The intel was wrong.

The density of forces in this area was vastly different from what was reported. This was supposed to be our exfil path, with rotated ninja who were tired from the Kumo frontlines, which came here for lighter duty in order to rest and recover.

This wasn’t so. Not at all, instead we had tightened security which left us with ever tightening windows of opportunity to leave undetected, and we carried valuable intelligence taken directly from one of the field commands in the rear-guard of the Kumogakure forces. I had the bulk of it myself; sealed in a tattoo under my forearm guard, as I was the fastest of us should things come to worse.

And come to worse they did.

There was little time to react, really. One minute we were fine, waiting for the next rotation to pass so we could go further on unmolested, however, things quickly devolved as Murphy law decided we had to be its next victims. The next rotation had a sensor, and we, this squad, had a rookie; a rookie that still wasn’t the best at supressing his chakra signature.

/-/-/

I had little time to react before one of them pounced upon my location, swiftly tossing kunai unto the path his leap would take him, and bouncing back those that he had thrown at me with my Tanto.

He was dead before he touched the ground again. But that wasn’t the end, there was plenty of them still to fight, plenty of them that we had to get through before the next patrol came.

There were four of us, and eleven of them. A couple seem to have rather large presences, sign of high chakra reserves, so they must be ninjutsu specialists. Not good, those types could throw wide ninjutsu and decimate cover, which would blow our advantage to shreds in moments. I had to take them out.
“The dark haired jonin on the left and the blonde white male in the center are priority targets,” I muttered on the radio as I took cover behind the nearest trunk to avoid direct line of sight. They knew we were here, but if they can’t see you they can’t hit you, “scatter and take them down, move.”

And so I leaped to the left, into the shadow of another canopy, while the rest of the team followed along. I wasn’t the leader here; however, priority calls were always obeyed in ANBU.  It didn’t matter who called them, only that they were followed. If they weren’t, someone would always die, and in the middle of war, no one wanted to.

As if choreographed, we exploded into action; Monkey blasted out of a canopy to my three o’clock with a hail of shuriken thrown, rushing in a low stance towards his closest target. Horse blasted from my nine, up high and spitting fire into the centre of the enemy formation. The enemy scattered and Bird rushed towards priority target one, the dark haired, tall man who obviously lead this squad, and so I decided the other target would be my own.

 I snapped into action, with a Shunshin towards the blonde jonin in a high stance, Tanto in my hands, purposefully leaving an opening on my left side as bait for the seemingly hardened Shinobi. He ate the bait.

Civilians have a misconception about Shinobi battles. They believe it is this drawn out encounter where they give their all, spend all their chakra, and have witty banter in-between the trading of blows. There’s nothing further from the truth.

The simple things get you killed. Speaking gets you killed. The slightest distraction, the smallest mistake, and your throat will be slit, voice never to be heard again. He took a swing, and I dodged left, Tanto sweeping down with speed belying my build. I was lithe, and an experienced practitioner of Kenjutsu, and while I knew nothing of the skills of my opponent, it wouldn’t matter soon. A deep gash was left, and a groan escaped the man. I broke into his guard and attempted to ensure the kill with a broken neck, but his reaction was unexpected. You see, normally when someone scores a cut as deep as this, you would attempt to break off and flank, or if it isn’t possible, then disengage. However, what this man did was the complete opposite. He charged me.

A grunt escaped me; soft voice muffled by the mask on my face, the deer pattern was splattered by the blood which escaped the arm now pushing hard against my armour covered chest. The other hand held a kunai, which was swiftly moving towards my kidney, I acted fast, and my hand shot towards the wrist, fist knocking it away effectively before punching the man in the throat, a step forward, and my knee was being driven into his gut with the force of all my muscles. Proper form brings real strength; chakra enhancement makes it even more deadly. A rib or two fractured beneath my knee, the chest cavity giving in to the force that suddenly overwhelmed it, and the man managed a last ditch attempt to end me while my Tanto neared his throat.

Blood escaped my shoulder as a kunai was stuck into it, driven rather deep. The wound would not be fatal lest the weapon be poisoned, but this was Kumo. Poison was not common in their weaponry.
The blade found its mark, and the man’s life was no more.

“Monkey is down,” chirped the radio bead on my ear, as I moved towards the next target, only seconds after I first engaged the blond now dead a few paces behind me. Shinobi battles, and Shinobi deaths, were always quick.

