The forest breathed.

  Ken sat still, eyes tracing the treeline. The moonlight barely filtered through the branches, leaving half the clearing in shadow. His bde rested across his p. His fingers were rexed, but every part of him was awake.

  He didn’t hear them. He felt them.

  Something in the wind. A shift in birdsong. A weight behind the stillness.

  His hand closed around the sword hilt as Daen appeared beside him—silent, watchful.

  “You sense it too?” the jonin murmured.

  Ken gave a single nod. “Movement. West ridge. They’re waiting.”

  Daen exhaled through his nose. “You wake them. I’ll circle wide.”

  Ken rose without a word and slipped toward the tents.

  Reina woke quickly. Daisuke was harder—he grumbled, half-sat up, then froze at Ken’s whisper:

  “They’re coming.”

  That was all it took.

  In less than thirty seconds, their squad was armed, armored, and crouched behind the rgest overturned cart. Reina was weaving chakra into her hands. Daisuke tightened his forearm guards. Ken knelt at the cart’s edge, eyes scanning the shadows.

  The bandits didn’t attack like trained shinobi.

  They rushed like animals.

  From the woods, a dozen figures burst forward—some with clubs, others with rusted kunai and mismatched gear. No coordination. No caution.

  But they had numbers.

  Daisuke moved first, leaping out with a war cry, fists already flying. He struck the first bandit square in the jaw, dropping him instantly. The next two hesitated, but not long.

  Ken didn’t join him immediately. He waited.

  Watched.

  There—one bandit hanging back. Not rushing. Giving hand signals.

  Their leader?

  “Reina!” Ken called. “Smoke them!”

  She didn’t ask. She dropped a smokescreen tag behind Daisuke, covering his retreat. The clearing filled with gray mist.

  Ken vanished.

  He moved like water—low, silent, clean.

  He slipped behind the lead bandit, sword drawn, and swept the man’s legs out from under him. Before the man could cry out, Ken drove the hilt into his throat. One down.

  The second turned—saw him.

  Too slow.

  Ken flickered.

  His wooden bde struck the man’s temple, then cracked across his jaw. The man went limp before he hit the dirt.

  “Ken!” Reina’s voice cut through. “Daisuke’s surrounded!”

  Ken pivoted and saw it—four bandits circling Daisuke through the edge of the smoke. He was holding them off, but barely.

  Ken didn’t think. He moved.

  His body surged forward. The wind around him bent.

  But halfway there—he stopped.

  His foot sank into the earth. A trap.

  The moment froze.

  The leaves around him shifted.

  Ken’s eyes snapped wide.

  And in that second—

  the Sharingan returned.

  The world sharpened.

  The trap was shallow—triggered by a branch tucked under leaf cover. Two more chakra signatures fnked him—one behind a boulder, the other to the left, armed with a throwing spear.

  Ken didn’t dodge.

  He predicted.

  He twisted, sshed the trap cord mid-flicker, then pivoted right and smmed his foot into the boulder’s base. The man behind it cried out as the stone cracked and tipped.

  Ken struck once with the ft of his bde.

  Two more fell.

  He kept moving.

  The smoke was clearing now.

  Reina stood behind a fallen cart, panting, blood on her shoulder. Her hand glowed faintly as she held pressure on the wound.

  Daisuke knelt nearby, bruised but grinning. Three unconscious bodies were scattered around him.

  Ken stepped out of the fog, sword in hand, eyes glowing red.

  Reina froze.

  “Your eyes—” she whispered.

  Ken didn’t answer.

  He pointed toward the north ridge.

  “One left. The real leader. Still watching.”

  Daen’s voice came from the trees. “Then let’s flush him.”

  The man tried to run.

  He made it halfway to the tree line before Ken blurred into his path.

  The bandit froze. His breath came in ragged gasps. He looked into Ken’s eyes—into the twin red tomoe swirling in silence—and dropped his weapon.

  Ken didn’t speak.

  Daen arrived a moment ter and drove the man unconscious with a clean strike to the temple.

  “Nice call,” he said.

  Ken nodded once. “He didn’t belong with the others.”

  “No. He didn’t.” Daen looked toward the horizon, where the sun was beginning to rise. “That was more than we bargained for.”

  They burned the bandits’ supplies. Bound the survivors. Marked the area with ANBU tags and carried the injured back.

  The walk home was long.

  No one talked.

  Reina’s wound was stable, but the blood on her uniform dried into the fabric. Daisuke walked slower than usual. He didn’t grin. Just stared at the path ahead.

  Ken walked behind them, sword sheathed, eyes lowered.

  He wasn’t shaken.

  He was... changed.

  They reached the vilge gate by noon. Medical staff took Reina immediately. Daisuke followed in silence.

  Ken stayed behind.

  Daen lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly. “You handled it well.”

  Ken looked up. “Reina got hurt.”

  “Everyone does. First real fight’s always ugly.” Daen gnced sideways. “But you didn’t freeze. You led.”

  Ken didn’t answer.

  Daen watched him carefully. “Your eyes came back.”

  Ken nodded.

  “You understand what that means, right? What the cn will do with that information?”

  Ken’s jaw tightened. “They’ll try to shape it into something it’s not.”

  Daen studied him.

  Then said quietly, “Don’t let them.”

  He dropped his cigarette and crushed it underfoot.

  “Go home. Get clean. You’ve earned the night.”

  Ken didn’t go home.

  He sat alone at the edge of the river behind the training grounds, stripped of armor, watching the water move.

  His Sharingan had returned. Not in rage. Not in desperation.

  In crity.

  It had come when he’d accepted the fight—not as a test, not as a mission—but as real.

  Blood. Death. Consequence.

  The battlefield didn’t care who you were. It only cared what you did when it mattered.

  And when the smoke cleared, his teammates had lived.

  That was enough.

  Back in the Hokage Tower, Daen stood before Sarutobi again.

  He dropped another scroll on the desk.

  “C-rank, cleared. Minimal injury. Two confirmed kills. Three captures. Squad performed.”

  Sarutobi opened it, read in silence.

  Then: “And Ken?”

  Daen hesitated.

  “He sees through people like they’re maps. He moved before I gave orders. Predicted the ambush before I sensed it.”

  Sarutobi nodded. “Sharingan?”

  “Activated. Stable. No signs of chakra burnout.”

  The Hokage leaned back in his chair.

  “He’ll make enemies. You know that.”

  “I know,” Daen said.

  “Will you protect him?”

  Daen smiled, just a little.

  “No. I’ll teach him how to protect himself.”