(A/N): Apologies for the delay, everyone! There was a power outage in my area for most of the day, and with my phone broken, I couldn't upload until now. Thankfully, power's finally back, so here we are! Thanks for your patience.
I followed the rest of Squad Fang across the rooftops, Sakumo leading the way with that quiet, unshakable rhythm he carried like it was second nature. Hawk, Serpent, Tiger, and Raven moved behind him, each step precise, deliberate. I brought up the rear, letting my eyes sweep over the formation as I adjusted to their cadence. Even for Heaven Fist, it was a new rhythm to learn.
"Keep your spacing steady," Hawk said, voice low but deliberate, carried along the wind. "Too wide, and someone can slip through. Too close, and you'll stumble over each other in a tight spot."
"Got it," I replied, easing myself into the rhythm. My body adapted quickly, but I still liked the reminder.
Serpent's voice came next, calm as ever. "Grass Country trees aren't forgiving. Watch your footing, don't overcommit your jumps. Patience beats speed every time." He glanced back at me briefly, a small nod acknowledging the skill he already knew I had. "Age doesn't matter here. Move with the team, or you don't move at all."
I let a faint smile tug at my lips. They didn't need to say it—the respect was already there. They'd seen the punch that felled the Nine-Tails. They'd watched me in the Anbu base and treated me like any other operative, not some child prodigy. And that mattered more than any praise.
Sakumo's voice, low and even, cut through the rustle of leaves and rooftops. "We'll clear the perimeter carefully. Isolate the guards quietly. No unnecessary exposure."
"Yes, sir," I said smoothly. Calm, precise, and completely in tune with the squad. The mask on my face didn't change who I was. Heaven Fist was still Ryo — mind steady, fists ready, heart in the right place.
Passing through the village barrier felt almost ceremonial, a quiet acknowledgment from the guards that this mission mattered. Once we were outside, the forest air hit me — crisp, alive, a reminder that there was more to life than rooftops and corridors. I inhaled deeply, savoring it, letting the scent of pine and earth push me forward.
Hawk's voice came again, soft but firm: "Patience. Watch, wait, and only strike when you're sure. That's how even the best avoid mistakes."
I let my eyes sweep over the shadows of my teammates as we leapt from the rooftops into the trees, their movements almost effortlessly synced. Sakumo's leadership, Hawk's vigilance, Serpent's calm — each one a lesson I'd carry with me. Tiger and Raven, steady and silent, held the formation's balance like pillars of a bridge. And somewhere at the back, I brought everything together, the youngest among them yet in step as if I belonged.
The Land of Grass awaited ahead, quiet and unassuming, but I could feel the tension under its calm surface. And as Squad Fang moved forward, I allowed myself a small, quiet grin. Missions like this were what we were born for.
Hours slipped by as we moved, the rhythm of our travel steady and efficient. The Land of Grass unfolded beneath us — fields scattered with mist, the faint scent of dew and earth carried on a cool breeze. We could've reached it sooner, but Sakumo had a reason for the slower pace.
"Speed isn't everything," he'd said earlier. "A shinobi who burns out before reaching the battlefield is already dead."
I nodded, even though the lesson didn't quite apply to me. My energy reserves barely dipped no matter how long or hard we moved. Infinite chakra and stamina came with certain advantages… and drawbacks, mostly disbelief.
So I just played along, matching their breathing rhythm and adjusting my chakra output to look normal. No one would believe me if I said I could keep this up for days.
When Sakumo finally signaled a break, the others landed lightly on the branches of a tall oak, settling into rest positions. Hawk leaned back, exhaling hard. "Three hours straight and not a single pause… It's been a while since I've had a leader push this pace."
Serpent chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, but look at the kid. Not even sweating. You sure he's human?"
Tiger grinned behind his mask. "He's Heaven Fist. 'Human' doesn't seem to apply anymore."
Raven hummed softly. "Monster's more fitting, I think."
I laughed under my breath, leaning casually against the trunk. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Even Sakumo turned slightly, his voice carrying that quiet amusement only veterans had. "Monster or not, it's good to know you've got the stamina for a long fight. Still, the break isn't optional. Even the strongest need time to reset."
"Understood, Captain," I said, keeping my tone respectful.
We stayed like that for a short while — the air quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves. The tension ahead felt distant for now, replaced by an unspoken camaraderie. When everyone finally stood again, recharged and ready, Sakumo gave a brief nod.
"Move out," he ordered.
We vanished back into motion, the world narrowing into the whisper of wind and leaves brushing past. The faint smell of smoke drifted in the air ahead — an enemy camp.
