Chapter 13: Ghosts in the Mist
The thick fog curled through the valley, swallowing the moonlight and shrouding the land in an unnatural darkness. The Kiri platoon moved cautiously, their eyes darting through the mist, gripping their weapons tightly. They had been deployed on an urgent reconnaissance mission after disturbing reports of missing shinobi along the border.
What they didn't realize was that they were already being watched.
Hikaru observed them from the ridge above, hidden within the dense foliage. His cloak blended seamlessly with the shadows, his breath steady and controlled. This was not an ambush. Not yet. This was a test.
"How long before they notice?" he murmured.
Beside him, one of his most trusted subordinates—a former hunter-nin from Kiri—watched intently. "They're already unnerved. This mist is unnatural, but they won't suspect an enemy yet. Give it another five minutes, and their formation will break."
Hikaru nodded. This was precisely what he wanted.
The mist was his doing, but not through chakra. Instead, he had released a specially formulated compound—an aerosolized blend of hallucinogens and disorienting agents. It was not strong enough to incapacitate, but just enough to fray the edges of their perception, distort their sense of direction, and plant the seeds of paranoia.
One of the Kiri shinobi suddenly spun around, kunai raised.
"Who's there?" he hissed.
His comrades tensed, but there was nothing. Nothing but the mist.
Then the whispers began.
Soft, unintelligible murmurs, carried by the wind. They came from nowhere and everywhere at once, spoken in no known language yet filled with an undeniable sense of dread.
One of the younger shinobi staggered back, clutching his head. "We need to leave," he gasped. "Something's wrong."
Their commander, a seasoned jonin, narrowed his eyes. "Hold your ground. We don't retreat from shadows."
But even he was gripping his sword tighter.
Hikaru remained motionless, watching as doubt festered within their ranks. This was psychological warfare at its finest. There was no need for a direct assault when fear could do the work for him.
"Another three minutes," Hikaru said quietly. "Then they'll turn on each other."
His subordinate nodded, eyes gleaming with understanding. "Shall we intervene?"
Hikaru considered it, then shook his head. "No need. This is just the beginning. Let them run, let them tell their leaders what they experienced here."
He glanced down at the device in his palm—a small, unassuming transmitter. With a press of a button, a low-frequency sound pulse would further enhance their paranoia, convincing them they were being hunted by something beyond their comprehension.
With a faint smirk, he activated it.
Below, the Kiri shinobi's discipline shattered. One screamed. Another lashed out at an unseen enemy. Their commander tried to restore order, but it was too late.
They ran.
Hikaru exhaled softly. No bloodshed. No traces left behind. Just whispers in the mist.
Ghosts don't leave evidence.