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Chapter 319-Nightmare
🕑 Added 2024-12-13 20:45:36 +0000 UTC“Your cover is gone!” Renjiro called out, his voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the cacophony of destruction. “It’s better you reveal yourselves now so we can end this quickly.”
For a moment, there was no response. Only the crackle of flames and the hiss of sap boiling in the trees broke the silence. The forest seemed to hold its breath as if even nature itself was waiting for what would come next.
Renjiro’s Sharingan spun lazily beneath his mask, scanning for any movement. The faint ripples of chakra he’d sensed earlier were now more subdued, but still present—a sign that his pursuers were skilled at suppressing their presence.
Out of the smoky haze, figures began to emerge, one by one. Renjiro counted five in total, their silhouettes solidifying as they stepped into the firelight. Their uniforms bore the unmistakable insignia of Kumogakure, the Hidden Cloud. Hardened expressions adorned their faces, their postures those of seasoned warriors.
“Kumo shinobi,” Renjiro murmured to himself, his mind racing. Even now, with them standing in front of him, their chakra signatures remained faint—almost imperceptible. It had been this oddity that had alerted him during his journey and prompted his drastic action to lure them out.
One of the shinobi, a wiry man with sharp features, broke the silence. “They were right. Uzumaki Renjiro is indeed a notable sensory-nin. He even managed to pick us out, even with Seiji-sama’s help.”
The shinobi next to him shot a glare his way. “Mihara, keep quiet,” he hissed, his tone sharp.
Renjiro tilted his head slightly, masking his curiosity. “Who is this Renjiro you speak of?” His voice carried an edge of mockery, though behind his mask, his thoughts churned.
'How do they know who I am?' he wondered, his mind racing.
His usually vibrant red hair was dyed black, and his ANBU mask concealed his identity. Few people even knew he’d left the village, due to the nature of the matter at hand, and those who did were from Konoha, not Kumogakure.
At first, he’d assumed they were here to intercept his mission. Kumogakure had always been a rival to Konoha, and their distrust ran deep. But the mention of his name—a detail they shouldn’t have known—made him realize there was more to this encounter.
“Don’t even try to pretend,” another voice interrupted, belonging to a tall man with a commanding presence. His dark eyes gleamed with intensity. “We already know it’s you. We’re just here to claim the bounty on your head. Nothing personal.”
Of course, he was lying, this was just a convenient excuse Kumo decided to use to assassinate Renjiro.
Renjiro stiffened slightly as he thought, 'Were they behind the sudden increase of my bounty?'
“A bounty, huh?” he said, his voice flat. “I think you have the wrong guy.”
Before he could finish, a shuriken embedded with an explosive tag whizzed through the air.
The weapon sliced through the smoke with a sharp hiss, multiplying mid-flight into several copies. Renjiro’s Sharingan caught every movement as he flickered out of its trajectory.
"Boom!"
The ground erupted behind him in a deafening explosion, the force sending dirt and debris flying.
Mihara flinched at the blast, his nerves on edge. “Do you think we got him?” he asked, his voice tinged with excitement.
Kanai Kame, the leader of the group, shot him a glare.
'Why can’t he just keep quiet?' he thought with irritation.
Mihara’s kekkei genkai, which allowed him to obscure the presence of himself and his comrades, had been invaluable for this mission. But his talkative nature was quickly grating on Kanai’s patience.
“Focus,” Kanai snapped. “Stay alert. He’s not dead yet.”
As if on cue, Renjiro appeared a few meters away, his form materializing out of the smoke like a ghost. “Fine,” he said, his tone colder now. “I’ll admit it. I’m Renjiro. But how did you figure that out?”
Without waiting for an answer, Renjiro flung several shuriken and star-shaped kunai at the group.
The projectiles gleamed in the firelight before combusting mid-flight, erupting into fiery orbs that multiplied into hundreds. The air filled with the whistling sound of spinning blades as they descended upon the shinobi like a swarm of angry wasps.
The Kumo shinobi reacted quickly, dodging and weaving through the barrage. But Renjiro had anticipated their movements. With a sharp tug, he revealed the threads connected to the projectiles, controlling their trajectories with precision. The weapons curved mid-air, forcing the shinobi to scramble.
One of them, a younger fighter, wasn’t fast enough. He cried out as several blades found their mark, embedding themselves in his arms and legs.
Blood spattered onto the ground as he collapsed, writhing in pain. The others barely managed to escape unscathed, their breaths ragged from the effort.
“Formation!” Kanai barked. “Beware of his eyes!”
The remaining four moved in unison, splitting into different directions to surround Renjiro. They quickly began weaving hand signs, their chakra signatures flaring subtly. Renjiro’s Sharingan picked up the flow of their movements.
'Three jonin and two elite chunin?' he thought, his brow furrowing beneath the mask.
'I’m a bit disappointed.'
Whatever had been suppressing their presence earlier was no longer active, and he could sense their chakra clearly now.
Before he could act, a sudden pressure gripped his body. His muscles locked, and his limbs refused to respond. His eyes darted around, searching for the cause, but it was too late.
“Lightning Release: Thunder Prison!” the shinobi shouted in unison.
Yellow lightning crackled to life, arcs of electricity converging on Renjiro from all sides. The chakra-infused lightning struck him with a blinding flash, illuminating the forest in a dazzling display. The air sizzled with energy, and the sharp smell of ozone filled Renjiro’s nose.
“Shi—” Renjiro began, but the word was cut short as the lightning coursed through him.
His body convulsed violently, muscles seizing under the intense voltage. Sparks flew as the jutsu continued, creating a spectacle that lit up the night.
When the lightning finally subsided, Renjiro’s charred body crumpled to the ground. Smoke rose from his singed cloak, and the air was heavy with the smell of burnt fabric and flesh. The Kumo shinobi approached cautiously, their movements tense and deliberate.
Kanai’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene. 'This was too easy,' he thought, unease creeping into his mind. Renjiro was a known ANBU operative with a fearsome reputation. To defeat him so quickly felt… wrong.
“Was this some kind of genjutsu?” he wondered aloud. He destabilized his chakra, attempting to break free of any illusions, but nothing changed.
“Well, it seems like Koji-sama was wrong,” Mihara said, his tone smug. “He was just another average shi—”
Kanai silenced him with a sharp gesture. His instincts screamed that something was amiss. The air around them seemed heavier, the darkness more oppressive.
Suddenly, the world around them shifted. The vibrant colors of the flames and the forest faded, replaced by a muted greyscale. The night sky turned a deep, blood-red, casting an eerie glow over the landscape. The ground beneath their feet seemed to dissolve, and Kanai felt a sickening lurch as he realized he was no longer standing.
He and his comrades were suspended several meters above the ground, their arms and legs bound tightly to a wooden structure. They were crucified, their bodies immobilized by an invisible force. The oppressive silence was broken by the slow, deliberate sound of footsteps.
Renjiro appeared before them, unharmed and smirking. His Sharingan glowed ominously, the tomoe spinning in a slow, hypnotic dance. “Well,” he said, his voice low and mocking. “If you guys won’t talk, I can force you to.”
Kanai’s blood ran cold as he realized the truth. They were trapped—not in reality, but in the twisted world of a genjutsu. Renjiro’s genjutsu.
The real nightmare was just beginning.