The Iwa-nin were close.
We slowed to a halt once Sakumo raised his hand. The faintest gesture — but enough for all of us to stop instantly, perching silently on the branches. The camp was close now; I could feel the faint disturbance of chakra signatures pulsing ahead like ripples beneath the earth. Any closer, and we'd light up on the enemy's sensory grid like lanterns in the dark.
Raven stepped forward, crouching low as he formed a quick string of seals. "Kuchiyose no Jutsu," he murmured. A soft puff of smoke bloomed at his feet, and a sleek black raven emerged, feathers catching what little moonlight filtered through the trees.
Without another word, the bird took flight — silent, efficient, gliding above the canopy. Raven's hands shifted again, forming a short sequence before pressing two fingers to his temple. His chakra stabilized, linking with the familiar in a subtle current I could sense even from here.
Through the bond, his voice came low and steady. "I've got visuals. Four tents — looks like a temporary camp. About a dozen chakra signatures. Two look like sensors; they're positioned on the east and north perimeters."
Sakumo nodded. "Weapons?"
"Standard Iwa gear. Kunai pouches, earth scrolls. No sign of explosive tags yet," Raven whispered, his voice distant, eyes glazed as he focused through the raven's perspective. "Wait… there's movement near the central tent. Stronger chakra signature. Likely their commander."
Hawk leaned closer, keeping his tone just above a whisper. "How long before the next patrol circles back?"
"Four minutes, give or take," Raven replied. "If we move during that gap, we can take out the sensors without alerting the main camp."
Sakumo turned slightly, his white mane catching the faintest hint of moonlight. "Good work Raven. Everyone prepare — we'll strike from the shadows. Heaven Fist, you're with me on the left flank. Once we take the sensors, we move on the command tent."
I gave a short nod. "Understood."
My pulse didn't rise, not even slightly. This was familiar — the calm before a storm, where every sound, every breath, carried weight. The rest of the world seemed to fade away as the mission focus took over.
Sakumo raised his hand, fingers steady in the dim light — the signal to begin.
Every movement after that was instinct.
The White Fang vanished first, his chakra signature dissolving like mist. A flash of silver cut through the dark, clean and soundless, followed by the faintest whisper of a body hitting the earth. No cry. No hesitation.
Hawk slipped next, shadow to shadow, his blade flickering with the faint reflection of starlight before it vanished beneath an Iwa-nin's guard. Serpent's chakra wire danced silently, coiling and tightening — one precise tug, a sharp snap, a single breath extinguished.
Tiger moved like a phantom, his strike a blur that crushed the windpipe of another sentry before he could gasp. Raven followed, melding into the dark; his kunai flashed once beneath a chin, then vanished with its master.
I waited — the tail of the formation, the last piece of the strike.
An Iwa guard turned, sensing movement too late. My kunai met his chest in a single fluid thrust — fast, precise, final. His eyes widened, breath catching for a heartbeat before his life left him.
The smell of blood reached me, faint and metallic in the cool air. The weight of it — that first life taken — pressed against my senses.
I froze. Just for a moment.
Then my thoughts stabilized, perfectly ordered. Focus. Mission. Move.
I lowered him gently, closing his eyes out of respect. The moonlight touched the crimson stains on my gloves, and for a moment, I simply watched them fade into shadow.
When I stood, the others were watching.
Tiger gave a low grunt. "First kill," he muttered, impressed. "Didn't even break rhythm."
Hawk chuckled under his breath. "Thought the kid would stiffen up. Guess not."
Raven tilted his head. "Monsters come in all ages, huh?"
Even Sakumo turned, eyes briefly meeting mine. No words, just a small, approving nod before his gaze shifted forward again.
I breathed out slowly. "Let's finish this."
Sakumo lifted his blade slightly, signaling forward. "Move. We regroup at the commander's camp."
We advanced again, silent as shadows gliding through the trees. Behind us, only the faintest traces of crimson marked where we'd been — whispers of the ghosts who'd passed through.
Sakumo's sword shimmered once more under the pale moon, each stroke faster than sight — and yet, even as I watched, part of me couldn't help but measure. His lightning was deadly, yes… but speed ruled this world.
And somewhere deep inside, I knew — I was faster.
The central tent loomed ahead, quiet under the pale moonlight. The perimeter was still, dust and the faint scent of disturbed earth the only signs of our passage. Sakumo signaled us to form up. "Central tent. Commander's inside. Stay alert."
