Naruto : Blazing Legend

Chapter 25: Bloodied Greetings

The Forest of Death had already begun its harvest. Giant vipers thick as tree trunks hunted with predatory intelligence, their eyes gleaming with malevolent cunning. Black bears moved like shadows between the trees, their claws leaving deep gouges in bark as warnings to trespassers. Scorpions the size of small horses scuttled through underbrush, their stingers dripping with venom that could fell a jonin in seconds.

"This place is a nightmare," Wada Yu declared from his perch atop the massive wild boar they'd encountered. The beast stood three meters high and stretched six meters long, its tusks yellowed with age and stained with the blood of previous challengers who'd underestimated it.

The battle had lasted hours—man against beast in a contest of wills that left both bloodied and exhausted. Only Rei's intervention had ended the stalemate, though not through death as the boar had feared. Instead, Wada Yu had seen something in the creature's intelligent eyes, something that spoke of partnership rather than domination.

"The summoning contract," Wada Yu had insisted, his voice hoarse from exertion. "This one's special. I can feel it."

The ritual was simple but profound. Blood mixed with chakra, binding two souls across species lines. The boar—terrified of ending up as Rei's dinner—had submitted with surprising grace, recognizing the difference between a master who would use him and one who would stand beside him.

"Every beast in this forest carries the potential for evolution," Rei explained, watching the newly christened summon with interest. "Survive long enough, endure enough battles, and they transcend their animal nature. They become something more." He paused, studying the boar's eyes. "What will you call him?"

"Wild Boar Peppa," Rei suggested with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. The name carried memories of a simpler world, one where pink cartoon pigs brought joy instead of the harsh reality of survival that surrounded them now.

Hanazuki clasped her hands together in delight. "It's perfect! Wild Boar as the family name, Peppa as the given name. You have such a gift for naming, Rei!"

Wada Yu's protest died unspoken. He'd wanted something more martial—'Chariot' perhaps—but seeing his teammates' enthusiasm, he found himself nodding. "Wild Boar Peppa it is. Someday you'll lead your own clan, won't you, partner?"

The boar's grunt carried what might have been amusement or resignation.

As Hanazuki tended to Peppa's wounds with gentle efficiency, Wada Yu shared his chakra with his new partner. The process was intimate and draining, creating a bond that would strengthen with time and trust. In the distance, other creatures watched with intelligent eyes, perhaps wondering if they too might find partnership instead of predation in this hellish place.

By the second day, frustration had replaced their initial optimism. Four teams encountered, four teams defeated—and still no Earth scroll to complement their Heaven scroll. The forest seemed to mock their efforts, offering only more challenges and deeper dangers.

"We're running out of time," Hanazuki observed, worry creasing her young features. "The remaining teams will be the strongest, the most desperate. Each encounter will be deadlier than the last."

"And they'll be expecting us now," Wada Yu added grimly. "Word spreads fast in places like this. We're becoming famous."

Rei's expression darkened as he weighed their options. Shadow clones materialized around him—perfect duplicates that shared his memories and abilities. "Change of tactics. The clones scout ahead while we remain hidden. It's time to stop playing by the rules."

What he didn't say aloud was what his enhanced perception had already detected: they were being hunted by something far more dangerous than desperate genin teams.

In the monitoring station carved into an ancient tree, Orochimaru watched the unfolding drama with serpentine interest. His golden eyes tracked Rei's movements with the intensity of a predator studying prey. Reports had reached him about this particular Uchiha—unusual bloodline developments, tactical brilliance beyond his years, and most intriguingly, a moral flexibility that suggested potential for... cultivation.

"Fascinating," he murmured, noting how three teams had begun coordinating their approach. "Someone wants our young prodigy dead quite badly."

The truth crystallized when Rei's shadow clone dissolved, flooding him with urgent intelligence. "Two teams, possibly three. Five kilometers out, moving in coordinated patterns." His voice carried a new hardness that made his teammates exchange worried glances. "This isn't coincidence. We're being hunted."

Wada Yu's trap-setting took on desperate efficiency as he worked to create killing fields around their position. These weren't the careful snares of a chunin exam—these were designed to maim and kill without mercy.

"Northwest team first," Rei decided, his tactical mind calculating angles and probabilities. "We hit them before they can coordinate with the others." He paused, then created another shadow clone, this one bristling with explosive tags like a walking arsenal.

