Side: The Hunt

Running. Always running.

My breath comes in ragged gasps as I sprint through the dense forest, branches clawing at my clothes, roots threatening to trip me at every turn.

I can feel the weight of their pursuit pressing down on me. How did they find me? How did they track me through the shadows? These questions echo in my mind as I push myself to go faster, to stay one step ahead.

I may not be the strongest shinobi, but I am elusive. That's what has kept me alive this long. But now, with them hot on my trail, even my skills are being put to the test.

As I run, I glance over my shoulder, catching glimpses of my pursuers darting through the trees behind me. They're getting closer. But I won't go down without a fight.

I glide effortlessly through the forest, my mind racing as I plan my next move. I know this terrain better than anyone; it's my home. And I'll use every advantage it offers to escape.

I veer off the main path, ducking into a thicket of bushes and ferns. Pausing for a moment, I listen intently, my senses attuned to any sign of their approach. When I hear nothing but the rustle of leaves in the wind, I set to work.

Quickly, I gather fallen branches and vines, fashioning crude traps to slow them down. Pitfalls hidden beneath a layer of leaves, tripwires strung between trees, anything to buy me time.

As I work, I can't help but wonder how they're able to track me so easily. Are they using some secret method of sensing my presence?

Or is there a traitor among us, feeding them information? The thought churns in my stomach, but I push it aside. There's no time for doubts now, only action.

With my traps set, I continue my desperate flight through the forest, each step heavy with the weight of uncertainty. But I refuse to let fear consume me. I am a ninja.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots through my leg as I stumble into one of my own traps. Cursing under my breath, I struggle to free myself, but the damage is done.

I can hear them closing in, their voices carrying through the trees like a pack of hungry wolves.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I force myself to keep moving. I'm not out yet. Not by a long shot. 

And then, just when I think I can't go any further, I see it.

A narrow ravine cuts through the forest, its depths shrouded in shadow. It's a risky move, but I have no other choice. Taking a deep breath, I gather my strength and leap into the unknown.

The fall seems to stretch on forever, the air rushing past me in a blur of motion. And then, with a bone-jarring impact, I land at the bottom of the ravine, my body aching but intact.

I had escaped.

As I collapsed to the ground, my chest heaving with exhaustion, my eyes fell upon a gruesome sight.

There, lying motionless in the dirt, was a headless body. At first glance, it seemed like just another casualty of the relentless pursuit that had hounded me through the forest. But as I looked closer, horror swept over me like a tidal wave crashing against the shore.

It was my own body.

A scream clawed its way up my throat, but I choked it back, unable to tear my eyes away from the gruesome view.

How could this be? Had I somehow fallen victim to some genjutsu? I had no answers. My vision began to blur, the edges darkening until I saw and felt nothing.

----------

A white-haired boy stood over the fallen shinobi, his features shrouded in shadow as he wiped the blood from his blade.

"Who was he?" he voiced his thoughts aloud.

"And how did he find our base?"

Beside him stood another man, his frame towering and muscular, with wild orange hair and a fierce gaze that spoke of untamed power. His rugged features twisted into a scowl as he surveyed the fallen shinobi.

"I can hear them," the orange-haired boy muttered, his voice low.

"Other shinobi, closing in on us."

The white-haired boy's lips curled into a smirk, his purple eyes glittering with amusement.

"Looks like we have some uninvited guests," he remarked, his tone laced with mock hospitality.

"Perhaps we should offer them a warm welcome."

As if on cue, three figures emerged from the shadows, their forms cloaked in darkness. They wasted no time in making their intentions known, their voices cold and merciless.

"This one is our prey," one of them declared, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

"Hand over his head, and we'll spare you."

The white-haired boy chuckled darkly, his grin widening into a predatory smirk.

"You saw our base, did you?" he taunted, his voice dripping with scorn.

"Well, now you can't leave."

With a sudden blur of motion, the white-haired boy drew his massive blade. Without hesitation, he lunged forward.

The three shinobis barely had time to react before he was upon them. But they were not so easily defeated.

As they clashed, each strike sending sparks flying as blade met kunai in a dazzling display of skill. 

The hunters retaliated with swift and deadly strikes. But the white-haired boy was no ordinary opponent.

With each swing of his blade, he seemed to become one with the water itself, his attacks flowing like a river carving its path through the earth.

As the battle raged on, the orange-haired boy moved to join the fray, his fists crackling with raw energy. But the white-haired boy held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'll handle this alone," he said, his voice calm and steady despite the chaos unfolding around them.

"I need to prove myself. I need to become stronger, to defeat the demon and claim the blade for myself."

But even as the white-haired boy spoke, his enemies struck, slicing through his neck with ruthless precision. But to their shock and dismay, the boy did not fall.

Instead, he grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light.

"Surprised? Ever heard of the Hydrification Technique?"

He dissolved into a swirling mass of water, his form shifting and twisting in the blink of an eye. With a swift motion, he struck back, his blade cutting through flesh and bone with deadly accuracy.

His enemies stood no chance against the relentless onslaught, their cries drowned out by the sound of rushing water.

In mere moments, they lay defeated, their bodies scattered like leaves upon the ground.

As the battle settled, the orange-haired stepped forward, his gaze lingering on the white-haired for a moment.

"Suigetsu," he began, his tone firm, "we must tidy up the base before Zabuza's return."

But Suigetsu shook his head, a flicker of irritation crossed his features.

"We don't have to do everything just because the demon rescued us," muttered under his breath.

Jugo raised an eyebrow, his expression one of confusion.

"But we joined his team," remarked, his tone tinged with disbelief.

Suigetsu shrugged, casually sliding his massive blade behind his back with a fluid motion.

"Who says we have to follow the demon?" he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"We're a team now, Jugo. And if I can defeat the demon, then he'll have to follow my orders," he paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face before he continued.

"The first thing I'll do is change the name of this organization."

Jugo found himself unable to suppress a smile at Suigetsu's antics.

"I don't hate it," he admitted, his voice quiet but resolute.

"But why don't you like it, Suigetsu? 'Seven Warlords' sounds fitting for someone from Kiri."

Suigetsu rolled his eyes, a playful smirk crossing his features.

"Why does the name of the organization have to be so lame?" he muttered to himself, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"But you're right, Jugo. Maybe it's not so bad after all."