Naruto: Desert Phantom

The tunnels stretched endlessly before them.

Narui followed close behind Kaito, his steps unsteady, his breath ragged. Every corridor looked the same—tight sandstone walls, uneven ground, shadows stretching into an endless abyss. There was no sense of direction, no change in the air, no hint that they were making any progress.

But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was the silence.

A deep, suffocating silence that weighed on them like a noose, tightening with every step.

Kaito could feel it—eyes watching them.

He couldn't see their pursuer. He couldn't sense him.

But he knew he was there.

They had tried to escape.

They had tried to break through the earth above them.

The moment Kaito had gathered chakra and pushed it into the tunnel walls, molding the terrain with Doton, he had felt it.

Resistance.

A web of Fūinjutsu.

The tunnels weren't just random underground paths. They were sealed.

An enclosed hunting ground, with no exits except the ones their captors wanted them to find.

Kaito had cursed under his breath. He had pushed harder, shifting his technique, trying to burrow through the stone in different ways. Nothing.

The walls rejected his chakra as if they weren't even made of natural earth.

There was no way out.

He kept his frustration hidden, but inwardly, he was furious.

They had no choice.

They had to keep playing this game.

Narui staggered. His legs were trembling with exhaustion, his breathing shallow and uneven. His body was running on sheer willpower.

Kaito didn't need to ask to know how close the boy was to collapsing.

And he hated it.

But there was no avoiding it.

They couldn't keep walking forever.

At some point, they had to rest.

Kaito exhaled slowly and glanced back at Narui. The younger shinobi was trying to keep up, but every few steps, his movements became sluggish, his posture slouched, his feet dragged slightly against the sand.

He wasn't going to last much longer.

Kaito clenched his jaw. He really hated this.

But they had no choice.

"…We stop here," he finally said.

Narui blinked, swaying slightly. "Huh?"

"You're exhausted," Kaito stated. "We need to rest."

Narui opened his mouth as if to protest, but his shoulders slumped almost instantly. The moment he heard the words, his body responded for him. His legs nearly gave out beneath him as he stumbled to the side and let himself fall against the tunnel wall.

Kaito remained standing, kunai still firm in his grip, eyes never leaving the darkness ahead.

Narui wiped the sweat from his forehead and forced out a weak chuckle. "Damn it… I feel like we've been walking for days."

Kaito's expression didn't change. "It's only been a few hours."

"Feels longer." Narui groaned, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position. "Still can't believe Doton didn't work. That was our best shot at getting out of here."

Kaito's grip on his kunai tightened slightly. "Yeah. That Fūinjutsu… It's not just blocking the surface—it's redirecting chakra flow entirely. It's like the tunnels don't exist to outside detection."

Narui rubbed his face. "So what, they built this place just to trap people in it?"

"Most likely yes...," Kaito muttered.

Narui exhaled paniked, staring at the tunnel ceiling. "You think there's a real exit somewhere?"

Kaito didn't answer right away. His mind was running through every possible option.

There had to be.

This wasn't a graveyard. If it was, there would be no need for such a complicated Fūinjutsu system. That meant there was a way out. Somehow...

The only question was how far they had to go to find it.

"…There's always an exit," Kaito finally said. "We just have to make it there."

Narui let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "That's assuming we survive long enough."

Neither of them said anything after that.

Narui shifted slightly against the tunnel wall and exhaled. "I'll take first watch."

Kaito shot him a look. "No you stupid mosshead, you won't."

Narui frowned. "I can still—"

"Narui," Kaito said flatly.

The boy shut his mouth.

"You're barely awake as it is," Kaito continued. "I'll keep watch. You sleep."

Narui hesitated. He didn't want to sleep. He was afraid of the pictures his mind would show him... Taneka... and he didn't want to close his eyes and risk waking up to a kunai in his throat.

But Kaito's stare left no room for argument.

The Jonin wasn't just giving him an order. He was ensuring Narui got even a fraction of energy back.

Narui sighed and leaned his head back. "...Fine."

But even as his body slumped in exhaustion, he muttered,

"Wake me if anything happens."

---

Sabaku waited.

Patient. Silent.

Watching like some creep.

It was a dance, a game, an unspoken duel between predator and prey.

The jonin knew he was there. Sabaku could see it—the way the Jonin never truly let his guard down. The way his eyes never fully rested. He was waiting for Sabaku to make a mistake.

And Sabaku…

He was waiting for Kaito to get tired.

Because eventually, no matter how strong a shinobi was, no matter how skilled, fatigue always won.

An hour passed.

Then another.

Kaito remained unmoving. His posture slouched slightly, his fingers flexing every few minutes as if keeping himself sharp.

It was an act.

He was trying to lure Sabaku out.

Sabaku didn't move.

Two more hours passed.

Narui was long asleep. His body had finally given up, slipping into exhausted unconsciousness.

The jonin remained still.

But Sabaku could see it happening.

The tiniest shift in his breath. The way his head tilted forward for half a second before snapping back up.

Even the best shinobi couldn't keep their body awake forever.

The Jonin had played to much and tricked himself.

And now—

The moment was here.

Sabaku moved.

Silent.

A ripple in the air. A flicker of heat, a distortion of reality itself.

His kunai was in his grip.

A single strike.

The hunt would be finished.

He stepped forward—

Kaito moved.