“Proceed with caution,” I muttered, and traded blows with another man, this one holding a sword, I feinted left and proceeded with a upwards slash aimed for his chest, the man parried and I lashed out with my fist into his throat, unbalancing him and then slashed his chest horizontally, blood gushing out strongly as his stomach no longer held his innards. He jumped back, disengaging, and I threw a kunai his way while I dashed to the right, where another Kumo nin was engaged with Horse. Horse was a ninjutsu specialist, while her close combat prowess was respectable; she wasn’t as used to it as me. I promptly arrived, and the man now faced with two opponents didn’t last much longer.

Then there was a snarling woman accompanied by a broad, dark skinned man leaping upon me. Horse and I reacted fast, however they came from behind. I parried the woman as quickly and efficiently as I could, kunai coming uncomfortably close to my neck as her other hand held a piece of paper, possibly a paralyzing tag, and was fast approaching my injured shoulder.

Then the tag was upon me, and the woman was soon dead as my counter came through, her single-minded focus proving to be her undoing as the force threw her off and my Tanto stabbed her in the spine.

But it wasn’t a paralyzing tag.

My chakra coils were burning like no tomorrow.

I wasted no time in ripping it away, but the damage was done. Injured shoulder, fucked up chakra coils on my left arm? That meant no hand seals at all, and limited me to one armed Tanto stances, which wasn’t good for our current situation; however it was soon over, as the radio crackled anew, “All targets down,” came Horse’s voice, “We lost Bird and Monkey; disposing of bodies now.”

It was a sad outcome, but it was reality. This was how things were, and taken by surprise on three to one odds? Horse and I were lucky to have made it out alive. Those two did the bulk of the work in saving our lives. I made a mental note to visit the Memorial Stone when their names were added.

The disposing was done swiftly, and after I searched the downed Kumo shinobi as quickly as possible for Intel, we sealed the bodies into scrolls and took off like bats out of hell. We only had a few minutes before the next patrol came, and if we were lucky and quick enough, they might not even catch us.

Thankfully our luck held.

/-/-/-/

Hours later, we filtered into the closest outpost of allied forces. The priority was to locate a Yamanaka in order to relay the critical intel, and if not possible, then haul ass back onto the path to Konoha itself. After Horse left to do so, least injured of us, I proceeded to where I was told the resident medic was located.

“Sit there, Deer-san,” she said, and pointed at a rackety chair next to a supply cabinet, which I assumed held all kinds of medicines you would find in the front. I sat, and she proceeded to hover nearby; “Where?” she asked, knowing she wouldn’t get any details as to how. The mask entitled us to secrecy even towards medics, as our ops were to remain unknown, and any identifying injuries were taboo. I pointed towards my left shoulder, the one that had gotten stabbed, and then trailed my finger down the arm attached to it, knowing there would be something wrong with my coils.

She slowly approached, standard procedure with jumpy ANBU, and then performed a diagnosis, the glowing palm matching what I expected in colour and sensation. Had it not, the medic would have died swiftly, as the kunai tightly held in my right hand belied.

It took about thirty seconds, before she stepped back with a concerned frown in her face. Her pale blond hair did nothing to cover the slight creasing of her forehead as lines formed in an expression of deep thought, just what I fucking needed.

“Speak;” I croaked out, and she snapped to swiftly, the medic – Chunin, I absently noted, -- knowing it was best to just get it over with.

“Your coils have shrunk, from your elbow down… as if something was shrivelling them to die,” she seemed to regard it with caution; “Only fuuinjutsu can do something like that.” She punctuated, and I kept quiet. The reasons of injuries should never be admitted to.

However, we both knew that was what it was, and she noted that while there were no traces of anything that could worsen the situation, I would have to report this to my superiors and await further orders.

There was only one thing that happens when you report a debilitating injury to your superiors. My sister was going to be so pissed…

/-/-/-/

Horse had no luck in locating a Yamanaka clan member. Apparently, the guard shift had just rotated and the replacement was behind schedule, which meant either dead or otherwise occupied; conflicting orders sometimes happened, other times it was just the traces of an infiltrator that managed to get to us, confusing the orders in the chain and obfuscating details that could be critical. After all, the enemy only needed a few seconds to turn a battle into a slaughter, and if there is no guard for a long stretch of time… you can be sure there’s going to be a trap waiting.

War was hell.