…
"Everyone."
The scarred Jonin's voice cut through the convoy with a calm that didn't match the situation.
"Prepare for contact."
No one asked what kind because they didn't need to.
At the Jounin's order, everything tightened instantly. The wagons remained in formation, but the atmosphere shifted as civilian drivers stiffened and shinobi settled into combat-ready stances, hands drifting toward weapons while eyes lifted to the surrounding ridges.
The minutes dragged by in heavy silence. Then the darkness answered as a sharp whistle cut the night.
Shuriken exploded from the trees on both sides of the road, flashing like silver death in the lantern light.
Two Konoha genin went down instantly. One crumpled with a shuriken buried in his throat, blood spraying across the nearest wagon wheel. The second staggered, a blade lodged deep in his chest, before toppling sideways into the dirt.
"Ambush!" the Jonin roared.
Chaos erupted.
More shuriken rained down. Murakami's fingers flicked out in a blur. Senbon needles shot from between them, intercepting two blades hurtling straight at his face.
He twisted, launching two more in the same motion, one deflecting a shuriken aimed at Hideki's blind spot, the other knocking away a pair streaking toward Sora's back.
The deflected projectiles spun harmlessly into the trees.
In one fluid continuation, Murakami drew another set of thin needles and hurled them into the darkness with pinpoint accuracy.
Two solid thuds followed, then pained groans from the shadows.
Nearby, Sakumo moved like lightning. His short sword flashed in a wide arc, deflecting a barrage of shuriken aimed at him.
Sparks flew as metal clashed against metal until the volley came to an end. He landed lightly, eyes scanning the treeline the groan had come from.
Murakami caught his glance and shook his head once. They were still alive.
'That is as expected. It's difficult to accurately hit a critical spot with only spiritual perception alone. If I had the Byakugan or Sharingan, that would be a whole different matter altogether.'
He shook the unnecessary thought away immediately. They were in the middle of an ambush.
Just then, explosive tags detonated in sequence along the roadside, sending dirt and shattered branches flying as enemy shinobi burst from the trees, at least a dozen, moving fast, faces masked, weapons drawn.
They struck like wolves, aiming to split the convoy and isolate the wagons.
"Defend the cargo!" the Jonin bellowed, leaping from his position with blade already drawn and met the first attacker head-on, their clash ringing out sharply.
Hideki roared and charged forward, fists wrapped in chakra as he slammed into an enemy. Sora formed rapid seals, slamming his palm to the ground. "Earth Style: Stone Wall!" A barrier erupted, shielding one side of the wagons from incoming projectiles.
Murakami flowed into motion with the order. He dashed along the top of the middle wagon, rods spinning into his hands.
A masked shinobi leaped toward him from the darkness and Murakami met him with a precise strike with the rod cracking against the man's forearm with a sickening snap, followed by a thrust that drove the second rod into the attacker's solar plexus.
The enemy crumpled, gasping.
Another foe appeared on his left, kunai slashing low. Murakami turned, Phantom Step carrying him just out of reach as he countered with a palm strike infused with compressed chakra.
The shockwave burst at point-blank range, launching the attacker backward into a tree with bone-breaking force.
Sakumo was a whirlwind nearby. His blade cut through the night in flickering white arcs, severing weapons and dropping enemies with terrifying efficiency.
One opponent tried to flank him, only to be bisected mid-leap.
The convoy devolved into a brutal melee. Civilians screamed and huddled beneath the wagons while the shinobi fought desperately to hold the line.
Explosions lit the darkness. Shouts and the clash of steel filled the air. Blood sprayed across the dirt road as bodies fell on both sides.
The scarred Jonin moved like a demon through the chaos, cutting down two enemies in rapid succession before spinning to block a surprise attack from behind. "Push them back! Do not let them reach the wagons!"
Murakami's eyes narrowed as he spotted a group of enemies trying to circle around the rear.
He launched himself forward, senbon flying from his fingers in a deadly rain. Two more attackers dropped, needles buried in their necks and shoulders.
Just then, he felt it, a chakra signature cluster emerging not from the treeline…but beneath the road itself.
His eyes widened slightly. "Under—"
The ground exploded upward.
