The kid was dragged forward, small feet stumbling against the rough ground. His chest rose and fell fast, alert, every sense stretched to its limit. Behind him, the hunters moved with precise, practiced brutality — a force that had captured many before, and now aimed at him.
One of the hunters stepped forward, gesturing to a large mechanical device. "You see this?" he said, voice low and cruel. "It moves slowly at first. But when it finds its target, it doesn't stop until it's done its job."
The blade attached to the rotating arm glinted as it moved in a careful arc. "Many who resisted ended up here. Some tried to fight. Some ran. None of them walked away the same."
The kid's eyes narrowed, the small body tensing as he took in the device. He could feel their anticipation, their expectation that fear would break him.
He swallowed hard, then tried to speak, letting his words carry more defiance than sense. "You think this will scare me? That little trick won't stop me. You're all just—" He stopped abruptly, realizing the hunters' eyes had sharpened. Rage flared in him instead of fear.
"Quiet, kid," one hunter snapped, gripping his arm tighter.
But the kid wasn't intimidated. He jabbed words at them, daring, sharp — a small voice carrying fury far bigger than his size. "You think I'm weak? You'll see who's stronger!"
The hunters exchanged glances. This was unusual. Most victims cowered, begged, or froze. This one talked back — and not just talked, but taunted, baited, dared them.
"Patience," the first hunter said, hand on the machine. "We'll see how long that bravado lasts."
The blade continued its slow rotation, the device humming ominously. The kid's chest heaved, mind racing. He didn't want to fight — but every instinct screamed that he needed to survive.
The kid glared at them, fists clenched tightly. "You'll regret doing this," he said, voice trembling with both defiance and anger.
One of the hunters leaned closer to the device, eyes narrowing. "For other victims, we used this slowly," he said calmly. "Through their hand, one careful move at a time. But you… little brat, you're impressive. For you, we won't use the same method."
With a sudden motion, he cranked the rotation faster. The arm spun, the blade glinting as it cut through the air. The kid's eyes stayed locked on it, wide and alert, every nerve on edge.
In an instant, the device moved faster than expected. His chest froze, breath catching. A single tear slipped down his cheek, then another. For a tense moment, the world seemed to stop.
Then, slowly, his breath returned. He cried softly, shaking, but not a single scream escaped his lips. He was overwhelmed, yes, but his mind stayed sharp. He kept his focus, alert to every movement, calculating his next step.
The hunters watched, impressed despite themselves. "Interesting," one muttered. "He's tougher than we imagined."
The kid wiped his tears with the back of his hand, small body trembling but eyes bright. He didn't want to fight, but every instinct told him to survive. He was ready — ready for whatever they tried next.
One of the hunters sneered. "Now, see? You cried. Who's strong now?"
The kid's chest rose and fell quickly. "Leave me alone, and I'll show you who's strong," he said firmly, eyes blazing with determination.
Another hunter smirked. "I have an idea. Let him run — we throw a kunai. Wherever it hits, the machine will act next."
The kid bolted forward, moving swiftly between the hunters. The first kunai struck him, and immediately the hunters adjusted the machine to that spot, forcing him to react and dodge quickly. He barely had time to recover before the second kunai came flying, aimed precisely. Again, he dodged, keeping his focus sharp and studying their patterns.
As the third kunai was released, he recognized its path instantly. Using his training, he caught it by the back and flipped it toward the hunters, hitting one of them and causing a distraction.
Seizing the moment, the kid dashed through the area, weaving between buildings and corners. The hunters were momentarily preoccupied, allowing him to disappear into a crowded street filled with villagers. Hidden among them, he finally put distance between himself and the hunters, heart racing but mind alert.
The kid stumbled, weakness overtaking him from the chase and exhaustion. His chest heaved, and his clothing was soaked, a clear sign of the struggle he'd endured. Villagers who saw him immediately recognized he needed help. They gently guided him to the nearest hospital, carrying him carefully inside.
Meanwhile, one of the ENKA members was tasked with notifying Tsunami. The ENKA hurried to the house and knocked at the door. Kairen opened it, her expression alert.
"There's an Inazuma child in the hospital," the ENKA said, voice urgent.
Kairen nodded. "Alright," she replied, closing the door behind them.
She quickly went to inform Tsunami. "Tsunami-sama, there's a child from Inazuma sent to the hospital," she said.
Tsunami's brow furrowed. "Kairen, go check if Kaito and Ayame are asleep in their room."
Kairen went quietly to their room, peeking inside. Both children were soundly asleep. She returned to Tsunami.
"They're sleeping," Kairen reported.