We advanced, shadows slipping across the dirt like whispers. Sakumo's hand hovered at the tent flap, fingers brushing the hilt of his tanto.
Then, before he could move, the flap swung open.
A broad-shouldered man stepped out, forehead protector gleaming faintly. His chakra thrummed with Jonin-level control — calm, measured, lethal. He scanned the perimeter, smirk curling faintly at his lips.
"Well, well…" he said, voice smooth and confident. "Konoha's silver-haired ghost. I've heard the rumors… lightning-fast, a shadow that strikes and disappears. I was curious if the whispers were true."
We immediately fell back, forming a defensive circle. Around us, the ground began to shiver, almost imperceptibly at first.
Then it erupted.
Fifty, maybe sixty Iwa-nin burst from the soil like a tide of living shadows. Chunin-levels at the front, Jonin-levels toward the middle and rear, all moving with disciplined coordination. Weapons gleamed, earth-style jutsu flared, chakra thrummed — a classic human-wave tactic meant to overwhelm the best-trained opponents.
Sakumo's voice sliced through the tension. "Heaven Fist — left flank with Tiger. Hawk, Serpent, Raven — perimeter. Watch for openings. Stay sharp. No mistakes."
I glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. "White-Fang Senpai… guess our assassination has failed. Does that mean I can go all out?"
Sakumo's eyes flicked to me, a subtle nod acknowledging the question without breaking formation.
The commander's smirk never faded. "Did you think it would be that easy? Every one of them is waiting for you. Enjoy yourselves while it lasts."
The first wave hit like a thunderclap.
Kunai and shuriken rained down, silver streaks arcing through the moonlight like a storm of deadly raindrops.
Sakumo, Hawk, Serpent, Tiger, and Raven tensed, muscles coiling as their hands clasped together to form sealing signs.
I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders. "Time to stretch my muscles."
One breath. One spin.
The air howled as I kicked through it, a full 360-degree arc that tore the night open. Pressure exploded outward, scattering the metal storm in every direction. Blades clanged against stone and trees, ricocheting harmlessly into the dark.
Everything stopped — even the sound.
Then the earth cracked beneath me. The world blurred.
A deep, concussive boom rolled through the forest as I vanished, the shockwave snapping branches and flattening grass. When the sound caught up, I was already beside an Iwa jōnin. My fist met the air — and the air folded in on itself. Light rippled, a silent implosion of force. Where the man had stood, there was only the faint shimmer of dispersing chakra.
For the briefest heartbeat, no one breathed.
Then it began — the erasure.
Each flash of movement left another space empty, as if the night itself was swallowing pieces of the enemy formation. To the eye, it was nothing but streaks of light and the deep bass of air collapsing behind me. Fifty shinobi became forty, thirty. Gone in the span of a few heartbeats, without a trace or a sound but the thunder that chased each step.
Sakumo's instincts cut through the shock. His blade sang — a single arc of silver lightning — and the Jonin commander was cut in half. "Team Fang — move!"
The command ignited the others. Hawk's chakra scythes slashed through the smoke; Serpent's shadows leapt to choke the survivors' vision; Tiger and Raven weaved through the confusion, each strike silent and final.
The forest shook under the tempo of motion — Konoha's shadows weaving through moonlight and broken air.
And when it ended, only the wind dared move — carrying the scent of blood, ozone, and shattered earth. I stood still at the center, the world around me humming faintly, the ripples of shockwaves fading into the mist.
The forest was silent.
Not the silence of peace, but the kind that follows violence so complete even the night seems afraid to breathe. Smoke from scorched leaves drifted lazily through the air, and chakra residue shimmered faintly like heat on stone.
Ryo stood at the heart of it all — the ground fractured beneath his feet, air bending subtly around him, as though the world hadn't yet caught up to his motion. Beyond him, the battlefield told two stories.
One side was clean — too clean. Where Ryo had moved, there was only emptiness, faint distortions in the air, and the sharp tang of ozone. No blood. No bodies. Just absence — as if those he touched had been erased from existence.
The other side, where Sakumo and the rest had fought, bore the marks of a human war. Bodies sprawled among splintered trees, blood seeping into the roots, kunai still quivering from their final throws. Sakumo's strikes had left perfect, surgical cuts — swift, clean, merciless. Hawk and Tiger's kills were efficient, precise, but grounded in human weight and struggle — the difference between a man's strength and something far beyond it.
The silence stretched — thick, uneasy. Even the crickets had stopped singing.
Raven was the first to move, her mask turning slowly as she surveyed the devastation. "...All clear," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "No chakra signatures remaining. It's over."
