'Vampiric Gaze!'
Suguru's eyes flashed, locking his opponent's gaze in place. Irises so silvery, they could've been mistaken as mirrors, forced the haughty shinobi into looking into their own eyes.
Chakra was thus siphoned despite the distance, flowing as a stream straight into Suguru's eyes. The chakra threads used for communication were also tugged into the embrace of a gaze.
Then.
In a blur, Suguru flickered, his chakra propelling him forward. Not even an afterimage would be left behind.
It was just like teleporting.
—Whoosh!
Reappearing behind the shinobi, Suguru's hand snapped out, a kunai gripped tightly. The expression on his face was filled with complete disinterest.
Arrogant uncaringness.
—For a life not worth his time.
…At least, such was what the shinobi perceived in that singular instance of pure terror.
The cold, black shinobi iron sliced in a short arc of death with a mere flick of the wrist.
It was just like magic.
—Fwhip!
The blade sliced cleanly across the shinobi's carotid artery. The cut would thus be a mere eight millimetres, just enough for it to encompass the width of the artery.
Plus a little more for the spray.
Eyes went wide despite their perpetual narrowed gaze, while a mouth fell agape as blood sprayed. There wasn't even enough time for their life to flash.
All there was, was death.
—Thud.
Instant death.
The lifeless body crumpled to the ground, and a spray of blood created a faint crimson mist.
"The reckless one was you, my dear."
Suguru twirled the kunai in his hand. A chuunin's life had been taken just like that.
For a moment, the boy admired the small allusion to the growth of his technique. First, it had been the incorporation of martial arts into his battle style. Now, he was thinking of adding the dazzlingly subtle essence of a magician's sleight of hand.
In essence, [Shinobi Magic].
'How quaint,'
Suguru then vanished from where he stood, leaving a burning corpse as a warning and a wake-up call for friends and enemies.
There was yet another stakeholder in the events to come. Those little plans they were concocting beneath the Hokage's shadow?
They'd have no choice but to expect just as many unpredictable variables as the Hokage was currently toiling over.
* * *
In a densely covered treetop on the outskirts of Konohagakure, a few inconspicuous shinobi wearing varying civilian clothing were huddled around a crackling radio, awaiting a status report from one of their subordinates.
Yet… after just a few brief moments, all sounds from their subordinate's earpiece had gone silent.
It was unnerving.
At first, there was a voice full of excitement.
Then disdain upon certain realizations.
And then…
Now, there was nothing.
Static buzzed through the silence — a silence that grew heavier with each passing second. The shinobi exchanged glances, each one etched with concern. The absence of a signal spoke volumes, confirming what they feared most: they had just lost someone in that brief moment.
Oh, how fickle life had been.
"W-what was that…" A sound came from another part of the radio — this one using a different channel.
It was from one of those dispatched nearby.
"…Someone killed Falcon, Jura," one of the commanders whispered an answer to his subordinate, his voice barely carrying over the fire's pops and hisses.
"Silver hair, and a childlike stature… Was it the Ghost?" Jura asked with a faint tremble in his voice.
One of the other commanders leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as if to ward off the grim reality.
"They say he's just a kid," he murmured. "I can't believe that it was real. Konoha had created another genius of Shisui's caliber, it seems."
The moniker 'Ghost of the Land of Rivers' conjured images of a specter haunting the riverbanks of an adjacent country — a legend birthed from whispered tales of survival.
Those who had glimpsed him had long spoken of long silver hair that shimmered like moonlight on water and a child-like stature that belied a terrifyingly silent and lethal prowess.
Furthermore, there were stories that claimed even Shimura Danzo of Konoha's Root had personally placed a special directive upon his head.
Another commander — a veteran shinobi, scarred from the previous Shinobi World War, — scoffed at the notion.
"Child or not, underestimate him at your peril. His age is irrelevant; it's his eyes that haunt you. Some sources have claimed that he has the Uchiha Clan's Sharingan."
Rumors had spread like wildfire, some saying the Ghost was an old soul reborn in youthful flesh through a special Kinjutsu, while civilian rumors were claiming he was a demon child sent to torment them.
However, although the tales varied, all agreed on one thing: the Ghost was dangerous.
—Tsk.
Someone clicked their tongue, and the radio was adjusted to send a message to all active channels.
"All personnel dispatched to the West… Fall back and hide as best as you can. The Ghost is in Konoha."
"I repeat…"
—Swish.
The sound of a singular note echoed throughout every active channel. It was awfully similar to the time Falcon had been slain.
"!!!"
Several pairs of eyes widened in shock. For a moment, every commander felt their breath getting stuck in their throat.
—hahahahahaha!
The faint laughter of a child echoed throughout the room.
And everyone got the chills. Sweat dripped down their backs. The sound of a child's laughter, supposedly innocent and carefree, was now a horror story that might frighten them awake should they try to sleep.
For a moment, none of the commanders knew what to do.
"Fourteen shinobi… All presumably killed in the same instance. There was no other implicating factor between them other than the earpiece they were wearing for communication. We made sure of this."
The commander who had been analyzing the situation was trembling.
"Was it because they all received the same command?"
Had someone been listening to every earpiece in Konoha? Was their cover blown merely because someone made an announcement into a shared network?
"…Who can believe that something like this is possible?"
"Because it isn't." Someone began rationalizing. "It's probably a trick."
But how?
And more importantly… why?