Tsunami's expression grew serious. "Hmm… then we don't know who it is yet. Stay alert, Kairen. Keep watch and don't sleep until I arrive."
Kairen nodded, understanding the weight of Tsunami's words, and positioned herself to remain vigilant until Tsunami could come.
The hospital room was quiet except for the faint hum of the machines beside the bed. Curtains swayed gently with the air from the vent, and the night outside was calm — too calm compared to what had happened earlier.
On the bed lay the young boy the villagers had rescued, his body weak from exhaustion and loss of strength. His breathing was uneven, and a faint frown crossed his face as he drifted deeper into unconsciousness.
Then, the darkness around him shifted — turning into something vivid and cruel.
He stood in the middle of a ruined street, the sky above heavy with smoke and faint light. Two figures stood beside him — Kaito and Ayame — both older now, around eight, confusion and fear clear on their faces.
Wind blew through the broken street, carrying the echo of footsteps. From the shadows emerged several ninjas, their faces hidden, their presence sharp and cold.
"Stay close!" the boy shouted, stepping in front of Ayame.
One of the ninjas laughed darkly. "So protective… let's see how long that lasts."
Before he could react, a masked ninja lunged forward, grabbing Ayame by the arm. She screamed, trying to pull free.
"Wait! Take me instead!" he yelled, pushing forward — but rough hands caught him first, pulling him back.
"You think we'll agree to that?" another voice said mockingly.
Kaito ran toward them, shouting, "Let her go!" but a swift strike sent him tumbling back, hitting the ground.
"Kaito!" Ayame cried.
The boy tried to move, anger and panic flooding him. He raised his hand, chakra flickering weakly — but another hit came from the shadows, sending everything to black.
He jolted awake, breath catching, eyes wide. Sweat rolled down his temple as the dream broke apart. The white ceiling of the hospital came into focus, replacing the broken street.
His small hand clutched the bedsheet tightly, the fear still clinging to him — until exhaustion pulled him back into uneasy sleep.
His breathing steadied slowly as the nightmare faded. Blinking through the blur in his eyes, he turned his head — and there she was.
Tsunami sat quietly beside the bed, her posture calm but her eyes carrying the weight of everything she'd just witnessed. She had seen him struggle in his sleep, whispering names, trembling as if fighting something only he could see.
When their eyes met, the boy's lip trembled. He didn't say a word at first — just stared, disbelief flickering across his face.
"…Grandma?" he whispered, voice weak but full of emotion.
Tsunami smiled softly, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "It's me," she said gently.
He didn't hesitate. He pushed himself up and reached for her, wrapping his small arms around her tightly. Tsunami caught him instantly, pulling him close.
For a moment, neither spoke. His shoulders shook, quiet sobs escaping as he buried his face against her.
Tsunami closed her eyes, her hand resting on his head. A tear slid down her cheek, but she turned her face away so he wouldn't see.
"You're safe now," she murmured, her voice steady despite the ache inside. "No one will hurt you anymore."
He clung tighter, like he was afraid she'd disappear if he let go.
Tsunami stayed like that, holding him, letting the silence fill the room — the kind of silence that spoke louder than words.
Outside, the first hint of dawn began to light the sky, and for the first time since the chaos began, there was peace.
The steady beep of hospital monitors filled the quiet room. Moonlight spilled through the blinds, brushing across the boy lying on the bed.
The door slid open — a nurse stepped in, holding a chart.
"Lady Tsunami," she said respectfully, "the boy's vitals are stabilizing. The injuries aren't severe, but… there's something unusual. His chakra flow—it's inconsistent, almost… foreign."
Tsunami's eyes narrowed.
"Foreign?" she repeated, studying the nurse closely. "Since when do hospital nurses analyze chakra patterns?"
The nurse froze for half a second — then forced a smile. "Just… doing my job, ma'am."
Tsunami said nothing. She moved closer to the boy, carefully unclipping the sensors and tubes attached to his chest and hands.
Leaning near, she whispered softly, her voice calm but sharp:
"Haruto, listen carefully. This place isn't safe. Enemies are disguised among us. I'm going to make a way for you… when I do, you run. No questions. Understand?"
The boy's eyelids trembled. He gave a faint nod.
Tsunami turned toward the far wall, walking with measured steps.
"You know what to do once you're outside," she said over her shoulder.
Suddenly —
A blur moved behind her.
The "nurse" leaped, a hidden blade flashing under the pale lights —
Tsunami spun, her fist glowing with chakra, and struck.
A shockwave rippled through the room as the impostor was sent crashing backward, the illusion around him shattering to reveal the hunter's true form.
Her voice turned cold.
"You picked the wrong place to start a war."
