reincarnated in the world of naruto

The night stretched like a shroud over the land. The forest on the border, usually a refuge of shadows and whispers, was now a stage for imminent death. Among the treetops, the wind whispered warnings that no one would heed.

I stood motionless, hidden among the high branches, watching. Holding my breath. In the distance, the Iwa squad advanced with steady steps, confident, unaware of what awaited them.

Behind me, the Root shinobi remained in their positions, silent as soulless specters. They didn't blink, showed no signs of anticipation or doubt. Machines designed to execute orders without question.

And at the center of it all, Orochimaru smiled.

"Ah... what a delightful sight," he whispered, his voice slithering through the night breeze. "Look at them marching, so sure of themselves."

His tone was almost... amused. As if he were about to dissect a new specimen, not begin a massacre.

"When do we attack?" I asked in a low voice, though I already knew the answer.

Orochimaru tilted his head in false contemplation, letting the tension stretch like a rope about to snap.

"When they stop feeling safe."

His smile widened.

"When they see hell unleashed around them."

And then, it all began.

The air grew thick with the promise of blood. The Iwa squad advanced, unaware that every shadow around them hid their doom. Among the branches, the Root shinobi waited, motionless, their empty eyes reflecting the pale moon. And at the center of it all, Orochimaru smiled.

"It's time," he whispered, his voice dragging like invisible poison.

In an instant, the darkness erupted into a storm of death.

The first scream was lost in the whistle of a blade cutting through flesh. One of the Iwa men fell with a thread of blood escaping his throat before he even understood he was dying. The others barely had time to react as fire and wind lunged at them like hungry predators.

"Doton: Sando no Jutsu!"

Two walls of rock closed with brutal force, crushing a Root shinobi between them. The crunch of shattered bones was drowned out by the explosion of a sealing tag that lit up the night.

An instant later, the ground opened into a treacherous pit as another Iwa ninja activated his trap.

But Root didn't fall so easily.

From the shadows emerged a silver edge. Hiken: Tsukikage. The katana of an assassin slid with surgical precision, cutting through the stone armor of an enemy before they could react. Blood gushed hot into the cold night.

"Too slow," murmured the Root shinobi before turning to face another foe.

An Iwa ninja leaped toward him, his hands glowing with the chakra of the Ultra-Lightweight Rock Technique. His speed multiplied in a blink, his fist striking with the force of a catapult, slamming the Root shinobi into a tree with a dry crack.

Orochimaru watched from a high branch, amused.

"Interesting... but predictable."

He raised two fingers, and the air changed.

"Fūton: Shinkūhasu."

The wind materialized into an invisible scythe that sliced through the battlefield. Two Iwa shinobi were cut diagonally before they could even comprehend what killed them. Their bodies collapsed with a wet sound, their blood painting the ground.

I leaped into the fray, kunai in hand. My first target was a chūnin who had a kunai when I reached him.

I slashed with precision, the edge of my weapon sinking into the flesh of his side.

He didn't die instantly. He coughed blood as his chakra fluctuated in a desperate attempt to heal. But I gave him no chance.

A second cut, this time to his throat. Silence.

To my left, an Iwa jōnin formed hand seals at a demonic speed. I felt the chakra gathering around him. A large-scale jutsu.

But before he could complete it, Orochimaru's shadow appeared behind him.

The shinobi barely had time to turn his head before the Sannin's fangs sank into his neck.

A choked scream, a spasm. And then, paralysis.

"Oh..." Orochimaru sighed, pulling his fangs from the man's flesh, watching him with fascination. "How disappointing. I thought you'd last longer."

The jōnin's body trembled violently before collapsing, foam bubbling from his mouth. His nervous system collapsed in seconds.

Meanwhile, the forest had become a field of horror.

The surviving Iwa shinobi tried to regroup, but the ambush had been too swift, too brutal. Blood stained the earth, the trees, the very air.

But Iwa didn't surrender.

"Doton: Yōishi no Chinbotsu Kansei!"

The ground beneath the Root shinobi's feet turned into quicksand of rock and mud. One of them tried to leap, but his leg was caught, and the earth devoured him in seconds.

And then, the forest roared with flames.

"Katon: Haisekishō."

A sea of burning ash exploded, engulfing two Iwa shinobi in an instant inferno. Their screams rose into the night before they were reduced to ashes.

