Naruto rebirth! Born again with a system.

Chapter 33: The Ambush Begins!

The forest held its breath as Team 15 moved into position, each member understanding that the next few minutes would determine whether they could prevent a significant intelligence breach and retrieve the hawks. The familiar weight of genuine combat settled over them, but this time they carried the confidence of improved coordination and tactical planning developed through their recent training and life-or-death experiences.

Shibi's insects spread through the area in patterns invisible to the untrained eye, creating a surveillance network that would ensure no enemy could escape undetected. His analytical mind processed multiple variables as he positioned himself for the initial strike—wind direction, terrain advantages, potential escape routes, and the psychological impact of a swift, decisive opening move.

The kikaichu moved with purpose through the undergrowth, their tiny forms creating an invisible web of death around the enemy position. Each insect carried a fragment of Shibi's chakra, allowing him to coordinate their movements with the precision of a master tactician who had spent years perfecting his clan's techniques.

"Remember," he whispered one final time, his voice barely audible even to his students, "fast, overwhelming, coordinated. We give them no time to respond or retreat. The moment we begin, there is no hesitation, no mercy. This is war."

Through their enhanced bond, Kōzaru could sense Yuki and Riku's readiness. The ninja hounds understood their role in the assault, their pack coordination refined through recent training and real combat experience. Their muscles were coiled like springs, their enhanced senses mapping every scent and sound from the enemy position.

The guard at the cave entrance maintained his patrol pattern, unaware that death was approaching from multiple directions. His casual alertness suggested professional competence—he moved with the fluid grace of someone who had survived multiple combat encounters, his hand never straying far from his weapons. But there was also a lack of immediate concern about discovery, the subtle relaxation that came from believing oneself to be in a secure position.

Tatsuma's shadow clones had already positioned themselves near the back entrance, their chakra signatures carefully suppressed to avoid detection. The real Tatsuma crouched beside Aotaka, both of them watching their sensei with the intense focus of students about to witness a master at work.

"Watch closely," Aotaka whispered, his hand resting on his sword hilt. "This is what jōnin-level combat looks like."

"Level 25 versus level 12," Kōzaru confirmed quietly, his enhanced senses still picking up the enemy's chakra signature. "It shouldn't even be close."

Shibi moved first.

The attack was so swift and silent that the other three barely saw it happen. One moment the Mist ninja was standing guard, casually scanning the treeline with the practiced eye of a professional sentinel. The next moment, a single poison beetle had landed on the back of his neck, its bite so small and precise that he didn't even notice the initial contact, slapping his neck as if something had irritated him.

The guard shrugged it off and continued his patrol for perhaps ten more seconds before the specialized toxin began to take effect. His eyes widened slightly as he felt the first symptoms—a tingling sensation that quickly spread through his nervous system. His hand moved toward his throat in confusion, but the paralytic agent was already shutting down his motor functions.

Within moments, his legs buckled as the poison reached his heart. Shibi appeared beside him in a blur of motion, catching the falling body before it could hit the ground and make any sound. The entire assassination had been executed with surgical precision—one bite, one dose of carefully cultivated toxin, and absolute silence.

"Incredible," Tatsuma breathed, watching their sensei's assassination technique with awe and a touch of horror. The clinical efficiency of the kill was both impressive and terrifying.

"This is the power of the Aburame clan..." He said to himself, impressed.

The guard's body hit the ground without a sound, his chakra completely drained, his life extinguished in seconds. Shibi's insects had executed the kill with terrifying efficiency, demonstrating why jōnin were considered elite among shinobi. The entire assassination had taken less than twenty seconds from initiation to completion.

"That's the power of a level 25 ninja," Aotaka whispered, his respect for their sensei reaching new heights. "No wasted motion, no hesitation, no chance for the enemy to respond."

"Perfect assassination," Kōzaru agreed, his Inuzuka instincts recognizing the predatory precision of the attack. "He never had a chance to even cry out."

The sight of such overwhelming superiority in combat was both reassuring and sobering. Reassuring because it confirmed their sensei's ability to handle the strongest enemies, sobering because it reminded them how far they still had to go in their own development.

"Move," Shibi commanded, his voice carrying the quiet authority of someone who had just eliminated a threat without breaking stride. His insects began repositioning for the next phase of the assault, their coordination seamless and deadly.

The coordinated assault began immediately. Kōzaru and his companions charged through the main entrance while Tatsuma's shadow clones moved through the back entrance, creating the chaos and confusion their plan required. The cave entrance, which had seemed so well-defended moments before, now became a funnel that channeled their assault directly into the enemy position.

"Enemy attack!" shouted one of the remaining Mist ninja as Team 15 burst into the cave, his voice carrying the sharp alarm of someone who had just realized their security had been catastrophically compromised.

The interior of the cave erupted into motion as the Hidden Mist operatives responded to the assault with professional speed. But instead of panic, the strongest of them—the level 19 ninja Kōzaru had detected—stepped forward with cold calculation that spoke of extensive combat experience.

"Water Release: Water Wall Jutsu!" he called out, his hands forming seals with practiced efficiency that demonstrated high level battlefield application.

A massive wall of water materialized between the attackers and the cave's interior, the churning barrier rising from the stone floor with impressive speed and volume. The water twisted and flowed with unnatural cohesion, held together by precise chakra control that spoke of advanced ninjutsu training.

