Nightfall.
Kurio Mari thrust a handful of firewood into the pit. The residual embers beneath the ash crawled along the edges of the dry branches, and within moments, the fire flared bright once more.
The image of the girl from earlier that day—extinguishing a fire with Ice Style—remained vivid in her mind.
"One day, I will kill every last Kekkei Genkai ninja. I swear it!"
Her brother had once pressed her weeping face into his chest, his pale blue eyes and her deep blue ones reflecting the same bone-deep hatred. He held power in the Anbu to provide the force; she united the civilian ninjas to suppress the bloodline clans. With the Mizukage's favor, one prosperous clan after another had crumbled beneath their hands.
Bloodline ninjas all deserved to die.
"Sister Mari."
A call suddenly drifted from the only tent in the clearing. The voice was clean and soft, as if the speaker was afraid of waking the others—a tone so tender it tugged at Mari's heartstrings.
"What is it?"
"I... I need to use the bathroom."
Wearing only thin undergarments and her blindfold, Hinami emerged from the tent, gripping the edge of the fabric cautiously, looking like a lost kitten searching for its mother.
"Careful. I'll take you."
Mari's face glowed with a wave of maternal affection. She hurried over to support Hinami's soft arm, guiding her toward the edge of the camp.
Lost in her perception of Hinami's "cuteness," Mari did not notice the girl's hand quietly sliding up toward her porcelain neck.
"Come, this way. Watch out, there's a sto—"
Flash!
A glint of white light.
While speaking, Mari suddenly felt a chill at her throat, as if a wet finger had gently stroked her skin. Confused, she reached up to touch it. Her palm came away wet and slick.
She looked down. Her hand was drenched in crimson.
"Hee... hooo..."
The sound of air whistling through a severed windpipe echoed. Mari trembled, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at the silver-haired girl standing before her, tilting her head slightly.
The delicate face was as cold as ice. From the small, soft hands hanging at the girl's sides, sharp white spikes had extended. Blood traveled down the slender bone blades, pooling into droplets at the tips.
She is...
Mari clutched her throat, trying to back away, but her legs gave out. With a dull thud, she collapsed to the ground.
"Ah! Sister Mari, what happened?!"
"What's going on? What's that sound?"
The three students scrambled out of their sleep, startled by the sound of the fall and Hinami's panicked cry. They had been light sleepers, drifting in a bored daze until the commotion began.
"Sister Mari, she..."
Hinami pointed into the distance. Mari lay on the ground, clutching her neck and struggling. The three froze for a split second before snapping into action.
"Sanma, protect Hinami! Karin, go save Sister Mari!" Arata shouted, making an instant decision.
Karin sprinted to Mari's side. Her palms glowed with the intense green light of the Mystical Palm Technique. "It's okay... it's going to be okay..."
Karin's lips trembled as she tried to plug the wound. Under the influence of the life-giving Yang release, the torrential bleeding began to slow.
"Hee... run... run..." Mari's face was deathly pale. Each word seemed to drain her of her soul.
"Don't talk, Sister Mari! Believe in me, I can heal this!"
Sizzle...
Something beneath Mari's collar began to burn fiercely. Puzzled, Karin pulled back the fabric.
Underneath, five explosive tags were burning rapidly. Mari's blue pupils shriveled to the size of pinheads. "Karin... get... away...!"
Karin's emerald eyes widened in horror.
BOOM!!!
Fire erupted toward the sky, turning the black night into noon for a fraction of a second. The shockwave tossed Sanma aside like a ragdoll. He scrambled up, staring in terror at the center of the explosion.
In the charred crater, only blackened fragments of flesh remained.
"Sister Mari... Karin... how..."
Stunned by the sight, Sanma's body shook as he backed away. Without even seeing an enemy, his teacher and his friend were gone.
"This can't be real! It's a genjutsu! Arata! Arata!"
Sanma turned around in a panic.
There stood the silver-haired girl, calmly pulling a bone blade from Arata's back. Blood slid down the edge, staining her snow-white sleeve. Arata turned his head, his eyes full of despair as he looked at the blind girl. Blood spilled from his lips, and he collapsed.
"Hi... Hinami? You? It's you! Why?!"
Hum!
Sanma's massive scythe swept out in a red-eyed fury.
"Because... I am too weak."
Snap!
With one hand, Hinami caught the curved edge of the massive blade. The vibrating steel ground against the dense bone of her palm, throwing off sparks. Looking at Sanma's hate-filled eyes, Hinami found herself at a loss for words.
Love? Hate? She felt neither.
Different positions lead to different paths. Her opponents had a tracking method, and with only Chūnin-level chakra, she couldn't survive a long-distance pursuit. Because she couldn't win a fair fight against the combined force of the squad and the approaching Anbu, she had to thin the ranks early.
It wasn't about emotion. It was the most efficient strategy for survival.
Perhaps the method was cruel. But—mercy is the luxury of the strong; cruelty is the claw of the weak.
Whoosh!
She tilted her head to dodge Sanma's desperate right hook. Leaning forward, she drove the blood-slicked bone blade into his chest.
Clang!
the giant scythe hit the ground. Sanma buckled over the blade, struggling for a moment before the agony and blood loss sapped his strength.
"Damn... monster... why didn't you... kill me first?"
"I'm sorry, Brother Sanma. As the Taijutsu specialist, you were the smallest threat."
Pschht!
She yanked the blade out, carving through his chest and abdomen in a spray of gore. Sanma twitched twice and went still.
The wind flickered the campfire, casting long, dancing shadows. Holding her bloodstained blade, Hinami turned her head toward the dense trees nearby.
Tap. Tap.
Two figures landed lightly in the clearing. Looking at the charred remains and the porcelain girl standing amidst the carnage, Kirigarasu scratched his head in annoyance.
"Looks like we're a step late."
"There were too many traps," Ketsuken added, staring at the dangerous girl. His hair stood up like steel needles, his body coiled in a defensive stance that made his muscles bulge. "I didn't want to alert them, so I took the long way around."
"They wouldn't have had to die," Hinami said, her bone blade dragging across the dirt, leaving a crimson trail. "But you arrived too early."
Looking at the familiar Anbu, Hinami was reminded of that blood-soaked night—the mist, the battlefield, and the boy who crawled like a dog. Everything was overlapping. She had come full circle, back to the slaughterhouse where she first woke up.
"Hinami Kaguya. That is my name."
"You don't plan on letting us go back alive, do you?" Kirigarasu asked.
Hinami's lips curled into a smirk, though her expression remained colder than a glacier. "If I let you two escape, Mari and the others would never rest in peace, would they?"
"Little lady," Kirigarasu said, slowly drawing a kunai as Ketsuken raised a long blade. "I was going to say the same thing. If we don't bring your head back, many more people won't be resting at all."
A sudden gale whipped through the forest, fanning the flames of the burning branches. In the firelight, three figures stood in opposition, the air thick with crimson mist and killing intent.