Torifu signaled for them to begin the operation, but Hoshiyomi didn't charge in recklessly. He held back the eager Sakumo and turned to the hesitant Shinku Yūhi.
"I'll take point with Sakumo. You stay hidden here and don't move. If we get overwhelmed, use genjutsu or throwing tools to distract them. Keep your seals quiet—most of these thugs won't even notice."
Still struggling with the trauma of his last mission, Shinku felt a wave of relief wash over him. This was exactly what he had hoped for. First, he wasn't skilled in close combat. Second, he was still fearful of fighting—something no quick pep talk could fix. But he didn't want to seem weak in front of his new teammates, which had left him torn.
Now that Hoshiyomi had given him a role he could handle, he relaxed.
Then Hoshiyomi turned to Sakumo. "They've got numbers on their side. When we go in, don't get carried away. Most of them are just civilians, but if they surround us, it'll still be trouble. Stay close to me."
Sakumo, who'd been on the verge of rushing in, calmed down. He exchanged a look with Hoshiyomi, and the two silently drew their blades and surged forward.
This was the first time Hoshiyomi had drawn Mikazuki Munechika in battle. The thought alone filled him with anticipation.
The two boys gripped their weapons tightly and burst from the treeline like leopards on the hunt, heading straight for the nearest two bandits.
The sudden ambush caught the bandits completely off guard. Before they could react, the two targets were already dead.
Their movements were fluid—dash, strike, execute. Their blades swept clean across two exposed necks. The bandits didn't even get a glimpse of their attackers before they dropped lifeless to the ground.
The others froze in shock. Two of their comrades had been killed—by what looked like a pair of children. Their movements were so swift, so effortless… as if it had been easier than killing chickens.
The camp immediately descended into chaos. Some shouted orders, others scrambled to draw weapons, and a few screamed and ran the moment they noticed the Leaf headbands on their attackers.
But Hoshiyomi didn't give them the time to regroup.
With Mikazuki Munechika in hand, he dove headfirst into the disorganized crowd. His refined physique, paired with the razor-sharp heirloom blade of the Gekkō Clan, made him utterly unstoppable.
Anyone who tried to run was cut down in an instant. Those who fought back had their weapons shattered, their defenses sliced through as if they weren't even there.
It was a one-sided massacre.
This blade really lives up to its name, Hoshiyomi thought, cleaving through an axe and its wielder in a single stroke. No wonder it's our clan's treasured heirloom.
A mere flick of the wrist was enough to slice through poorly-forged iron and bone alike. With each swing, more bodies dropped.
In just a few heartbeats, Hoshiyomi and Sakumo had already slain over a dozen.
But these weren't ordinary villagers—they were seasoned killers who'd long grown used to living with blood on their hands. After a moment of panic, several sub-leaders managed to regain order.
When they saw their attackers were just children, rage replaced fear.
"They're just a couple of brats! I don't care if they're ninja—let's carve them up!"
"Kill them! Avenge our brothers!"
A mob of bandits surrounded them. Crude weapons raised, they closed in from all sides.
Hoshiyomi and Sakumo didn't panic. Instead of trying to break out, they shifted into formation, slowly backing toward each other until they stood back-to-back. Just this one action calmed their nerves—they could trust each other to watch their blind spots.
They shared a glance and came to a wordless understanding.
Rather than retreat toward their sensei, they charged forward—into the thickest part of the enemy ranks.
This time, they infused chakra into their blades. Their strength surged, and with weapons already sharp enough to cut steel, they turned into walking storms of death.
Any stragglers who got past them were quietly dealt with by Shinku, who used throwing knives and genjutsu to support from afar.
White Fang and Mikazuki Munechika became twin reapers, carving bloody arcs through the mob. The slaughter broke whatever morale the bandits had left.
This wasn't a massive bandit army—they barely numbered 80 or 90. Almost all were civilians. A handful could muster a flicker of chakra, but not enough to perform any ninjutsu—barely worthy of being called shinobi.
With their numbers halved in just minutes, panic began to rise again.
"Where the hell is the boss? Why hasn't he shown up yet? If he doesn't come out now, we're all dead!"
"You don't think… he ran off, do you? Left us here to die while he slipped away to enjoy the spoils?"
The whispering spread like wildfire. The fragile formation began to crack again.
Just as the mob started to collapse, a sudden shout echoed from behind:
"Hoshiyomi—help me!"
Hoshiyomi turned at the cry and saw Shinku suspended in the air, hair clenched tightly in the hand of a scar-faced man. A kunai gleamed at Shinku's throat, drawing a thin line of blood.
Shinku had made a mistake. Concerned that Hoshiyomi and Sakumo were surrounded, he had stepped out of cover to help—revealing his position in the process.
The scar-faced man, the bandit leader, had been circling the outskirts of the battle, searching for the third shinobi. He waited patiently for his moment, and when Shinku exposed himself, he struck without hesitation.
Now he had leverage.
He held Shinku up and shouted to the others:
"So this squad did have a third member, huh? Listen up, you little punks! If you want your friend to live, drop your weapons. Otherwise…"
He pressed the kunai a little deeper, drawing another thread of blood from Shinku's neck.