didn't align with the behavior of ordinary rogue ninjas. Their actions were too calculated, too deliberate. Looting villages with surgical precision while sparing civilians yet exterminating trained fighters—it was too methodical.
"Could this really be an advance team sent by the Land of Hot Water? An intelligence unit preparing for a full-scale invasion of the Land of Rice Fields?" Akira questioned himself silently, the doubts growing heavier.
They hadn't killed any innocents, which suggested this wasn't a campaign of senseless violence. And yet they plundered freely and boldly. Were they not worried about stirring up retaliation?
Too many things didn't add up.
Akira's gaze turned to Kosuke. The old veteran had weathered countless battles; his instincts were honed like a blade. Akira sought some hint of clarity in Kosuke's eyes, some confirmation or rejection of his suspicions.
But Kosuke simply frowned, a contemplative glint in his eyes. He slowly shook his head, silently telling Akira that he, too, was in the dark.
With no clear answer, the group pressed forward. Their next hope lay in the battlefield itself. Maybe the land would whisper its secrets.
Kimura, their guide, led them closer to the site of the deadly clash between his comrades and the unknown enemy ninjas. The terrain was quiet, almost mournfully so, the oppressive silence hanging heavy in the air.
Akira signaled for everyone to remain vigilant. If those mysterious ninja were still lurking, they'd have the element of surprise. But as they crept closer, Akira activated his sensory jutsu—there were no active chakra signatures nearby. The enemy had long since vanished.
The battlefield came into view.
A ring of collapsed earthen walls encircled the area—evidence of earth-style jutsu used to trap fleeing enemies. Kimura's words had not been exaggerations.
Crossing over the earthen mound, the sight awaiting them stole the breath from their lungs. Dozens of corpses, all clad in samurai armor, lay scattered like broken dolls. Not one ninja body among them.
The sheer brutality was overwhelming.
Kimura's breath quickened. His fists trembled. The sight of his fallen comrades—people he had laughed with, trained with, bled with—broke something inside him. He could hold back no longer.
"Chaiqi! Oda! No... DAMN THOSE NINJAS! I SWEAR I'LL TEAR THEM APART!"
He sprinted to the corpses, collapsing beside them, arms clutching lifeless bodies. Tears poured freely as he cried their names, shaking with grief and fury.
Akira and his team watched solemnly. Kosuke, hardened by years of war, simply sighed. Hongdou and Jifeng averted their gazes, eyes misty with quiet sorrow. But Akira didn't look away.
He knelt by the bodies, carefully inspecting each one.
Most showed signs of being killed by Lightning Release. Others bore evidence of Fire and Earth Release—charred flesh, jagged punctures. This wasn't the work of random bandits.
It was coordinated. Tactical. Efficient.
Akira's brows furrowed deeply.
According to Kimura, the enemy numbered around forty. Nearly half of these samurai had fallen to Lightning Release techniques. That implied a significant portion of the attackers specialized in Lightning Style.
"Too many," Akira muttered.
The Land of Hot Water did produce some Lightning Release users, but nowhere near enough to field twenty of them in one squad. Even if they pooled every high-level Lightning ninja from their ranks, it wouldn't add up.
No—this wasn't the Land of Hot Water.
"Hidden Cloud…" Akira whispered.
It was the only explanation. Only Kumogakure, the Hidden Cloud Village, boasted such a large concentration of elite Lightning-style shinobi. If these were Kumo ninjas, then their presence here suggested a far more serious threat.
But why? What interest did the Hidden Cloud have in the Land of Rice Fields? They were not political rivals, nor resource-rich enough to be a primary target.
Akira shook the thoughts from his mind.
"Speculation won't catch them," he reminded himself. "But interrogation might."
As Kimura's cries softened into quiet sobs, the samurai finally rose, his fists clenched with trembling rage.
"I will see them fall," he muttered. "Even if it costs me everything."
Akira gave him a quiet nod.
"They're not far," he said. "And we will find them."
Kosuke had already surveyed the area, returning with a grim report.
"They were cautious. No tracks. Nothing left behind. It rained recently—it's washed away what little might have remained."
Too late. If they had arrived sooner, perhaps. But now?
Akira only smiled faintly.
"Traces or not, there are other ways."
He formed a simple hand seal, channeling chakra through his entire body. A visible aura burst outward, dense and potent—so tangible even Kosuke felt it, despite not being a sensory ninja.
"Such chakra…" Kosuke whispered.
Akira's reserves had surpassed ten thousand—a level beyond Chadola, edging toward the fabled Chatunla class. Few in the world could match it.
He formed the Tiger seal. "Multiple Shadow Clone Technique."
A storm of smoke erupted around them. It blanketed the field like mist.
As the fog cleared, more than a thousand Akiras stood side by side, row after row, perfect copies of the original.
Kosuke stood slack-jawed, stunned into silence.
Hongdou and Jifeng gasped audibly, their mouths agape, eyes bulging in disbelief.
Even Kimura, unfamiliar with ninjutsu, was petrified. The sheer scale of it was beyond comprehension.
"One man... a thousand bodies..." he murmured. "This isn't human..."
Akira regarded his clones with satisfaction.
"Each one can use my sensory abilities. We'll cover every direction within fifty kilometers. They won't escape this net."
Kosuke tried to respond, but words failed him. His mouth moved, but no sound emerged.
Kimura looked at Akira as if he were a living god.
"If I had this kind of power... Chaiqi, Oda, the others... they would still be alive."
His fists clenched again, not from rage this time—but yearning.
From that moment on, the samurai who had once believed in steel and honor now gazed upon the world of chakra and jutsu with desperate hunger.
And Akira, standing amidst a legion of his own making, simply gave the command:
"Find them."
