Naruto: The White Spider of the Leaf

Both Minato and I leapt in opposite directions as a barrage of thin, poison-laden needles shot out from the reeds where our weapons had landed. They embedded themselves into a tree behind where we had just been standing, the tips glinting ominously in the pale light. My heart hammered as I landed in a crouch, scanning the area as I did hand seals for a lightning style ninjutsu.

"They're baiting us, wait," Minato muttered from his position a few paces away, his sharp eyes fixed on the reeds.

"You're right. But they're not just baiting," I said as I stopped preparing my jutsu. "They're probing."

Four figures stepped out from the shadows of the reeds. The leader moved with an unsettling grace, his arms crossed and a confident smirk tugging at his lips. Three other shinobi stood on his sides, significantly younger than him, but still our seniors. Likely around fifteen or sixteen years old, the lot of them. They bore the unmistakable markings of the Sand Village: tan flak jackets and headbands engraved with the symbol of Sunagakure, the ninja village of the desert nation known as the wind country.

"Well, well," the leader said, his voice smooth and mocking. "What do we have here? Young leaf shinobi, Genin, wandering so deep in Rain territory. Should I guess? You're carrying something important, aren't you?"

I tensed, gripping a kunai in one hand. The leader was older than his companions, with sharp features and calculating eyes. If I had to guess, he must be a Sand Jonin in charge of those three genin. Shit. This isn't good for us, not one bit. 

What drew my attention most was the large, cylindrical object on his back—a puppet.

"Minato," I murmured, "this one's a puppeteer."

The leader's smirk widened. "Very perceptive. So young, yet you already know of the Sand's most glorious ninja art. Kids, you're looking at Hiroto of the Sand, proud student of the great Chiyo herself. Consider it an honor to be slain by my art, children."

"Not today," Minato said, his voice cool and steady.

Hiroto chuckled darkly. "Bravado. How quaint. But I wonder—do you even know how close you are to death already, kid?"

Before either of us could respond, Hiroto raised his hand, and his puppet sprang to life. Its movements were unnervingly fluid, joints clicking faintly as it emerged from behind him. It made these unsettling noises, as if you were clanging a bunch of bones in a cup. Cracking. It was shaped like a humanoid scorpion, its sleek wooden body painted black and gold. Poisoned blades extended from its claws, and its tail was a grotesque contraption of needles and serrated edges.

Minato and I moved the instant the puppet lunged, splitting up to make ourselves harder targets. The scorpion's tail snapped toward me, a flurry of needles shooting out in rapid succession. I dodged, rolling across the slick ground and hurling a kunai at its head. It struck home, but the puppet barely flinched, its head swiveling unnaturally toward me as if mocking the attempt.

"Shiro, watch out!" Minato called.

I jumped back just in time to avoid the swipe of one of the younger shinobi's kunai. The Sand genin was quick, darting forward with surprising speed and precision. I parried his strikes, our weapons clashing in bursts of sparks.

"Don't lose focus," Hiroto called out mockingly as his puppet circled Minato, its tail poised to strike.

"Shiro, take the scroll and go! I'll deal with the old guy." 

"Old guy?! I'm twenty five!" 

"The old guy." Minato reaffirmed.

Hiroto forced his puppet airborne and launched it at Minato. The scorpion puppet soared through the air, its serrated tail whipping toward Minato like a striking viper. Minato sidestepped effortlessly, the needles embedded in the tree behind him barely missing his face. His reflexes were insane as usual, but I knew even he couldn't keep this up forever—not against a Jonin puppeteer and his monstrosity.

"Shiro, go!" he shouted again, his voice calm but insistent.

I hesitated, my grip tightening on the scroll hidden in my pouch. I didn't like the idea of leaving Minato alone against Hiroto. But I also knew he wasn't asking—he was ordering.

Hiroto laughed, the sound low and grating. "Running already? How predictable. You Leaf shinobi always cling to your precious little missions. It's almost too easy to toy with you."

Minato didn't respond. His focus was entirely on the scorpion puppet, his hands flashed with untold speed as he weaved his hand seals, summoning a wall of wind to deflect another barrage of poisoned needles.

"Go, Shirokumo!" Minato barked, sharper this time.

I just looked him in the eyes, and he nodded.

"Trust me. I've got this." Minato said.

I bit down a curse and turned, my feet pounding against the wet earth as I sprinted toward the treeline. My heart thundered in my chest, and the scroll seemed to grow heavier with every step.

"Not so fast!" Hiroto's voice rang out behind me, followed by a sharp whistle.

I glanced back just in time to see him gesturing toward his genin squad. The three of them exchanged quick glances before breaking into a run, splitting up to flank me from three directions.

"Capture the boy," Hiroto ordered, "I'll deal with the blond kid myself."

Minato, ever composed, didn't even flinch. "Oh, you guys will try, alright" he muttered under his breath, shifting into a ready stance. "But don't expect them to succeed."

I didn't have time to watch the clash between them; the sound of footsteps behind me was growing louder. The Sand genin were fast, and they were coordinated. They boxed me in before I even had a chance to think.

The first one came at me from the left—a tall, wiry boy with a short sword glinting in his hand. I ducked under his swing, driving my shoulder into his ribs and shoving him aside. The second, a girl with sharp eyes and a rather large fan strapped to her back, hurled a handful of shuriken at me from the right. I twisted mid-step, my kunai deflecting two of them while the third nicked my shoulder.

The pain barely registered; adrenaline was flooding my system now. I kept moving, darting toward the treeline in a zigzag pattern to make myself a harder target.

The third genin, a stocky boy wielding a sickle and chain with a thick steel ball of spikes at the other end, stepped into my path. He swung the chain in a wide arc, forcing me to backpedal.

"You're not going anywhere, Leaf!" he snarled, the chain whistling dangerously close to my face.

I gritted my teeth, calculating my next move. These three weren't pushovers—they'd clearly trained for this kind of mission. But they were still genin, and genin made mistakes.

I feinted to the left, drawing the stocky boy's attention, then pivoted sharply to the right, slipping past him before he could react. The fan-wielding girl cursed, and I heard her shouting something to the others, but I didn't stick around to hear what. I bolted into the treeline, the shadows swallowing me whole as I opened the first and second gates. I threw a shuriken tied with a steel wire and got it around a branch far ahead, then pulled myself inward to shoot forward like I did before against those cloud shinobi. It sure helped me create a good distance from the enemy.

"After him!" Hiroto's voice echoed, laced with irritation. "Don't let him get away!"

I glanced back once more as I ran, catching a fleeting glimpse of Minato facing off against Hiroto. The scorpion puppet lashed out again, and Minato sidestepped with almost casual grace, his wind style slicing through the air in a blur.

He'll be fine, I told myself, pushing the image out of my mind. 

He's Minato. He always has a plan.

But as the shouts and footsteps of the Sand genin drew closer behind me, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling in my gut that this mission was far from over.

…