From the opposite side, the wall behind the hunters exploded inward — dust and stone scattered as more hunters stormed in, masks gleaming under the flickering lights.
Tsunami's eyes hardened. She slammed her glowing palm against the wall near her, breaking it outward, creating a jagged opening to the night beyond.
"Go, Haruto! Now!"
Without hesitation, the boy dashed toward the opening, leaping out into the dark streets below as the chaos erupted behind him.
Tsunami exhaled slowly, lowering into her combat stance, chakra pulsing through her arms like lightning.
"Let's see how long you last," she murmured, as the first hunter charged toward her.
While chaos erupted at the hospital, the night remained calm at a quiet, moonlit home on the far side of the village.
The peaceful silence was broken by faint, distant screams carried on the wind — desperate cries for help.
Kairen froze mid-step in the hallway, her instincts instantly on edge.
That voice… it's close.
She rushed upstairs, her footsteps light against the wooden floor as the sounds grew louder — terrified, trembling.
Without a second thought, she kicked the door open.
Inside, Ayame stood in front of Kaito, arms spread wide, her small body shaking but defiant. Two masked figures crept through the window's shadow, their eyes glinting under the moonlight.
"Ayame!" Kairen shouted.
The hunters turned sharply, but before they could react, Kairen hurled a small sphere across the room.
A burst of white smoke filled the air, thick and blinding.
Coughs and curses echoed as she dashed forward, seizing both children's hands.
"Stay low and don't look back!" she ordered.
Through the haze, she guided them toward the door and down the stairs. Behind them, glass shattered — the hunters had realized their prey was escaping.
Outside, Kairen sprinted across the darkened yard, holding Ayame and Kaito close.
Flames flickered faintly in the distance — the first signs of chaos spreading from the hospital.
Her jaw tightened. They've started it everywhere at once…
She adjusted her hold on the children and whispered, "Hold on. I'll get you somewhere safe."
The three vanished into the night just as masked figures landed silently on the roof, scanning the shadows below.
Haruto dashed through the narrow, moonlit streets, clutching his left arm tightly. His sleeve was soaked in blood, every movement sending waves of pain through him.
Behind him, shadows leapt across the rooftops — hunters, swift and silent, blades glinting under the pale light.
"Don't let him get away!"
"Catch him before he vanishes again!"
Haruto's breath came in short bursts. I just have to keep moving… can't stop now!
He turned sharply, vaulting over a broken cart and sprinting through a narrow alleyway. Up ahead, a small restaurant stood — its sign swaying in the night breeze.
On the roof, a lone figure crouched — Miri. Her sharp eyes locked onto the scene below: a hunter closing in behind Haruto, sword raised, ready to strike.
Her expression hardened. "Not on my watch."
In one smooth motion, Miri leapt from the rooftop, spinning midair as her kunai gleamed under the moonlight. She landed behind the hunter — swift, precise — and drove the blade in with a flash of steel.
The hunter collapsed instantly. Silence followed, broken only by Haruto's labored breathing.
He looked up, startled but grateful. "Th… thank you…"
Miri wiped her blade clean and nodded.
Haruto stumbled forward, pushing open the restaurant door. "Yuji-san!" he called out, voice trembling but urgent. "Hunters attacked the hospital — Grandma Tsunami is still there fighting them! They're spreading through the village!"
Yuji turned sharply, his expression shifting from calm to fierce determination. "Understood."
He grabbed his gear and glanced at Miri. "Inform the Enkage immediately. Tell them to prepare for full-scale defense."
Then he turned to Haruto, his tone softening slightly. "You stay here. You're injured — let the medics handle it once they arrive."
Miri nodded once. "Be safe, Haruto," she said quietly before disappearing into the night.
Yuji gave Haruto one last reassuring look — then dashed out, vanishing into the chaos as the village lights flickered and distant explosions echoed across the sky.
The night air grew heavy as Kairen sprinted through the winding streets, clutching Ayame and Kaito's hands tightly.
Their breaths came fast, hearts pounding, the sound of pursuit echoing close behind.
She turned a corner—only to freeze.
A towering wall of debris blocked the path. The road ahead was gone.
Kairen scanned the surroundings — narrow alleys, overturned carts, fallen signboards. No way out… but plenty of places to hide.
She dropped to a knee, steadying her breath. "Listen to me," she whispered urgently. "Go hide behind that old market stall. Stay low, stay silent, and don't come out until I call. Understood?"
Ayame's eyes were wide with fear, but she nodded quickly. Kaito clenched his fists, wanting to argue — but Kairen gave him a firm look.
"Now!"