The water wall repelled Shibi's insects with devastating effectiveness, the tiny creatures unable to maintain their formation against the rushing torrent. Those kikaichu that tried to penetrate the barrier were swept away by the current, their coordinated assault disrupted by the sheer volume of water.

"Impressive," Shibi acknowledged, his tone carrying genuine respect for the tactical response. "A properly executed defensive technique at the crucial moment. But ultimately futile."

The admission surprised his students. They had rarely heard their sensei express admiration for enemy techniques, and his acknowledgment of the water wall's effectiveness carried significant weight.

"That's chunin-level ninjutsu," Kōzaru observed, his enhanced senses detecting the chakra expenditure required for such a technique. "Maybe even higher."

The water wall collapsed as quickly as it had formed, the technique's duration limited by the chakra cost of maintaining such a volume of water. But those few seconds had been enough—the three remaining Mist ninja had escaped the cave and formed a defensive line in the clearing outside.

Now the battle lines were drawn clearly: Team 15 versus three Hidden Mist operatives, with no terrain advantages for either side. The forest clearing provided open ground for combat, with enough space for advanced techniques but limited options for concealment or tactical maneuvering.

The leader—one of the level 12 ninja—assessed the situation with the cold professionalism of someone who had survived countless battles. His eyes moved systematically across each opponent, cataloging their weapons, positions, and apparent skill levels with the analytical precision of an experienced tactician.

"No escape from the jōnin," he said to his companions, his voice carrying the grim acceptance of someone who understood their tactical situation. "We fight."

"Understood," replied the woman with intricate tattoos covering her arms, her level 12 chakra signature radiating controlled aggression. The tattoos seemed to shift and move in the dappled sunlight, "The Bloody Mist doesn't retreat."

The youngest of them, the level 19 ninja whose cold eyes had been sharpening his kunai earlier, studied Shibi with the calculating gaze of someone who understood exactly what they were facing. His chakra signature was different from the others—more refined, more dangerous, carrying the weight of someone who had survived encounters that had killed less capable opponents.

"You take the children," he said to the tattooed woman, his voice carrying the authority of superior skill and battlefield experience. "We will handle the jōnin."

"Two chunin against one jōnin," the leader acknowledged grimly, his tactical mind already calculating their chances. "It might be enough."

"It will have to be," the young one replied, his chakra signature flaring as he prepared for the fight of his life, showing a toothy grin as his did, his fang like teeth on full display. "We kill them all."

The tactical separation made immediate sense from both perspectives. The level 19 ninja and the leader understood that defeating Shibi would require both of them working together with perfect coordination, which meant the tattooed woman would face three genin alone—a challenging assignment, but not impossible for a skilled chunin.

"You think one of you can handle all three of us?" Tatsuma called out, his confidence bolstered by their recent training and successful missions. His shadow clones had already positioned themselves strategically around the clearing.

The tattooed woman's smile was cold and predatory, carrying the cruel amusement of someone who had killed many opponents and found the prospect of adding to that count entertaining. "I am Kirigakure no Sato's finest. You are merely children playing at war."

"We are shinobi of Konohagakure," Aotaka replied, his hand moving to his sword hilt with practiced readiness. "Don't underesitmate us!"

"Hmm, we will see boy," she replied dismissively, her voice carrying the casual cruelty of someone who had studied her opponents. "I am something altogether different."

The enhanced information confirmed what they already knew—this would be their most dangerous opponent yet. Unlike the desperate Stone chunin they had faced before, this was a professional killer operating at full capacity, with decades of experience and a kill count that spoke of ruthless efficiency.

"Stay together," Kōzaru said quietly to his teammates, his enhanced senses detecting the killer intent radiating from their opponent like heat from a forge. "Pack coordination, just like we practiced."

"Right," they replied, their voices carrying the determination they had developed through training and combat experience, though tinged with the sobering realization of what they were facing.

Nearby, the confrontation between Shibi and the two stronger Mist ninja was beginning with the careful positioning that preceded high-level combat. The level 19 ninja and the leader understood that their only chance was perfect coordination against the jōnin—any mistake, any hesitation, any breakdown in their teamwork would result in death.

"Children," Mizuki Hōzuki said, her voice carrying the casual cruelty of someone who had killed many opponents and found the prospect of adding to that count entertaining, "you should have stayed in your village and played with wooden kunai."

"We stopped playing games when the war began," Kōzaru replied, his bond with Yuki and Riku strengthening as they prepared for battle. The ninja hounds flanked him, their enhanced senses mapping every detail of their opponent's position and movement.

"The war?" She laughed, a sound like breaking glass that carried no warmth or humor. "You know nothing of war. Let me show you what real combat looks like."

Her chakra signature flared as she prepared to demonstrate why the Hidden Mist produced some of the most feared assassins in the shinobi world. The tattoos on her arms began to glow with a faint blue light, suggesting techniques that went beyond standard ninjutsu.

The three genin of Team 15 stood ready, their improved coordination and recent combat experience about to face the ultimate test against a professional killer who had never shown mercy to opponents.

This would be a battle that would test everything they had learned about teamwork, tactics, and the harsh realities of the Third Great Ninja War.

The real fight was about to begin.