In a thousand synchronized movements, his clones vanished into the wilderness—silent shadows, chasing down the storm that had dared to cross the Land of Rice Fields.
Akira coughed lightly, finally jolting the stunned group around him back to reality. The clearing, which had been filled with the awe-inspiring spectacle of over a thousand shadow clones, now fell into stunned silence.
He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "What's wrong? Why are you all suddenly frozen?"
Anko's jaw nearly dropped to the forest floor. "You're asking what's wrong? Over a thousand shadow clones! Is that even humanly possible? Do you have some kind of secret technique for training chakra? Tell me now!" she exclaimed with theatrical exasperation.
Akira gave a modest chuckle. "There's no secret technique. The amount of chakra one has is mostly innate. I just happen to have more than most people. Of course, that alone isn't enough to create so many clones. I've also spent years training relentlessly, shedding sweat and blood to raise my control and reserves."
As he spoke, Akira gently tapped the center of his forehead, revealing a shimmering seal.
"This is the Yin Seal Technique—something passed down to me by my master, Tsunade-sama. It allows me to store chakra over time, accumulating it for moments like this. I only used a fraction of the chakra in the seal to create all those clones."
Anko and Hayate exchanged a look, a mixture of disbelief and dawning comprehension. The mention of Tsunade—one of the legendary Sannin—seemed to settle their doubts. After all, if it was a technique from someone of that caliber, anything seemed plausible.
Only Kosuke, the veteran shinobi, nodded with true understanding. "So that's it... He's using the Yin Seal technique passed down from Lady Mito herself. No wonder he has such monstrous chakra reserves even at this age."
Without wasting another moment, Akira issued commands. "Shadow clones, fan out in all directions. Center your search on this location. The main body will stay behind and conduct a thorough sweep for any details we might've missed."
As the clones dispersed like a wave of silent phantoms, Akira turned to Kimura, who stood beside him, gripping his katana so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
Akira caught his expression and offered a reassuring nod. "Don't worry. They won't escape. My clones will find them soon. And when they do—if you still want to take revenge for your fallen comrades—I'll make sure you have that chance."
Kimura's brows furrowed. His voice came low and hesitant. "Of course, I want to kill them with my own hands... but with my current condition? I'm nowhere near full strength. I barely survived our last encounter. How could I possibly match them?"
Akira reached into his pouch and retrieved two small pills, offering them with a calm but firm tone. "Take these. Soldier Pills. They're used by shinobi to quickly restore stamina. There are stimulants in them that'll temporarily boost your condition and push your body beyond its current limits."
Kimura took the pills, his hand trembling slightly. "You really think I can do it?"
Akira's eyes gleamed with conviction. "You've already escaped once from those enemies. That says a lot. Your swordsmanship has potential. Leave the ninjutsu to me. I'll cover you. All you have to do is believe in yourself."
Emotion welled up in Kimura's eyes, and for the first time since their encounter, hope returned to his voice. "Thank you... truly. Thank you, Akira-dono."
Seeing Kimura's spirit restored, Akira felt a surge of warmth. Another good deed done. The legend of Akira—the benevolent whirlwind of the ninja world—will shine even here, in the humble Land of Rice Fields.
Meanwhile, several dozen kilometers away, within the dense, shadowed forest, a group of men camped quietly beneath a makeshift canopy.
Their clothes were mismatched, like those of common bandits, but their stances, their silence, and the way they moved betrayed their true nature. These were not ordinary criminals—this was a trained unit, ninjas masquerading as thieves.
In front of one of the tents, a dark-skinned youth named Damui yawned lazily. His senior, Arui, stood beside him, eyes ever-watchful.
"Don't doze off, Damui. Leaf ninjas might show up at any time. Stay alert."
"I am alert," Damui grumbled. "Even when I'm yawning, I'm scanning everything."
Arui shook his head. "The enemy might use genjutsu, or sneak through the perimeter with invisibility techniques. If you let your guard down, you'll be the first one down."
Damui sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's all Brook's fault. If he hadn't used ninjutsu and revealed our identities, we wouldn't be so tense."
"You can't pin everything on him," Arui responded. "That samurai was strong. Brook had to use ninjutsu or he might've died. It was our mistake for letting the samurai escape. We all bear that responsibility."
Before Damui could respond, a rustle from a nearby tree snapped everyone's attention. Weapons were drawn in an instant.
But it was only a flock of birds, startled into flight. The camp exhaled as one.
Damui scowled. "Damn birds..."
As tension eased once more, no one noticed the pair of crimson, three-tomoe eyes watching from the shadows.
A shadow clone of Akira stood silently among the foliage, concealed perfectly. He had heard everything. The names. The confession. The true identity of these bandits.
Kumogakure... Hidden Cloud Village, Akira processed through the clone. That explains their tactics. And their attempt to silence Kimura.
He didn't dwell further. The clone placed a Flying Thunder God seal on the tree and dispelled itself in a puff of smoke.
Back in the original location, Akira's eyes snapped open as the memories of his clone returned in a rush. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Found them. So quickly, too. The human wave tactic pays off again."
He turned to his team, who were already brimming with anticipation.
"They're from the Hidden Cloud. Looks like they've been stirring up trouble while hiding their identities. Prepare yourselves. We're going in."
Kosuke, Anko, Hayate, and Might Guy gathered around him. Their expressions hardened into resolve. Kimura stepped forward as well, clutching the pills Akira had given him.
"Put your hands on me," Akira instructed. "We're using Flying Thunder God to jump straight to their location."
They obeyed without hesitation, having experienced Akira's teleportation technique before. A moment later, with a sound like the crack of lightning, they vanished from the clearing.
When they reappeared, they stood amidst the trees where the clone had marked.
Ahead, unaware of the storm descending upon them, the Hidden Cloud shinobi remained oblivious.
The real battle was about to begin.