The two children ran, ducking behind the wooden stalls as Kairen drew her kunai.
The street fell silent — then, faint footsteps approached.
From the shadows ahead, several hunters emerged, masks gleaming, eyes glowing faintly beneath the moonlight.
Kairen took a deep breath, adjusting her stance. "So… you followed us all this way."
She tightened her grip on the kunai. "Fine. Let's see if you can leave alive."
Yuji stood on a deserted rooftop, hands pressed together in a seal. His eyes glowed faintly as waves of chakra pulsed outward, spreading across the village like ripples in water.
Within moments, his sensory field picked up countless hostile signatures — moving fast, closing in from every direction.
"Tch…" Yuji muttered, his brow tightening. "They're everywhere."
He touched the small communicator in his ear.
"All units near the residential blocks — evacuate civilians and form defensive lines. Protect every home until reinforcements arrive."
From rooftops in the distance, dark silhouettes of allied ninjas began to move, flashing through the moonlight as they leapt toward the danger.
Yuji took a steadying breath, his eyes hardening. "Hang in there, Sensei Tsunami."
Then, in a blur of motion, he vanished from the rooftop — a streak of blue chakra darting toward the hospital.
Inside the Enkage's office, the atmosphere was tense. Papers rustled as an aide reported distant explosions.
The door slid open — Miri rushed in, slightly out of breath.
"Lord Enkage!" she said urgently. "Hunters have attacked the village! Papa sent me here to inform you!"
The Enkage's calm eyes flickered with concern, then resolve.
"I see… it's begun."
He stood, turning toward his assistant. "Alert the defensive units. Deploy the Shadow Guard and activate the southern barrier."
"Yes, Lord Enkage!" the aide replied, vanishing in a flash.
Then he looked back at Miri. "You did well coming here, Miri. Go now — find shelter and stay safe. I'll handle the rest."
Miri hesitated, fists clenched. "Yes, Lord Enkage."
She bowed slightly before turning and running out, her expression filled with worry.
Outside, the sirens began to wail — the entire village now bracing for battle.
Haruto sat inside the restaurant, still catching his breath. The streets outside had grown quiet — too quiet.
He turned his head toward the window.
Shadows were moving.
His eyes widened — hunters.
Without thinking, he bolted out the back door, clutching his injured arm. His sandals scraped against stone as he sprinted down the twisting alleys, turning corner after corner. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, every breath sharp and uneven.
But his legs gave out. He stumbled over debris and fell hard onto the ground.
From behind, a hunter approached, voice cold and mocking.
"That arm hurts, doesn't it?" he sneered. "Let me take care of it for you."
Before Haruto could react, pain shot through his arm. His vision blurred — the sight of red made his breathing falter. His body trembled, and everything went dark.
As the hunters stepped closer to grab him—
A streak of orange light flashed through the alley.
Something small landed in front of Haruto — a compact figure with a body like blackened charcoal, tiny flames dancing wildly on its arms and head. Its mask-like face glowed with fierce yellow eyes.
Another figure appeared beside it — a small rabbit-like creature, white as snow, with orange marks around its ears and feet. Its gaze burned with determination.
The hunters froze, taken aback.
The charcoal creature's flames flared higher, and with swift, precise movements, it struck — the attackers were overwhelmed in seconds, collapsing before they could react.
The rabbit-like one moved to Haruto's side, gently lifting him by the shoulders with surprising care. Cradling his arm, it glanced once at its partner before carrying Haruto away into the night.
They vanished into the forest's edge, reaching a hidden place — quiet, warm, and lit by the glow of small embers scattered across stone walls. The creatures laid Haruto down and began to heal his wounds, wrapping his arm in bands of glowing light, restoring what was lost with a strange, gentle energy.
Haruto sat inside the restaurant, still catching his breath. The streets outside had grown quiet — too quiet.
He turned his head toward the window.
Shadows were moving.
His eyes widened — hunters.
Without thinking, he bolted out the back door, clutching his injured arm. His sandals scraped against stone as he sprinted down the twisting alleys, turning corner after corner. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, every breath sharp and uneven.
But his legs gave out. He stumbled over debris and fell hard onto the ground.
From behind, a hunter approached, voice cold and mocking.
"That arm hurts, doesn't it?" he sneered. "Let me take care of it for you."
Before Haruto could react, pain shot through his arm. His vision blurred — the sight of red made his breathing falter. His body trembled, and everything went dark.
As the hunters stepped closer to grab him—
A streak of orange light flashed through the alley.
Something small landed in front of Haruto — a compact figure with a body like blackened charcoal, tiny flames dancing wildly on its arms and head. Its mask-like face glowed with fierce yellow eyes.