Orochimaru laughed.

"Beautiful... keep fighting. Keep screaming!"

The battle continued, a macabre dance of fire, wind, and stone. And death, patient, collected its toll on the border.

A wounded chūnin screamed as a Root shinobi brought him down, his kunai plunging in and out of his abdomen in mechanical motions. No emotion. No pause.

More explosions lit up the night, casting grotesque shadows against the trees.

And then, I saw him.

The man whose chakra I had sensed earlier.

He wasn't just any jōnin.

He stood among the corpses, his chakra aura swelling, pressing the air like a storm about to burst. His cold eyes scanned the battlefield, and when they met mine, his expression showed no fear.

Only rage.

"Bastards..." he spat, his voice a low growl. "You won't leave here alive."

The ground cracked under his feet as his chakra released in a devastating wave. The entire forest seemed to shudder.

And I knew, in that instant, that the real battle had just begun.

The jōnin barely had time to react before a sibilant laugh pierced the silence. Orochimaru stepped forward, with the serpentine cadence of a predator who had already chosen its prey.

"Don't strain yourself," he whispered with a twisted smile, his yellow eyes locked on his target. "I'll be your opponent."

The jōnin stopped, deadly serious. Orochimaru raised a hand lazily and, without even looking at them, ordered his followers:

"Kill the rest."

There was no urgency in his voice, only the certainty that his will would be fulfilled. As if the outcome were already decided.

Amid the chaos, the shadows of Root moved with lethal precision, their taijutsu a dance between brutality and ruthlessness. Arata, his Sharingan glowing like embers, stood firm, the wind whistling around him like an omen of the massacre about to unfold.

Before them, the Iwa ninja prepared their hand seals. One of them shouted:

"Crush them into the earth!"

The ground trembled as an enemy jōnin activated Doton: Daichidōkaku, raising a platform of rock to gain the advantage. But he had no time to attack. A silhouette flashed before him, his throat feeling the icy bite of a blade before blood gushed in a scarlet stream. Root gave him no chance to react; his Hiken: Tsukikage had cut the light of his life with the elegance of a silent executioner.

"One less," he whispered as the body fell lifeless.

The ground trembled as another enemy jōnin activated Doton: Daichidōkaku, raising a platform of rock to gain the advantage. But he had no time to attack. A silhouette flashed before him, his throat feeling the icy bite of a blade before blood gushed in a scarlet stream. Root gave him no chance to react; his Hiken: Tsukikage had cut the light of his life with the elegance of a silent executioner.

Arata lunged toward a genin. Without hesitation, he drew a handful of shurikens and threw them with deadly precision, embedding them in the young Iwagakure genin's body. One lodged in his right eye, another sank into his throat. The last ones pierced his chest, and he collapsed to the ground, a crimson pool spreading beneath him.

Another Iwa ninja appeared, explosive tags attached to kunai flying toward Arata. But the wind rose in fury as his Vortex of Wind absorbed the enemy weapons and their wielder in a whirlwind of invisible blades. The shinobi screamed as his skin tore, fragments of his own armor embedding in his flesh. Before he could even hit the ground, Arata appeared above him, his leg descending like the hammer of a god.

**CRACK!**

The skull split against a rock. The body lay lifeless, blood and brains scattered on the ground.

But there was no time to revel. A group of Iwa ninja emerged from the shadows with Meisaigakure no Jutsu, but the crimson gaze of Arata pierced their camouflage.

"You can't hide from me."

His Kamino Fuga burned in his palms, an incandescent arrow shooting toward the group. The explosion was instant, a pillar of fire enveloping the area, consuming the attackers in flames that devoured flesh and bone.

From the rear, an Iwa jōnin raised his hands, executing Doton: Sando no Jutsu. Two colossal walls of rock closed with crushing force on Arata.

"Die!" roared the enemy.

But when the trap closed, Arata was no longer there. In his place, a trail of wind marked his path, his Sharingan anticipating the attack seconds before. He appeared behind the jōnin, a kunai piercing the base of his neck with precision. Hot blood gushed as the ninja choked on his own life fluid.

The battle continued, but the scales were tipping. Root and Arata advanced as heralds of death, the ground littered with shattered corpses. Iwa was losing. And the massacre wasn't over yet.