A flicker of motion—his kunai slashed toward Sabaku's position.

Sabaku twisted, evading just barely.

For the briefest moment, his form flickered into view.

Kaito's eyes locked onto him.

"There you are."

His voice was calm.

Sabaku stilled.

The Jonin had been truly tired—but he had still been ready.

Sabaku let out a quiet breath. Impressive.

But it didn't matter.

Because the hunt was already over.

Kaito turned his head slightly—

And saw it.

The kunai.

Already lodged in Narui's chest.

His breath caught.

Narui's lips trembled. A weak, strangled breath escaped him. His fingers twitched toward the wound—too weak to grasp the blade.

Kaito had been too late.

Narui's gaze met his, full of shock and pain.

Then faded.

His body slumped.

His chest stilled.

And in the silence of the tunnels—

Sabakus hunt was over.

The tunnel was silent.

Narui lay lifeless on the ground, his blood seeping into the sand in slow, crimson tendrils. Kaito stood still, his breath controlled, his posture tense. His body was ready to fight—but there was no longer a fight to be had.

It didn't matter anymore.

A ripple passed through the wall behind him.

It was faint, almost imperceptible, like a gentle distortion. A hum, more felt than heard, vibrated through the tunnel walls—

The Fūinjutsu barrier flickered.

Seals pulsed with dim light as the space distorted—then parted.

And through it, a shadow stepped forward.

Lion.

A towering presence in the dim tunnel, his black clothing blending seamlessly with the darkness. His mask, caught the faint light of the seals before they faded behind him.

Kaito turned sharply—but before his feet could even pivot, before his muscles could respond—

A hand clamped around his skull.

His entire body was yanked upward.

"—?!"

Lion lifted him effortlessly, one-handed, as if he were nothing more than a doll. Kaito's feet kicked out instinctively, his chakra flaring to push off against the air— to form a jutsu.

But the grip on his skull didn't budge.

It was like being held by solid iron.

Cold. Unyielding.

A steel vice that squeezed—not suddenly, not violently, but with slow, crushing finality.

Kaito's mind screamed at him to react. His fingers twitched toward his kunai, his body tensed to move—

But the pressure increased.

The pain spread in dull, pulsing waves, radiating from his skull to his spine. His vision blurred. Darkness crept at the edges, swallowing his thoughts.

His limbs stopped responding.

His breath hitched once—then faltered.

A final, choked sound escaped his throat—

And then, nothing.

His body went limp.

Lion held him there a second longer, feeling the last of the tension leave his frame, before letting go.

Kaito crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

Silence.

The air rippled again.

This time, not from the wall.

This time, directly in front of Lion.

It was subtle at first. A slight distortion, like the wavering heat that rises from sunbaked dunes. At first, it barely registered—just an inconsistency in the space before him.

Then, it grew stronger.

The air wavered, bending unnaturally, as if struggling to hold onto its own shape. The fine grains of sand around the distortion began to shift, circling slowly in the air—weightless.

And then—

The illusion snapped.

A figure materialized.

Dark Anbu gear, perfectly fitted to his lean, wiry frame. A stone mask, its surface intricately carved with the swirling patterns of a fennec pawn, staring blankly at the world with its empty, hollowed-out eyes.

Sabaku.

No—Fennec.

He stood relaxed, his posture loose, as if the entire hunt had been effortless.

Lion studied him for a long moment, then gave a small nod.

"Well executed, Fennec." His voice was deep, steady—satisfied, but unreadable. "Efficient."

Sabaku gave a small, casual tilt of his head. The gesture could have been acknowledgment—or indifference.

His gaze flicked briefly to Kaito, who lay motionless at Lion's feet.

Lion followed his glance, then exhaled.

"We're taking the Jonin with us," he said, his tone flat, almost bored. "T&I will handle him."

Sabaku didn't react.

He had finished his job. The rest wasn't his problem.

There was only a small part of him who felt pity for the guy. No one wants to go to T&I, not even as a visitor.

Lion let the silence stretch for a moment, then his voice shifted.

"Well?"

Sabaku turned his head slightly. "What?"

Lion's lips curled slightly beneath his mask. "How do you feel?"

Sabaku exhaled, slow and even. "Like I need a drink."

Lion chuckled, the deep sound echoing through the tunnel. "Come on. You just outmaneuvered a Jonin and eliminated three targets. Was it easier or harder than you expected?"

Sabaku shrugged. "Harder than fighting civilians. Easier than my normal daily training."

Lion let out a low snort. "That's one way to look at it."

Sabaku let his shoulders roll in a slow stretch, the tension leaving his body now that the mission was complete. "It played out as expected."

Lion studied him for a moment, then nodded.

"You were patient. That was good." A pause. "But you hesitated."

Sabaku's body stilled for a fraction of a second—then he turned his masked face toward Lion.

"I waited," he corrected.

Lion tilted his head slightly. "Maybe."

His voice was unreadable again.

"Or maybe you just stalled."

Sabaku didn't answer.

Lion let the moment linger, watching him carefully. Then, finally, he exhaled and waved a hand dismissively.

"Doesn't matter." He gestured toward the deeper end of the tunnel. "You're done for today. Go rest."

Sabaku hesitated only briefly.

Then, he tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Without another word, they both turned to the wall and simply walked through the seals.

---

Can we push for 100 Powerstones and a Double Release?

And thanks for reading:)