Another figure appeared beside it — a small rabbit-like creature, white as snow, with orange marks around its ears and feet. Its gaze burned with determination.
The hunters froze, taken aback.
The charcoal creature's flames flared higher, and with swift, precise movements, it struck — the attackers were overwhelmed in seconds, collapsing before they could react.
The rabbit-like one moved to Haruto's side, gently lifting him by the shoulders with surprising care. Cradling his arm, it glanced once at its partner before carrying Haruto away into the night.
They vanished into the forest's edge, reaching a hidden place — quiet, warm, and lit by the glow of small embers scattered across stone walls. The creatures laid Haruto down and began to heal his wounds, wrapping his arm in bands of glowing light, restoring what was lost with a strange, gentle energy.
Kairen panted, clutching her side, blood seeping through her torn sleeve. The hunters surrounded her — she had fought until her strength nearly ran out.
Just as she lowered her guard, accepting the worst—
Figures dropped from the rooftops.
Village ninjas — reinforcements.
They engaged the hunters, weapons flashing under the moonlight.
Kairen sank to one knee, gasping. "I… I didn't fail them," she whispered, as the battlefield erupted around her.
Across the village, chaos raged — fires burned, blades clashed, and distant shouts echoed:
"Recruit! Recruit anyone who can fight!"
Miri burst through the door, eyes darting around — the chairs overturned, traces of battle everywhere.
"Haruto?" she called out, her voice breaking slightly.
Silence.
She clenched her fists. "Please be safe…"
The two mysterious creatures watched quietly as Haruto's breathing steadied. His arm — once broken and burned — now glowed faintly, fully restored.
The charcoal one gave a low, crackling sound — almost like a sigh.
The rabbit tilted its head, watching the boy closely as the flames around them dimmed to a peaceful glow.
The night finally began to calm — for now.
Haruto blinked awake to the sound of water dripping. The cave was dim, faint crystal light tracing along the walls. He sat up slowly, every part of him heavy but… whole. The bandages and strange glow had faded; his arm felt steadier.
Shadows shifted at the edge of the light. Shapes moved — and four figures stepped forward, each different and watching him with careful, curious eyes.
The first was small and white, a rabbit-like creature no taller than Haruto's knee. Its fur was bright and clean, with orange markings on its ears and feet and a tiny, earnest face that watched him with large dark eyes.
Beside it stood the second: a compact figure of sooty, charcoal-black form. Tiny flames burned at its head and shoulders, flickering red-orange. A pale mask covered its face, the glow of its eyes sharp and steady through the slit.
Behind them, a dragon-shaped silhouette unfolded: scaled and lit by molten-gold eyes, wings folded but powerful, its presence calm and ancient.
And finally a monkey-like figure, lean and upright, with fiery markings across its chest and arms. Sparks drifted from its tail as it shifted, ready and watchful.
Haruto swallowed, voice small. "Who… are you?"
The rabbit hopped a little closer, its tone warm as a bell. "We are friends," it said simply, as if that explained everything.
The charcoal figure's flames flickered. "We are the last survivors of our worlds," it added, voice low and steady. "Our contracts were lost when our homes fell. Your call reached across the gap."
The dragon's eyes softened. "We answered because something in your chakra answered us. We could not leave you."
The monkey bowed its head once. "We came when you were in danger. We will stay while you need us."
Haruto looked from one face to the next, suddenly very small in that wide, echoing cave. Relief and a strange new responsibility mixed in his chest. "You saved me," he whispered.
The rabbit gave a little nod, and the charcoal figure's small flames dimmed to a friendly glow. The dragon let out a low, comforting rumble; the monkey gave a short, encouraging clap.
"Rest a moment," the dragon said. "When you are ready, go home. The village needs you."
Light gathered around Haruto like a tide, warm and steady. In an instant the cave blurred — and he found himself at the edge of the village, the night air cool against his face. Smoke still curled on the horizon, but the streets near him were quiet.
He steadied himself, then walked toward the familiar house where Tsunami, Kairen, Ayame, and Kaito waited inside. The door opened as he stepped in, and the four sets of eyes in the room turned toward him.
Ayame's breath caught. Kaito's face went still. Kairen braced herself. Tsunami simply rose and smiled, eyes soft and full of something like relief.
Haruto let out a small, shaky laugh. "I'm home," he said.
Ayame ran forward first, throwing herself into his arms. Kaito followed, and the room filled with the quiet, raw relief of being together again.
The four creatures watched from the doorway for a moment, then melted back into the night as quietly as they had come — guardians and survivors of worlds far away, their promise kept for now.