Having successfully completed the escort mission, Itoshiki and his team arrived at the forward camp. The difference in atmosphere hit them immediately—where the rear camp still carried traces of calm, the forward base throbbed with urgency. Shinobi moved with clipped precision, faces grim, voices low. There was no mistaking it: this was where decisions met death.
In the command tent at the center of the camp, Orochimaru stood waiting. He barely glanced up from the map he held, one finger tracing the enemy's supply lines with unnerving gentleness.
"You've done well," he said eventually, a slow smile creeping onto his pale face. "A Jonin eliminated, a critical map secured... More than what was asked for. Consider this an A-rank mission completed."
His gaze drifted across the four who stood before him, like a predator examining prey, before stopping on Nara Mieko.
"Nara Chunin," he said, his tone unreadable. "Your merits qualify you for promotion. Collect your Jonin gear later. I'll report the promotion to the Hokage."
Mieko bowed deeply. Nothing more was needed.
Next, Orochimaru turned to Yamanaka Yuuta. "Yamanaka Jonin."
"Yes, Lord Orochimaru."
"You'll lead Nara Jonin and Akimichi Jonin, with six patrol squads under your command. Sweep the rear sectors. Eliminate any infiltrators. The supply line must remain intact."
Yuuta nodded without hesitation, took the transfer order, and left with the others.
Only Itoshiki remained.
Orochimaru turned to face him fully now. His thin lips curled, and something unsettling flickered behind his golden eyes. "And you… Itoshiki-kun."
Itoshiki tensed slightly. He had stayed quiet, calculating, inoffensive. So why did it feel like the trap had just been sprung?
"A difficult case," Orochimaru mused aloud, mock-sighing. "What sort of mission should I give you? A real headache..."
Itoshiki maintained a neutral expression, though his thoughts spiraled. I have no reason to be on his radar. Unless…
He bowed slightly, voice calm. "Chunin Itoshiki awaits your orders, Lord Orochimaru."
"Hmph." Orochimaru chuckled, the sound thin and dry. "Tsunade thinks too highly of you. But a Chunin has no place at her side."
A pause. Then, slowly:
"Do you want to become a Jonin, Itoshiki-kun?"
Itoshiki didn't answer right away. He understood the implication.
"Bring me the head of an enemy Jonin. From now on, you'll act alone. Prove your value."
So it's about Tsunade… Itoshiki inwardly sighed. How foolish. To think even Orochimaru measures worth by proximity to another.
But he wouldn't argue. He wouldn't protest. He would answer, as always, with action.
"If that is what's required," Itoshiki said quietly, "then I will bring back the head of a Jonin."
Almost as if in response to his resolve, the system activated in his mind with a cold chime.
[Limited-Time Mission: Free Hunt]
Mission Objective: Your ambitions are bound by your rank, and your presence near Konoha's treasures is drawing attention. You must prove yourself with blood.
Target: Eliminate one enemy Jonin.
Reward: Random A-Rank Ninjutsu, Thin Senju Bloodline
Deadline: 1 Month
Difficulty: A-Rank
Thus began Itoshiki's solitary mission.
No longer part of a team, he slipped into the battlefield's shadowy veins like a thread pulled loose. Alone, he moved through smoke and ruin, through the scent of scorched earth and spilled chakra.
His senses, ever sharp, had grown keener still. He could feel chakra fluctuations in a hundred-meter radius—a passive awareness that filtered noise from threat, friend from foe.
He paused.
Northwest. Three signatures. Approaching quickly. High-speed movement.
His eyes narrowed. A whisper of wind, a shift in stance—
And he was gone.
A few seconds later, Itoshiki emerged within a dense forest, the canopy above casting dappled shadows on the mossy ground. Ahead, three Rain Village shinobi crept cautiously through the underbrush.
"Stay sharp. We're deep in Konoha territory—Konoha patrols could appear at any moment," one whispered.
"What's there to fear?" another scoffed. "We're elites of the Rain Village. Konoha's forces are nothing more than defeated dogs after what our leader did to them."
"Exactly. This mission is just a reminder—a lesson in pain. Konoha needs to remember who they're dealing with."
They advanced, unaware that death had already arrived.
Itoshiki watched them coldly from the treetops, his presence hidden, his chakra flow suppressed to a whisper. So loud for assassins. Overconfidence and incompetence always go hand-in-hand.
"Rain shinobi, hmm?" he muttered under his breath. "You'll do… for warm-up."
Without warning, his figure blurred—launched from the trees like a silent predator.
"Who's there?!"
Too late.
"Konoha Style: Iron Fist."
His voice was low, controlled—just as his chakra burst into his strike. His right fist surged forward, slicing through the air with a high-pitched screech, raw chakra compressing into brute force.
Bang!
The first Rain Chunin never saw it coming. The punch landed squarely in his chest, and his body shot backwards like a cannonball, smashing into a tree trunk with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed from his mouth before he collapsed, lifeless.
"Nani?!"
The other two were frozen in shock. In the span of a breath, their comrade was dead.
"Too fast!" one of them shrieked, panic flaring in his eyes.
"We can't take him! Run!" the other shouted, already turning to flee.
But Itoshiki gave them no quarter.
"Fire Style: Fire Dragon Flame Bullet."
In one fluid motion, he formed hand seals, chakra spiraling through his core. With a deep breath, he unleashed a massive torrent of flame. A dragon-shaped inferno burst from his mouth, roaring through the forest toward the fleeing shinobi.
Their screams were swallowed by fire.
In moments, only scorched earth remained.
Silence returned. The entire engagement had lasted under ten seconds.
Three Rain Village Chunin—wiped out as easily as cutting down weeds.
"Disappointing," Itoshiki murmured, brushing ash from his sleeve. "Is this the best the Rain can offer?"
But it wasn't arrogance that colored his words—it was clarity. His recent training had pushed him beyond the limits of a typical Chunin. His mastery of Super Strength Taijutsu, paired with refined elemental ninjutsu, had placed him firmly in Jonin territory. He simply didn't carry the title.
Not yet.
I've outgrown these battles. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. What I need… is something real.
His eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Next… the Rain Village Jonin."
A flick of his tongue wet his lips as the thrill of the hunt sparked in his blood. The battlefield was wide. And the reaper had only just begun his harvest.
In the days that followed, Itoshiki moved like a shadow laced with steel—unstoppable, emotionless, efficient. Wherever he walked, Rain shinobi fell in silence. A silent war within the war, waged by one man.
The "Free Hunt" had begun.
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