Tiger exhaled heavily, lowering his bloodstained tanto. "Over?" He glanced around the ravaged camp — the crushed earth, the scent of ozone clinging to the mist. "Feels more like we just erased a piece of the map."
Hawk didn't speak. He was staring at Ryo — at the young ANBU standing so calmly amid the wreckage. For a heartbeat, he looked almost afraid to ask. But Sakumo stepped forward first, sword still faintly humming with residual lightning.
"Good work," he said quietly, voice steady but edged with something heavy — respect, and a trace of disbelief. His gaze swept the field once more before turning toward the central tent. "Raven, confirm no traps. Hawk, gather intel and scrolls. Tiger, check for survivors — if any."
Ryo didn't respond immediately. His eyes were fixed on the broken ground where his last strike had landed. The faint echo of movement, of something once alive, still lingered in his senses. A heartbeat later, he inhaled and exhaled — calm again.
Sakumo's eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, then he turned away. "Burn the rest," he ordered.
Raven nodded, already forming seals. Small tongues of orange-red fire spread through the camp, devouring tents and bodies alike, leaving nothing but glowing ash behind. The wind shifted, carrying away the scent of blood, and with it, the last whisper of the Iwa encampment.
By the time dawn began to stain the horizon, the air had shifted. The scent of iron and smoke was long behind us, replaced by the earthy calm of the Land of Fire's forests. The tension that had weighed on everyone's shoulders began to loosen, little by little, as we crossed back into home territory.
Raven stretched her arms overhead with a faint groan. "Next time," she muttered, "someone remind me that ambush cleanups count as cardio."
Tiger chuckled. "You say that like you didn't nearly decapitate three jonin in one swing."
"Details," Raven said with a shrug, though her voice held a small laugh this time.
Even Sakumo's usual calm demeanor began to thaw as the trees grew familiar. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded but faintly amused. "You all did well. And here I thought I'd have to carry this squad on my back."
That earned a few snorts — even a low chuckle from Hawk.
"You mean again," Tiger shot back.
"Ah, right. My mistake," Sakumo replied smoothly. His smile, faint but unmistakable beneath the mask, softened the mood more than any words could.
The conversation shifted — light, teasing, the way only comrades could speak after facing death together. Then someone mentioned their first kill, and the air changed — a subtle, heavy pause settled over the group.
Hawk spoke first, voice quiet, almost haunted. "Mine was during a border skirmish… I thought I'd done everything right. Then I looked down, and he was still breathing. Spent the night vomiting. Took me a week to sleep properly after that."
Tiger shivered slightly. "I… I couldn't even touch meat for a month after that kill."
Raven gave him a knowing nudge. "And you still wake up screaming at night."
Their voices softened, tinged with disbelief and respect as they glanced at Ryo.
Sakumo's gaze slid to him, calm and measured. "And you?"
Ryo tilted his head slightly, voice casual beneath his mask. "I froze," he admitted. "Just for a second. Then I remembered what I signed up for. After that… it was just another motion."
A quiet gasp passed through the others. They had expected hesitation, panic, maybe even the need for cover as he recovered. Yet Ryo had shifted seamlessly back into action — calm, composed, precise.
Hawk shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Kid… he… he didn't even flinch. Not a second longer than he needed."
Tiger's lips pressed into a tight line. "I thought I'd seen everything today. I was wrong."
Sakumo's eyes softened slightly, a faint trace of pride beneath the calm. "That's how it starts," he said quietly. "The trick is to never let ease turn into indifference. He handled it… remarkably."
Ryo met his eyes for a moment, the faintest hint of understanding passing between them — a silent acknowledgment that he'd survived his first test of human life and death without letting it touch him.
By the time the village gates rose before them, the group's voices had grown lighter again. Jokes returned, laughter spilling freely, but now shaded by awe and unspoken respect. Sakumo returned the guards' salute before motioning for everyone to follow.
"Come on," he said, tone once again businesslike but not without warmth. "Hokage's waiting. Let's make this report before someone decides to turn it into a song."
Ryo chuckled softly. "Wouldn't want the bard to miss a verse."
And with that, the six of them walked toward the Hokage Tower — tired, scarred, but unbroken — the first light of morning cutting through the mist as Konoha swallowed them back into its heart.
(A/N): And that's a wrap on Ryo's first blood! I tried to keep the fight intense and immersive, but without going overboard on the gore. I'd love to hear what you think — should future battles lean heavier into the blood and carnage, or keep this level of intensity? Either way, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and felt the tension and pace. See you all in the next one.