Naruto : Infinite Buff

The rain was relentless, as always. It lashed down from the heavy skies, soaking everything in its path. The camp, a temporary outpost on the outskirts of the forest, was shrouded in mist. The usual sound of rain hitting metal, stone, and the occasional whispered conversation was oddly absent. The shinobi stationed there, all hardened soldiers used to the constant drizzle of the Hidden Rain, had become eerily quiet.

They were alert, nervous, as if something was amiss. The patrols had returned with little to report, but the unease was palpable. No one spoke of it directly, but everyone knew. Something was wrong.

It was the elite orphan who had been sent to track down Amatsu—the deadly shadow in the forest, the ghost who had turned their once-proud squad of orphans into a bloodbath. Joji and Ryojin had given the order. Simple enough: lure Amatsu in, and when he did, they would capture him and kill him. It was the perfect plan—if they could get him to fall for it.

But the Kid's return was far from what they expected.

The boy stumbled in front of the camp, dragging his feet as though each step took more strength than he had left. His clothes were soaked, torn in places where jagged branches had caught him. His face, once youthful and full of promise, was now drawn and haggard, streaked with dirt and blood. His eyes were empty, a hollow reflection of the terror he'd witnessed.

He collapsed to his knees before the commander's tent, gasping for breath, the weight of the forest's horrors still pressing on him. His hands shook uncontrollably, and his voice was nothing more than a rasp when he tried to speak.

"We were never the hunters," the Kid whispered, his voice barely a breath against the wind. "We were never even the prey. We were nothing but... corpses waiting to be claimed."

The words were enough to freeze the air. The ninja who had been milling about paused, the unease palpable in their quickened breath. The Kid's words hung in the air like the mist that still clung to the ground. No one dared to move.

Joji, the strategist Jonin, and Ryojin, the ruthless and battle-hungry fighter, appeared moments later. Their presence alone seemed to command the camp's attention. Joji's eyes flicked over the Kid's broken form, his calculating mind working as he assessed the situation. Fear poured off the boy, evident in the shaky breaths he took, but it was Ryojin who spoke first.

His voice was smooth, like an icy blade slicing through the air, but there was an undercurrent of growing irritation.

"yo, what the hell happened?" Ryojin's words were almost casual, yet the force behind them made the boy shrink back. His cold gaze pinned the Kid to the ground, making it clear that this wasn't a conversation, it was an interrogation. "Don't tell me you ran from one guy."

The kid opened his mouth, but all that came out was a choked sob. Ryojin's frustration deepened. His eyes flashed a cruel gleam, and he took a slow step closer, his towering frame casting an even darker shadow over the boy.

Joji raised a hand, a subtle signal for Ryojin to hold back, but the bloodlust emanating from him was palpable. Joji then spoke, his tone calm but sharp, a stark contrast to Ryojin's fiery edge.

"Explain. What happened to the rest of your squad? Where's that guy?"

The Kid's head snapped up, his eyes wide with a terror that had no place on a soldier's face. He opened his mouth, but no sound came. His hands gripped the dirt beneath him like he was trying to hold onto something, anything, to stay anchored to reality.

"I... I couldn't fight him," the Kid gasped, his voice breaking as panic clawed at his throat. His eyes were wide, unblinking, as if the horrors of what he had witnessed were playing out in front of him again, even in the safety of the camp. He wiped a trembling hand across his forehead, but the sweat wasn't from the humidity. It was pure fear—raw, unrelenting fear.

"We… we weren't even fighting," he continued, his words tumbling out in a frenzy. His body shuddered as he spoke, unable to control the tremor in his hands. "We were running. Running for our lives. And then—" His breath hitched, his voice faltering as though the memory itself was choking him. His face twisted with agony as if reliving the nightmare, his fingers gripping the ground as though to hold onto reality. "Then we… we died. All of us... every single one."

The words tumbled from him like a confession, each syllable heavy with the weight of terror. His eyes darted, unseeing, as if Amatsu were standing right in front of him. His body jerked at every sound, his chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths.

"His eyes... His eyes were like dead. darkkk," the Kid muttered, almost to himself, his voice cracking under the weight of the memory. "He wasn't... he wasn't human. He... He was something else. Something inhuman. I saw him everywhere. Every corner. Every shadow. I couldn't escape. He was always watching. Waiting."

The Kid's hands shook violently as he curled them into fists, digging his nails into the dirt as though it were the only thing anchoring him to the present. His voice was hoarse now, his words coming in fits of panic as his mind seemed to slip further into the past.

"We tried to fight. We... we tried to fight him, but it was like he was everywhere. And then..." He paused, swallowing hard, his throat closing as if the memory was too much to speak. His eyes glazed over, as though trapped in the nightmare that had never stopped.

"Then he killed them," the Kid whispered, his lips trembling. "He killed them without even trying. One by one. I... I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything." His voice cracked again, and a strangled sob escaped him. "He wasn't even... there. But he was. He... he was."

The kid keep repeating the words traumatic.

Joji's expression darkened, but Ryojin's lips curled into a thin smile, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous amusement.

"You're saying you let him kill you all?" Ryojin's tone was low, dangerous. "You sound like a fool."

The Kid flinched at the words, his body trembling as he tried to stand, but his legs gave way. He collapsed again, his hands covering his face as if to shield himself from the invisible specter that haunted him. "I wasn't... strong enough," he whispered, barely audible. "We were... just the prey. It wasn't a fight... It was... an execution."

The Kid's eyes flickered toward the forest, his mind still trapped in the nightmare. His mouth opened to speak again, but his words died in his throat. A distant crack in the trees, barely perceptible, sent a shiver down his spine.

"He's watching," the Kid mumbled. "He's waiting. I can feel it."

Ryojin ignored him, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Joji. "So, what now?"

Joji stood up, his expression unreadable. He didn't answer right away, his eyes scanning the camp as if weighing options. Then, without warning, he turned back to the Kid, who had now curled into a fetal position, shivering despite the heat of the day.

"Take him to the medic," Joji ordered, his voice a command.

"But—" the Kid began, but was cut off by Joji's harsh glare.

"You're of no use here, and neither are your words. Heal up."

The Kid was dragged away by two ninja, but Joji and Ryojin remained behind. The air was thick with unspoken tension.

"We need a new plan," Joji said, his voice calm but carrying a weight of finality. "If we can't lure him out, we'll have to go to him ourselves."

Ryojin grinned, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "Good. I was getting bored waiting."

Joji's gaze hardened as he stared out into the endless rain. "Then we'll make sure this ends,

 one way or another."

---

Amatsu had been watching. Always watching.

He had known the moment the Kid had entered the forest. He had known the trap had been set. He had known that the moment they thought they had him, they were already lost.

It wasn't a fight. It wasn't a battle. It was never meant to be. It was an execution. And they were the condemned.

From his perch in the branches above, Amatsu's eyes gleamed with silent amusement as he observed the chaos left in his wake. He had already moved on, stepping further into the depths of the forest where even the shadows seemed to shift under his command. The mist was his ally, his cloak, his weapon.

The goals had been clear: reduce the forces sent to stop him.

And soon, Joji and Ryojin would learn that.

They would never be the hunters.

They were the next prey.

---

The Kid's words echoed in Joji's mind: We were never the hunters. We were nothing but corpses waiting to be claimed.