"You bastard," the clone protested, its voice carrying genuine distress. "Do you have any idea how this feels? The anticipation of being blown to pieces?"

"You're a clone," Rei replied coldly, though something in his eyes suggested the callousness didn't come as naturally as he pretended. "You don't truly die, and you can't truly suffer."

"Easy for you to say! You're not the one about to become a human bomb!"

"If I die, you cease to exist anyway. At least this way, your sacrifice means something."

The argument ended as all such arguments did—with grim acceptance and resigned determination. The clone departed, carrying death strapped to its chest like a grotesque birthday present.

One kilometer out, three figures waited in perfect formation. Two women, one man, all sharing the same dead-eyed expression that marked them as products of a particular kind of training. Their movements were economical, their positioning professional. These weren't genin playing at being ninja—these were killers wearing genin masks.

"Hi there!" the shadow clone called out cheerfully, hanging upside down from a branch with theatrical flourish. "Lovely day for a massacre, isn't it?"

The lead figure—a young man whose face bore the telltale signs of conditioning—allowed a flicker of satisfaction to cross his features. "Uchiha Rei."

"That's me! You seem excited to see me. Should I be flattered or concerned?"

"Neither," the Root operative replied with mechanical precision. "You should be dead."

The two female operatives moved with lethal grace, their approach calculated to maximize damage while minimizing their own exposure. Their training was evident in every step, every prepared strike designed to end lives efficiently.

"Well then," the shadow clone said with a grin that promised violence, "let me send my regards."

The explosion turned twenty meters of ancient forest into a crater of splintered wood and scorched earth. Twenty-three explosive tags detonating simultaneously created a light bright enough to blind and a sound that sent every living thing within kilometers fleeing in terror.

When the smoke cleared, only one figure remained standing—the male operative, thrown clear by the shockwave but alive through luck rather than skill. His teammates had simply ceased to exist, reduced to ash and memory in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

"Impressive survival instincts," Rei's voice drifted from the shadows, no longer carrying any trace of humor. "Though I have to wonder—was that genuine emotion I saw earlier, or just another mask?"

The operative struggled to his feet, his training warring with shock and grief. When he spoke, tears tracked down his dirt-stained cheeks. "Why? They were your fellow Konoha ninja. How could you murder them so casually?"

The performance was almost convincing. The anguish seemed real, the moral outrage properly positioned. For a moment, even Hanazuki looked uncertain, wondering if they'd made a terrible mistake.

But Rei had seen the tongue seals, recognized the movement patterns, understood the coordination that spoke of months of specialized training. "Touching performance," he said softly. "But wasted on the wrong audience."

The operative's escape attempt was textbook—substitution jutsu followed by immediate retreat, seeking distance and tactical advantage. It might have worked against a normal opponent. It failed against someone who'd spent months preparing for exactly this kind of encounter.

The Chidori's distinctive chirping filled the air like the song of a mechanical bird. Lightning chakra, concentrated and shaped into killing intent, punched through the flesh and bone. The operative's final expression was one of surprise rather than pain—the realization that his training, his preparation, his certainty of victory had all been insufficient.

"Root operatives," Rei explained to his teammates as he examined the corpse, lifting the tongue to reveal the curse seal that marked the dead man's allegiance. "Danzo's personal assassination squad. The fact that they're here, targeting me specifically..." He trailed off, implications hanging heavy in the air.

"Who's Danzo?" Hanazuki asked, though something in her voice suggested she already suspected the answer wouldn't be pleasant.

"A man who believes Konoha's future requires eliminating anyone who might threaten his vision of order," Rei replied grimly. "Including promising young shinobi who refuse to join his private army." He looked toward the trees where he knew more enemies waited. "This is just the beginning. They'll keep coming until one of us is dead."

What he didn't say—what he couldn't say without revealing too much—was how this connected to Hatake Sakumo's survival, to the delicate web of politics and revenge that governed their village's shadow wars. Some knowledge was too dangerous to share, even with trusted teammates.

In his monitoring station, Orochimaru's smile widened as he watched the young Uchiha dispatch trained killers with efficient brutality. This one had potential—the kind of potential that could be shaped, molded, perfected through proper guidance.

Perhaps it was time for a more personal introduction.

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