Mokuton Phantom in Naruto

Ryuusei panted, feeling the weight on his chest. The attacks were slowing down.

With every step he took, he forced himself to keep going. The mist was still thick, but something inside him screamed that if he hesitated again, someone would die.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it…"

His eyes darted frantically, adrenaline coursing through his veins. When a shadow shifted in the mist, he instinctively raised his hands.

"KUJAKU MYŌHŌ!"

A pale, weak, but tangible barrier flickered to life in front of him.

The sharp clang of a kunai ricocheting off the barrier echoed.

"I…" He blinked.

He had managed to block it.

Beside him, Misaki was also pulling herself together. The shock in her eyes had vanished, replaced by focus. When an enemy tried to advance, she spun her kunai and hurled it without hesitation.

A wet thud. A low groan.

The body collapsed into the mist.

They were starting to fight back.

The attacks grew more sporadic… more hesitant.

And then, without warning,

The mist began to fade.

The wind blew through, dispersing the Kirigakure no Jutsu.

And the sun broke over the horizon, painting the sky in gold.

Ryuusei gasped for breath, his knees nearly giving out. Was it over? He wasn't physically exhausted, he was mentally drained.

Kousei's voice rang out:

"They ran!"

His father's words echoed down the road. Silence settled over the scene.

That's when Ryuusei turned around.

And saw the bodies.

At least four.

Nukenin from Kiri, or mercenaries.

Blood stained the dirt. Deep wounds, clean cuts. The faces of the dead were twisted in agony.

Ryuusei felt his stomach clench. The metallic scent of blood invaded his nostrils.

His body trembled.

"Don't puke, don't puke, don't puke…" He bit his lip until he tasted blood.

But his eyes couldn't look away.

The enemies who had been trying to kill them moments ago now lay sprawled out like broken dolls.

And deep down, a chilling truth took shape in his mind:

If it hadn't been them, it would've been him and Misaki on the ground.

"Every moment you relax is a moment when you or a comrade dies."

Kousei's voice cut through the air.

He didn't look at them. He just spoke the truth.

"We'll reach Amegakure in less than two hours. If no one's injured, we move forward."

He turned and began walking.

The merchants followed in utter silence, their faces pale with fear.

Misaki lowered her gaze. She said nothing.

Ryuusei clenched his fists. This wasn't training.

This was real.

And now he understood what his father had always known.

Without another word, they kept moving.

A fine drizzle fell over Amegakure as the caravan passed through its rusted gates.

Not a single cart was damaged. No one was injured. No one had died.

Ryuusei took a deep breath, relieved.

They had completed the mission.

Amegakure was a suffocating place. Narrow streets, gray, twisted buildings that looked more like prisons than homes. Metal pipes crisscrossed everywhere, hissing steam and making the air feel thick. And above all else, the rain never stopped.

Ryuusei glanced up at the overcast sky. This village feels… sad.

Kousei led them straight to a discreet inn, renting two rooms, one for Misaki, the other for him and Ryuusei.

"Rest. We'll stay here for two days before heading back."

No explanation. No conversation. Just orders.

Ryuusei and Misaki were too tired to ask anything. They barely exchanged words before collapsing into sleep.

The scent of hot tea filled the small inn room. The storm outside lashed against the windows, but inside, all was quiet.

Kousei stood with his arms crossed, watching Ryuusei and Misaki seated on the tatami floor. His posture was rigid, but his tone wasn't scolding.

"Let's talk about the mission."

Ryuusei felt a weight in his chest. He already knew he'd failed.

"First mistake," Kousei began, "lack of strategy."

Ryuusei swallowed hard.

"You panicked the moment the attacks started. You acted individually, without coordinating. If you'd used your heads, you could've turned the tide in minutes."

The young man clenched his fists. He knew it was true.

"Second mistake," Kousei continued, "you let fear take over."

Misaki looked away.

"Your enemies weren't strong. Some were rogue genin from Kirigakure. The rest? Undisciplined mercenaries. None of them had proper training for team combat. What they had was one advantage, the mist and your psychological weakness."

Neither of them spoke.

"If you'd taken a breath, assessed the situation, and stayed calm, you wouldn't have needed constant protection."

Ryuusei's blood boiled. He wanted to argue, but… he couldn't.

Kousei was right.

"Third mistake." The jounin paused. "You still think life has value."

Ryuusei frowned.

"Do you think just because they were deserters, the fight wasn't serious?" Kousei asked. "Because they were weaker, they shouldn't have been a threat?"

The young man didn't answer.

"Simple missions kill more shinobi than anything else."

Kousei turned to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass.

"I've seen entire teams wiped out by bandit ambushes."

Misaki's eyes lifted, alert.

"I've seen shinobi underestimate their enemies and end up with a blade through their throat."

Ryuusei shivered.

"If you relax, if you hesitate, you die. Or someone beside you dies."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Kousei grabbed the cloak by the bed and draped it over his shoulders.

"I'll be out for a few hours. Rest, but stay alert."

Ryuusei frowned. "Where are you going?"

Kousei didn't answer immediately.

He just opened the door and glanced back at them, his eyes dark as the storm outside.

"Gathering information."

Then he vanished into the hallway.

The streets of Amegakure were nearly empty, except for a few hooded figures hurrying along, avoiding eye contact.

The village reeked of rust and dampness.

Kousei moved quietly, his gaze sweeping the alleys, the buildings, the subtle shifts in movement.

This village had always been a battlefield.

And now, war was at its doorstep.

Rumors scurried through the alleys like rats fleeing the rain.

Konoha, Iwagakure, and Sunagakure were at odds.

Minor conflicts were flaring up across the continent.

The Great Villages hadn't officially declared war, but the small-scale attacks were becoming frequent.

And Amegakure… was caught in the middle.

"So this is how it starts…" Kousei muttered to himself.

He stopped at an alley intersection. A presence.

His sharp gaze flicked toward the shadow leaning against the wall.

"You're paying way too much attention for my liking, shinobi." A rough voice rasped.

A man stepped out of the darkness, a mercenary, armed and scarred.

Kousei didn't move.

"I'd advise you to get out of this village before it turns into a graveyard," the man chuckled. "The war's already started. They're just pretending it hasn't."

Kousei said nothing. He already knew that.

But something in the mercenary's tone… gave him a bad feeling.