The Anbu ninja was startled. Hagoromo had detected the enemies, yet he and his team had sensed nothing... but he didn't doubt the boy's words. Every ninja had their own unique specialties, and as an Anbu, he would never look down on a shinobi simply because of their age.
Never underestimate any ninja—that was the first creed of the Anbu. Those who failed to follow it had long since ceased to exist in this world.
"I'll go handle them," the Anbu squad leader decided quickly.
"No," Hagoromo continued signaling. "You stay on guard; there might be other enemies we haven't found yet. As for those in the woods... I'll take care of them."
The Anbu hesitated for a split second, then nodded in agreement. He remembered his primary mission was to guard the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki and his secondary mission was to protect the medics. Killing enemies was a distant third. If Hagoromo went and died, it was a negligible loss in the grand scheme of the mission.
That was the cold reality of the Anbu.
Hagoromo, unaware or perhaps indifferent to the Anbu's internal calculus, slipped into the darkness and moved toward the hostiles. In his perception, the four enemies were spread out—they were being cautious in enemy territory. This separation gave Hagoromo the perfect chance to pick them off one by one.
As he walked, he pulled his blank white mask over his face. It was a literal "blank slate," with nothing but two holes for his eyes.
Then, he began to speak in a low, rhythmic voice. Despite the whisper, the wind carried his words back to the Konoha camp with haunting clarity:
"The bell of the Gion Monastery tolls..." "Echoing the impermanence of all things..." "The color of the Sala flowers reveals..." "The truth that the prosperous must decline..."
"Good evening, everyone." "Konoha Genin, Kamishiraishi Hagoromo. Arriving now..."
The woods were a mess of shifting shadows, but Hagoromo's eyes had already adjusted to the gloom. He closed in on the first enemy, stopping about twenty meters away. The ninja didn't seem to realize he had been spotted and remained perfectly still.
Confirmed. Not Konoha ninjas.
With the faint moonlight, Hagoromo caught the glint of a non-Konoha headband. That was all the confirmation he needed. He shifted his position, moving behind a tree, and reached into his pouch. He pulled out a kunai and three shuriken.
Without hesitation, he flicked his wrist.
The whistle of the projectiles through the air was sharp in the silent night, but the darkness offered cover. By the time the first enemy realized he was under attack, he no longer had a life left to ponder the direction it came from. One shuriken hit his face, one tore through his throat, and the third pierced his heart.
"Number one," Hagoromo counted silently.
Without even looking up, he threw the kunai directly above his head. A second enemy was perched in the branches of the very tree he stood under! The ninja had heard the strike on his comrade and peeked through the leaves to investigate—only to have a kunai end his life the moment his head appeared.
Inexperienced, Hagoromo noted. An expert wouldn't have reacted so hastily. He leaned to the side as the corpse hit the ground with a dull thud.
"Number two."
Judging by their reactions, these two were mere Genin. Experienced Chunin or Jonin wouldn't fall for such a predictable counter. This meant at least one of the remaining two was a Jonin; an infiltration team into the Land of Fire without a Jonin leader was a suicide squad, not a mission.
"One Jonin? Or two?"
In his perception, the remaining two hadn't moved. They were staying put despite the noise.
Good judgment. Moving in the dark makes you an easier target... but that only works if your opponent isn't a sensory ninja!
Hagoromo decided he no longer needed to hide.
Bright lightning sparked in his palm, the chirping sound exposing his location instantly. In the dark, he was as visible as a flare. Almost simultaneously, several shuriken flew toward him, but it was too late. With the activation of his Lightning Release (Chidori Stream variant), his speed surged four to five times its normal limit.
Hagoromo left an afterimage as he lunged toward another large tree. His lightning-coated hand thrust violently into the trunk!
The Lightning Release carved through the 40cm-thick wood as if it were paper, piercing the heart of the ninja hiding behind it. Hagoromo's arm was buried deep in the tree; the lightning had charred the wood, but his fingertips felt something wet. The scent of ozone mixed with the copper tang of blood.
"Number three."
But he wasn't satisfied. He frowned. He had hoped this strike would take out the Jonin, but this enemy had only managed to shift a few centimeters before being skewered—not the reaction of a Jonin. A Jonin would have at least avoided a fatal blow.
He didn't have time to relax. He knew the leader was about to strike!
Seeing Hagoromo's arm "stuck" in the tree, the enemy Jonin saw a perfect opening. A long blade lunged downward toward Hagoromo's skull! It seemed the Jonin was perfectly willing to sacrifice his Chunin teammate just to secure a kill on this unknown enemy.
But this was exactly the opening Hagoromo had baited.
I might not have the confidence to beat a Jonin in a fair fight, but in a trap of my own making...
Combat Peak: The Jonin's blade is inches from your head, but your arm is still through the tree. You have a split second to counter.