Chapter 7: Shadows Leave No Footprints
Dawn crept over the battlefield, casting a dull glow over the camp of Iwa shinobi. But there was no relief, no morning drills, no preparation for the next skirmish—only silence. A heavy, suffocating silence.
The bodies of the fallen lay where they had collapsed, their faces frozen in expressions of confusion rather than pain. No wounds, no struggle, no signs of an enemy attack. They had simply… stopped living.
The survivors huddled together, whispering amongst themselves.
"It wasn't a jutsu," one muttered.
"Then what killed them?" another demanded, voice unsteady.
No one had an answer.
From a distant ridge, Hikaru observed it all through a high-powered telescope. He took in every detail—the twitch of fear in the shinobi's movements, the way even seasoned warriors refused to approach the dead without hesitation.
Good. Let them fear what they cannot see.
Beside him, his masked operative kneeled, awaiting further instructions. "The toxin worked flawlessly," the operative reported. "No traces, no survivors to tell what happened."
Hikaru didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the chaos below. Shinobi were trained to fight enemies they could see, foes they could predict. But this? This was beyond their understanding. He had turned their own battlefield into a death trap, one they couldn't counter.
Finally, he spoke. "Their fear is only beginning."
The wind howled across the ridge, carrying with it the distant shouts of Iwa commanders struggling to regain control. Orders were issued, scouting teams dispatched, yet no one dared to move too quickly. The soldiers hesitated at every step, wary that whatever unseen force had killed their comrades might strike again.
Hikaru leaned back slightly, exhaling.
The enemy does not need to be defeated in battle. Sometimes, all it takes is a whisper of death to break them.
The masked operative shifted slightly. "What are your next orders?"
Hikaru glanced at the map stretched out on the ground before him. The Iwa supply lines were crippled, their forces rattled. But he didn't want to wipe them out just yet. No, that would be too easy.
"We let them run," he said finally. "Let them take their fear back to their leaders."
The operative nodded and vanished into the shadows.
Hikaru remained for a moment longer, watching as the Iwa forces began their slow retreat. The war would continue, but now, the balance had shifted. They would not march forward with confidence anymore. Every step would be taken with hesitation, every plan clouded by uncertainty.
By the time the great villages realized the truth—that their war was no longer fought on the battlefield but in the mind—it would already be too late.
The war was his now.