Naruto rebirth! Born again with a system.

Chapter 23: First Blood and Hard Truths

The morning sun filtered through the canopy of the dense forest, casting golden mosaics over the winding road that carved its way through Stone River Valley. The air was thick with the scent of damp leaves and the faint, ever-present tension that clung to every member of Team 15. The merchant convoy creaked steadily forward, the clatter of wheels and the rhythmic clop of horses' hooves forming a deceptively calm cadence that belied the growing unease beneath it all.

Kōzaru paced alongside the left flank of the convoy, his movements fluid but alert. Yuki and Riku padded just ahead, their normally playful barks replaced by low, cautious growls. Their noses twitched and ears perked, catching scents and shifts in the breeze that their human counterpart could not. Kōzaru's hand hovered near his weapons pouch, his heart a steady drumbeat of wariness.

On the right, Tatsuma scanned the forest line, his fingers twitching around the hilt of a kunai. "Two hours without trouble," he murmured, almost hopeful.

Aotaka, bringing up the rear, didn't even turn his head. "Doesn't mean we're safe. Stone-nin don't strike when it's easy. They wait until it hurts."

"Trust your instincts, not your comfort," Shibi called softly from the lead position. His tone was measured, but firm.

The words helped—slightly. The air was charged, taut like a tripwire, but hour after hour passed with no sign of ambush. Birds sang. Trees whispered in the breeze. Wheels rolled. Time dragged.

But by the third hour, their alertness began to dull. Muscles cramped. Nerves frayed. The constant pressure of anticipation was exhausting, and it wore them down in quiet, dangerous ways.

Then Yuki froze.

The pup's ears flattened, her body stiff. Riku mirrored her, letting out a soft, guttural growl.

Kōzaru dropped into a crouch instantly, his instincts flaring like a match to tinder. He scanned the trees.

"Movement. Fifty meters northeast. Two signatures. They're tracking us."

Tatsuma immediately unslung a kunai. Aotaka tensed beside him, fingers tightening around the grip of his blade. Their stances sharpened, but their eyes betrayed their unease. No more drills. No more theory. This was real.

Shibi didn't flinch. "Confirmed. Two shinobi. Stone. Watching."

At the front of the convoy, Yamamoto, the merchant leader, paled visibly. "Are we under attack?"

"Possibly," Shibi said, his voice flat. "We continue. Hold formation."

Every step forward after that was heavier than the last. The forest no longer looked like trees and sunlight—it looked like cover and kill zones. A place for ambushes, for blood.

For several tense moments, the convoy continued its journey with all parties acutely aware of the deadly game of patience being played in the forest around them. The Stone scouts maintained their parallel course, neither approaching nor withdrawing, their presence a constant threat that kept everyone's nerves stretched to the breaking point.

Suddenly, Yuki gave a soft whine as she got another scent, alerting Kōzaru.

"They're moving!" Kōzaru shouted. "Coming in fast!"

Chaos erupted.

Two shinobi exploded from the brush, their approach silent until the last heartbeat. There was no shouting, no dramatic declarations—just steel and speed and murderous intent. These were killers. Not classmates. Not instructors. Real shinobi.

"Protect the convoy!" Shibi ordered.

The first attacker came straight for Kōzaru. His blade flashed in the dappled light, low and fast. Kōzaru twisted instinctively, the poisoned edge kissing his jacket as it passed. He hit the ground and rolled, hands clawing at the earth.

No time for jutsu. No time for planning. Just raw survival.

Yuki lunged at the attacker's leg and Riku snapped at his arm. The enemy struck Riku away with a savage kick that sent the pup tumbling, causing Kōzaru to see red.

He leapt, clawed hands slashing across the attacker's chest. It connected—barely. A shallow wound. Nothing fatal.

He didn't feel like a ninja. He felt like a cornered animal, one facing a much more dangerous foe.

Tatsuma, several meters away, flinched as shuriken zipped past his head. He fumbled a hand sign and managed to summon a single clone, which took a hit before he could even command it.

Another. Another. Each clone flickered and died, reflecting his own indecision. His hands were slick with sweat. His breath shallow. He was falling apart.

Aotaka met his own attacker with blade drawn. He deflected a strike, then another, but each movement was too slow, too deliberate. He wasn't aiming to kill. He wasn't even aiming to win—just to survive.

He thought about his chakra. About the sword style he had practiced. But it felt far away now, like a dream he couldn't touch as he failed to concentrate his charka through his blade.

And then—

Shibi moved.

He didn't shout. He didn't announce. One moment he was beside the convoy, the next he was behind the enemy.

A single strike to the back of the head. The attacker crumpled.

The second shinobi turned to flee. He managed two steps before a cloud of kikaichū—Shibi's chakra-draining insects—engulfed him. He screamed once, then fell silent, his body twitching as his chakra was devoured in seconds.

It was over in less than thirty seconds.

The forest stilled.

Team 15 stood in stunned silence, blood pounding in their ears, hearts still racing. None of them had landed a decisive blow. None of them had killed anyone or done anything for that matter.

"Stand down," Shibi commanded.

They obeyed numbly, weapons still raised as if expecting another strike.

Kōzaru fell to his knees, cradling Riku and checking him over with trembling hands. The pup whimpered, licking his cheek. Yuki stayed close, her gaze never leaving the fallen enemies.

Tatsuma knelt, staring at his kunai like it was a stranger's weapon. "We couldn't... we didn't do anything."

Aotaka didn't speak. He just looked at his blade. At his shaking hands. At the corpses that lay on the ground before them.

Shibi surveyed the battlefield. "You survived. Barely. But yes—you froze. You hesitated. And that hesitation could've killed you."

No one argued.

"You've been trained to fight," Shibi continued. "But you weren't prepared to kill. That's not your fault. The academy teaches you techniques, not blood."

He stepped closer, his voice harder now. "This is the first time you've truly faced death. It will not be the last. You need to decide what kind of shinobi you're going to be." He said as he turned his back on them for a second to scan the area.

Aotaka clenched his jaw. "He was going to kill me. I saw it in his eyes. I still couldn't bring myself to strike..." He said as he tried to stop his hands from shaking.

"And next time, if I'm not there," Shibi said, "you'll be the one lying in the dirt."

They stood in silence, the enemy corpses a grim reminder.

"You can turn back. Quit now. Give up your headbands. No shame in it," Shibi added. "But if you continue down this road, understand what it means. You will kill. Or you will killed."

The words struck like cold steel.

Kōzaru looked at Riku, then at Yuki. They hadn't hesitated. They'd fought to protect him. Could he do any less for them?

He stood slowly. "I won't let them down. I won't run."

Tatsuma's eyes locked on his teammates. "We protect each other. We fight, or we fall. Together."

Aotaka sheathed his sword with a shaky breath. "I don't want to hesitate again. I need to be ready next time."

Shibi nodded once. No praise. Just acknowledgment.

"Then we move. These two were scouts. If they don't report in, reinforcements will follow. We reach the outpost before nightfall."

Team 15 reformed around the convoy. This time, no one talked. No one joked. They walked with eyes open and weapons ready.

Their first fight hadn't been a triumph.

It had been a lesson—bloody, brutal, and necessary.

And they would not forget it.

The road ahead would demand more than jutsu and teamwork. It would demand their conviction.

Today, they had taken their first step into what it truly meant to be a shinobi.

And there was no turning back.