Dirt and stone tore apart in a violent eruption as bodies forced their way through from beneath the road.
The convoy wagons jolted hard, one wheel snapping under the shockwave, sending wood splintering outward like bone under pressure.
A shinobi burst up first, mask already cracked from the force of ascent, jaw dislocated at a sick angle.
He didn't even fully clear the ground before Murakami saw the blood already pooling in his mouth. He spat it out mid-motion and still kept moving.
Another followed behind him, slower, dragging himself up with shredded fingers.
Fingernails were gone, just raw meat scraping stone as he hauled his own body out of the earth tunnel.
Murakami didn't know who initiated the Jutsu that caused this but seeing they weren't Konoha-nin, he didn't hesitate and flicked his wrist.
The first needle went through the first man's eye socket. Clean entry. The eyeball didn't resist, it collapsed inward like wet fruit being crushed, and the body dropped instantly back into the hole it came from.
The second needle struck the crawler in the throat.
Not a kill immediately.
Just enough to collapse the airway.
The man made a sound like air being forced through torn cloth, hands clawing at his neck as he staggered halfway out of the tunnel, choking on his own blood. He fell forward, still half-buried, legs kicking weakly in the dirt as the wound flooded.
More bodies climbed out behind them.
Not charging. Not clean.
Just pouring out, like something was being emptied.
Sora's voice cracked through the chaos. "There's—there's a tunnel system under the road—!"
He didn't finish as a blade came through his stone wall from the inside.
The barrier didn't shatter dramatically, it failed, with a fractured line spreading through it before it collapsed in chunks.
The attacker stepped through the broken gap and drove a kunai straight into the side of a Konoha-nin's neck.
There was no heroic reaction, just a sharp intake of breath then blood hit the wagon wall in a wide arc as the man collapsed, hands still half-raised like he hadn't accepted it yet.
Hideki's fist, coated with chakra, slammed into an attacker's face with a roar that the enemy's head snapped backward and he dropped immediately, twitching once before going still.
Another shinobi rushed Hideki from the side.
Hideki turned too slow and a blade went into his shoulder.
There was resistance at first, then a sickening give as it sank deeper.
Hideki didn't scream at first.
He froze, eyes wide, looking down at the embedded steel like he was trying to understand it.
Then pain caught up.
He howled and grabbed the attacker's wrist, crushing it with chakra-laced grip until bones audibly snapped.
The hand holding the blade went limp, but the weapon stayed inside him, vibrating slightly with his movement.
Murakami saw this and moved.
Phantom Step carried him across the space in an instant as his palm struck the attacker's ribcage.
The impact didn't knock him away like the earlier victim, it collapsed the chest inward. Ribs broke in multiple directions at once, puncturing lung tissue. The man flew backward, hit the ground, and tried to inhale.
Nothing came, only wet, choking gurgles before twitching once and going still.
Murakami didn't look at him long enough to confirm his death as he was already turning to meet another attacker lunging at him with a blade aimed for his ribs.
Murakami's rod met his elbow mid-swing.
The clash stopped the swing dead, the attacker's arm snapping out of alignment under the force and the weapon slipped from his hand as pain overtook him and he let out a cry.
Murakami didn't allow him that space and drove the rod upward into his jaw causing his teeth to explode outward in a spray. His skull snapped back before his body dropped like a sack.
Across the convoy, Sakumo moved through three enemies in one continuous arc.
His blade didn't just cut cleanly, it tore mercilessly
One opponent lost an arm at the shoulder and didn't realize it for half a second. Blood sprayed in a heavy sheet before the body finally reacted and dropped screaming.
Another tried to retreat and got his spine severed mid-turn. His lower half collapsed first, upper half following a beat later, dragging across the dirt as he twitched.
The convoy was no longer organized defense.
It was survival in fragments.
Bodies everywhere and their blood soaking into the road
The scarred Jonin's voice thundered through the space. "They're not here to steal the cargo, they're buying time!"
Murakami's eyes sharpened instantly.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Like it? Vote and Add to library! Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
But y'all still don't🙂↔️... Anyways, I'ma be writing and posting on my patr@on page for a while. Interested individuals can check it out here. I've got 10 extra chapters there.
[email protected]/This_Young_Lord