Naruto: Master of Two Kekkei Genkai

(Kumio POV)

We arrived at the front by the second day's dusk. The mist was thicker here, but it wasn't just the terrain anymore, it was death. It clung to everything. The trees were stripped bare, roots blackened from old fires. Patches of ground were scorched, carved by jutsu or explosives. Snow didn't settle here anymore, it melted on contact like the land itself was trying to forget it was winter.

The outpost was a narrow wooden compound built into a slope, flanked by trenches and camouflaged barricades. Looked like it had been thrown together in a week, because it had.

As we approached, one of the guards, barely older than us, raised a hand. His flak vest was too big for him, stained and burned at the edges.

"Convoy from the Mist capital?" he asked, voice hoarse.

Hamaki stepped forward. "Medical supplies and three genin for rotation."

He glanced at us like we were another shipment of rice. "You're late."

"Be glad we made it at all," Hamaki said, walking past him without waiting.

We followed.

The outpost wasn't quiet. Even without gunfire or jutsu crackling in the air, there was a kind of background noise, like the whole place was holding its breath. Chuunin and jonin moved fast, eyes darting to shadows that weren't there. Some looked twitchy. Others didn't look at all. Just kept walking.

Kuriko leaned toward me as we passed a bunkhouse with a tarp for a door. "This place smells like blood."

Shien sniffed the air. "That's because it is blood."

I didn't say anything, just kept walking.

We were shown to a small barrack on the north end of the camp, near the perimeter trench. Inside were three mats and a crate of supplies. That was it.

Hamaki stood in the doorway after we entered. "You're in rotation starting tomorrow. Patrols. Messenger runs. Reinforcements. If you're lucky, you'll just guard the wall. If not… you'll get a real mission. Rest. Because rest will be the first thing you lose."

Then she left without waiting for a response.

Kuriko sat down with a sigh, dropping her bag next to her. "So, this is what war looks like…"

Shien didn't say anything, just unpacked slowly, methodically. I dropped my bag in the corner and sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the wooden slats like they were about to split open.

Because if I was being honest… this didn't feel like a mission.

It felt like we were being fed into something.

Our first assignment came just after sunrise. We hadn't slept more than a few hours when the runner banged on our door.

"Up. East trench. Backup patrol."

We moved without complaint, slipping on gear and heading out into the fog. Our section was a winding trench, deep and slick with frozen mud. Other shinobi nodded to us in passing, some with recognition, others with pity.

At the front, a squad was already waiting, older teens, maybe seventeen, clearly exhausted.

"About time," one of them muttered.

Kuriko gave a tired shrug. "Overslept."

The leader, a thin jonin with sharp cheekbones and a long scar across his temple, waved us into position. "You three take point with my squad. Hamaki says you can handle yourselves."

We took our spots. I stood behind a collapsed wall section, frost clinging to the wood. Kuriko was a few meters away near a pillbox-style lookout. Shien stayed low, eyes scanning the fog like a hawk.

For ten minutes, nothing happened. Then everything did.

A whistling sound cut through the air.

"DOWN!"

We dropped as an explosion tore through the trench behind us. Mud, ice, and wood blasted skyward, shrapnel slicing through a chuunin who didn't move fast enough. Blood sprayed the wall. Screams followed.

Then came the kunai, dozens of them, raining through the mist. I threw up an ice barrier out of reflex, hearing metal ping and crack against it.

"Incoming!" someone yelled.

Figures emerged from the fog, Konoha headbands. Three of them. Then six. Then more. Flashes of green flak, the hiss of wind jutsu, the smell of scorched earth.

"Return fire!" the jonin barked.

Kuriko vanished in a blur, already repositioning. Shien leapt forward, two kunai spinning in his fingers. I surged forward behind my barrier, bone forming along my forearms like curved daggers, coated in frost.

I didn't think. I moved.

The first enemy came at me fast, his tanto low and angled toward my ribs. I parried with my right arm, bone meeting steel with a crack. My left hand shot out, palm open, a burst of cold air slammed into his chest, freezing the front of his flak vest. He staggered, and I didn't hesitate, drove my bone blade into his shoulder and kicked him backward.

Another one behind me. I twisted, ducked the slash, slammed an elbow into their stomach, then snapped a shard of ice from the mist and drove it into their leg.

They dropped.

All around me was chaos, screams, the hiss of chakra, the crack of jutsu slamming into frozen wood.

Then I heard it.

"Kuriko's down!"

I spun, heart lurching. Shien was crouched beside her, shielding her from another enemy. Blood stained her side, not fatal, but deep.

I moved without thinking.

I grabbed the nearest attacker, freezing his hand to his own kunai, then shattered it with a flick of bone. His scream was short-lived. I threw him aside and reached Shien and Kuriko, dropping beside them.

"She's hit, but breathing," Shien said through gritted teeth. "They're pushing hard. Six more coming from the ridge."

I looked up and saw them. Six Konoha shinobi. Older. Strong. Confident.

Shien looked at me. "We can't hold that many."

"Not alone," I muttered.

I stood up, frost blooming beneath my feet, spreading outward like a wave. I could feel the moisture in the air, the cold bending to my will. My bones ached, not from fatigue, but from pressure. Power.

I closed my eyes and reached for it.

"Back me up," I said to Shien. "We end this now."

The first of the six charged down the slope, blades drawn. I took a step forward, bones erupting from my arms in sharp, jagged spikes. I slammed them into the ground.

A wave of ice burst from the soil, forming jagged pillars that shot up and caught two of them mid-sprint. They froze in place, literally, ice creeping up their limbs, locking them solid.

Another charged from the right. Shien intercepted him with a kunai to the knee, then drove his foot into his opponent's chest. The man tumbled back, rolling down the hill.

Kuriko stirred beside us, groaning.

"Stay down," I said quickly, dropping beside her again as the last three Konoha shinobi stopped just outside our range.

One of them raised a hand.

"Retreat!"

Then they vanished into the mist.

The field was silent again, save for groans and the crackle of settling ice. Our side was bloodied but standing. Barely.

I helped Kuriko to her feet, slinging her arm over my shoulder.

"Told you… I wasn't dying first," she muttered weakly.

"You're damn right you're not," I said, guiding her back toward the trench.

Shien walked beside us, face grim but calm. "They underestimated us."

"They won't next time," I said quietly.

We returned to the barracks a few hours later, Kuriko patched up, Shien silent, and me still replaying every movement in my head. Every strike. Every kill.

I sat on my bunk and stared at the wall. Still heard the screams. Still smelled the blood. Still saw the frost-covered corpse of the first man I stabbed.

My first kill. I didn't regret it. Didn't mean I felt good about it either.

Kuriko was already asleep, curled on her side, one arm wrapped around her midsection.

Shien sat across from me, sharpening a kunai.

"This is only the beginning," he said.

I nodded once. "I know."