Mask
Shirō ignored them and continued forming hand seals with his head lowered.
At first glance, forming seals without even looking seemed unimpressive, but it was necessary. Shirō had yet to reach the level where his hands could perfectly follow his thoughts without conscious guidance.
Moreover, the Mountain Thieves and Rogue Ninja only possessed a limited variety of ranged attacks—attacks that all fell well within the defensive range of his talismans. The arrow fired earlier had deviated precisely because of this.
Because of that, Shirō felt completely confident.
His hand movements weren't fast; in fact, he deliberately slowed them down, carefully observing the subtle changes that occurred during real combat.
After all, no matter how calm a ninja believed themselves to be, the mind inevitably fluctuated in battle. Those changes, however slight, would directly influence chakra flow and the execution of ninjutsu. Only through repeated adjustment and correction could one gradually gain an advantage.
These insights were closely guarded secrets—passed down orally from master to student, never written in scrolls.
Even though Shirō had borrowed vast amounts of experience through Projection Magic, knowledge of this nature was rarely included. If not for Hatake Sakumo's guidance, he might still have remained unaware.
Now that he understood, Shirō naturally wouldn't make such a low-level mistake again. He had made this awareness one of the core focuses of his training.
This was also why he insisted on using Mountain Thieves as test subjects for his ninjutsu experiments—rather than simply "harvesting" them.
Even though he slowed down, the entire process only took two or three seconds.
The moment his opponent finished speaking, Shirō's hands stopped.
"Wind Release: Pressure Damage!"
BOOM—!!!
The instant the compressed wind struck the makeshift fortress, it shattered completely. The violent explosion drowned out the Mountain Thieves' screams as debris scattered in all directions.
After destroying the barricade, Shirō pulled a small bottle of blood from his sleeve, crushed it in his palm, and formed seals once more.
"Summoning Technique!"
With a sharp bang, a dense mass of snakes appeared beside him, scales glinting in the firelight.
"Surround them. Don't kill them."
Leaving those words behind, Shirō vanished.
His purpose for this mission was to temper his Wind Release, so he intended to rely on it as much as possible when killing his enemies. The only reason he summoned the snakes was to prevent anyone from escaping—his earlier movements had caused far too much noise.
As it turned out, his judgment was correct.
By the time he caught up, several Mountain Thieves had already fled a short distance.
Without hesitation, Shirō flipped his wrists, drawing two kunai into a reverse grip. With a single step, he closed the distance.
Two streaks of blue light flashed.
The throats of the two nearest Mountain Thieves were severed instantly by Wind Release chakra extending from the kunai, and they collapsed without a sound.
After that, the blue blades danced relentlessly through the crowd. One Mountain Thief after another fell.
As he fought, Shirō became keenly aware of his shortcomings—and corrected them in real time. Each swing of the chakra blade was cleaner, sharper, and more refined than the last.
This rapid improvement was only natural. Until now, Shirō had studied this technique extensively but lacked real combat experience. Once he reached a higher level, progress would slow—taking even a single step forward would become far more difficult.
Suddenly, information flowed back from the snake summons.
The remaining ninja were attempting to break through while carrying documents.
Shirō halted, glanced at the few Mountain Thieves still alive, and calmly sheathed his kunai.
"Wind Release: Vacuum Sphere."
Puff. Puff. Puff.
One by one, the Mountain Thieves clutched their necks and collapsed.
As for how Shirō could so accurately strike their throats with Vacuum Sphere, the explanation was simple.
His dream was to become a cheat-level archer.
With the area cleared, Shirō used the Body Flicker Technique and vanished once more.
---
"Damn it! Move faster! These are summoning beasts—we've been targeted by a ninja!"
"Big Brother, what are you scared of? We're ninjas too! Worst case, we fight him!"
"Yeah! Third Brother's right! Besides, we're carrying too much stuff—it's slowing us down!"
The second brother gestured at the items crammed into his arms.
"Shut up!" the eldest snapped. "Are you an idiot?! Didn't you see that explosion just now?! And if you hadn't wasted all our money on pleasure, would we be unable to afford sealing scrolls?!"
"It's not like we expected to be attacked…"
"Enough. Break through quickly. With that lord's backing, we'll recover everything sooner or later."
Thud.
A soft landing echoed.
A masked boy appeared before them.
At the same time, the snakes halted their advance.
"Well," the boy said calmly, "that's truly regrettable. You won't have a 'later.'"
Despite the cruelty of his words, none of them felt fear.
Instead, they wanted to laugh.
All because of the mask.
The figure before them was Shirō. Based on prior intelligence, he knew these men were connected to officials from the Land of Fire. To avoid unnecessary trouble, he had chosen to conceal his identity.
Unfortunately, the mask he chose was… difficult to describe.
Its size, shape, and base color resembled a standard ANBU mask—but instead of a solemn animal motif, it displayed a wide, cheerful smile with rosy cheeks.
That's right.
It was Ba Ba's original mask.
No matter how intimidating the words, once spoken through this mask, they lost all their weight. Even if Uchiha Madara wore it, he wouldn't be able to strike a pose.
And that was exactly what happened.
"Pfft—!"
The second brother burst out laughing.
Hearing this, the third brother couldn't hold back either.
Cannon fodder truly was cannon fodder. As Rogue Ninja, their discipline and instincts were worlds apart from those trained in shinobi villages.
Shirō's eyes narrowed beneath the mask.
The eldest brother felt his heart seize and instinctively prepared to defend—
Pfft!
Shirō vanished.
In the next instant, he appeared behind the two laughing men, slicing their throats cleanly. They collapsed before a sound could escape.
"Tsk tsk," Shirō said mildly. "You actually dared to laugh at me."
He turned toward the last man.
"Who are you? What do you want?!"
"Does that matter?" Shirō replied. "But I'll tell you my objective."
He tilted his head slightly.
"You can start forming seals if you want—but hurry. I'll only count to ten."
"My objective is simple," Shirō continued. "To let you meet Broken Throat."
Pfft!
Before the man could react, Shirō appeared behind him and slit his throat.
"Ten."
Shirō flicked the blood from his kunai, twisted his wrist, and sheathed it. Then he raised his hand, summoning several Shadow Clones.
"Clean up the rest."
---
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