Naruto: Threads of Crimson

The forest around us was thick with the scent of moss and the quiet hum of distant wildlife. The tension in the air was palpable as we crouched in the trees, eyes focused on the four Iwa ninjas below.

My heart thudded in my chest, but my mind was calm, calculating. I glanced at Shisui, who returned the look with a small, confident nod. This was our second real battle outside of training, and though we were only seven years old, we knew what was at stake.

The terrain wasn't in our favor, and if we didn't find a way to get the drop on them and take them out quickly, we risked alerting more of their forces or getting tangled in an unnecessary fight. 

'Genjutsu: Double-Cross,' I thought, forming the hand seals with practiced ease, my chakra flowing steadily into the technique. This wasn't just a normal illusion. Ever since I spoke with the genjutsu expert in our clan, he had shown me how to craft a double-layered genjutsu. The beauty of it was that it planted a second, deeper illusion, set to activate only when certain conditions were met.

The first layer settled over the Iwa ninjas like a veil. In their minds, a squad of Leaf Anbu descended from the trees, silent and deadly, preparing to strike. The tension in their bodies rippled immediately. One of the Iwa ninjas—their leader, I guessed—barked out orders. 

"Anbu! Don't retreat! We must deliver this information," he shouted, his voice taut with urgency. Their formation tightened, every muscle coiled for the coming assault. 

One of the Iwa ninjas, a tall man with a jagged scar running down his cheek, lunged forward to attack one of the phantom Anbu. His kunai slashed through the air, aimed with deadly precision, but as soon as the blade made contact, the Anbu crumbled like a tower made of blocks, scattering onto the ground and quickly disappearing.

The same happened to the other ninjas. One fired off a barrage of rock bullets, but the illusionary enemy simply burst into bubbles, drifting harmlessly away. Realization began to dawn on their faces as they understood they were caught in a genjutsu.

In unison, they disrupted their chakra flow, pushing my illusion from their minds and clearing their pathways. But that was the moment the second layer of my genjutsu triggered—the true essence of Double-cross.

Their stance reformed, and the leader quickly regained his composure. "It was a genjutsu and a powerful one," he said, scanning the area. "Make sure your pathways are disrupted. We can't afford another slip-up." 

I smirked, watching from my hidden position. The first part of the genjutsu had been an obvious distraction, but now came the subtle twist. As they looked at each other, a subtle change in their expressions began to take hold. Their eyes darted suspiciously between comrades, lingering just a little too long, a faint glint of hostility flickering beneath the surface.

'This is what Double-Cross is all about. It didn't just make them see enemies; it made them feel that their own teammates couldn't be trusted.' A whisper of paranoia settled in, born of their own doubts. The illusion crafted a feedback loop of suspicion. The more they looked at each other, the more they believed their comrades were turning against them.

I could see it taking root. One ninja glanced too quickly at another, and in return, received a wary stare. Small, almost imperceptible shifts in their posture began to show—a hand resting a little too close to a kunai, a step back from their supposed allies. And the longer they stood in that state, the deeper the paranoia would grow, until eventually, it would boil over into aggression.

The genius of this genjutsu was in its subtlety. It preyed on the natural distrust and tension that came with war, amplifying it to a deadly degree. It wasn't a flashy technique, but it was devastating if left unchecked.

Of course, it had its limits. It required careful control of chakra, and it wouldn't work on those with strong wills or if another enemy appeared while they were under the illusion, allowing them to refocus their attention. 'But at this moment, it is the best genjutsu.'

The leader's eyes flicked nervously between his men. "Everyone... stay calm," he muttered, but even his voice held a slight edge of doubt. His hand twitched, brushing against the handle of his sword. 

The scarred man's hand trembled violently now, the kunai shaking as if it had a life of its own. The woman beside him, her expression growing increasingly tense, clutched her weapon tightly, her knuckles turning white.

'It's only a matter of time before one of them snaps.' I smirked as the scene unfolded

Suddenly, from my perch, I saw Shisui's chakra spike. 'Sure, we could wait for them to turn on themselves but with them being as distracted as they are it's a great time for us to kill them quickly.'

I caught his eye, and we both smiled as we knew this was the moment. 'They're not going to stand a chance.' I thought as I nodded to him.

Shisui was the first to strike, a blur of motion. His body flickered across the clearing and appeared before one of the shinobi. Before he could react, Shisui's tanto was flying towards his chest. The man let out a breathless gasp, his body crumpling to the ground, the life leaving his eyes.

Without hesitation, Shisui flickered again, appearing behind another Iwa ninja. In one swift, precise motion, he slit the other man's throat, a spray of blood painting the air. It all happened so fast that the last two Iwa shinobi—the chunin and special jonin—could barely comprehend what had just occurred.

The special jonin's eyes, sharp and calculating, flickered with realization. His jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as he pieced it together. "A double-layered genjutsu…" he growled, his voice low and eyes dark as the night sky. "There aren't many who can pull that off."

The chunin, however, wasn't as composed. Her face contorted in horror as she gasped, her eyes locking onto the blood-stained bodies of her fallen comrades. Panic surged through her, and she fumbled for her weapon, but before she could make a move, Shisui appeared in front of her again, his two-tomoe Sharingan spinning with a deadly calm.

Before Shisui could deliver the finishing blow, the special jonin lunged at him, his sword gleaming as it arced through the air. "You Uchiha brat!" he roared, swinging his blade with all his strength, aiming to decapitate Shisui in one savage strike.

But Reika was faster.

In a blur of motion, she intercepted the jonin's attack, her kunai meeting his sword with a sharp clang. Sending sparks flying as metal clashed against metal, the force of the impact reverberating through the clearing.

"Not so fast," Reika said coolly, her voice steady and authoritative. Her eyes never left the special jonin as she held him at bay. "Shiro, Shisui—finish the chunin. Now."

The woman's face paled. She hadn't even realized there were two of us. Her eyes darted back to Shisui, her fear palpable. "Another… kid?" she whispered, disbelief and terror mingling in her voice as I dropped from the trees, my Sharingan glowing crimson in the forest. She had been so focused on Shisui that she hadn't realized there could be another attacker.

Meanwhile, the special jonin spat at the ground, his anger flaring as he struggled against Reika's kunai. "To think I'd fall into a double-layered genjutsu… from a woman!" His voice dripped with venom as he locked eyes with Reika.

Reika's expression darkened, her sneer cutting through the air like a blade. "You're wrong," she said coldly, her kunai pressing harder against his sword. "I didn't put you under that genjutsu."

The jonin's eyes flicked toward her in confusion before widening in shock. His gaze darted over to me. Reika's sneer deepened as she spoke the words that pushed him further off the deep end.

"My student did."

The special jonin's face contorted with disbelief as he glanced between Reika and me. "No, there's no way a kid could've used a genjutsu of that caliber," he muttered.

I smiled as I heard the disbelief in his voice. 'Hardly any of the clansmen I train with believed it either before I showed them.'

"He's practically a toddler—his chakra control shouldn't be nearly that good." His eyes widened as Reika, taking advantage of his momentary distraction, slipped under his guard and slashed her kunai toward his neck. The jonin barely managed to retreat in time, a look of concern now settling on his face.

I didn't respond to that comment, there was no need. Shisui and I exchanged a quick glance, moving as one, our synchronization flawless from the months of intense training we'd undergone together. His Sharingan locked onto the chunin's trembling eyes, casting a genjutsu so quickly that she didn't even have time to react. Her body froze, her breath catching as the illusion took hold. 

Without hesitation, I moved in. My sword gleamed in the fading light as I closed the distance between us. The strike was swift and precise—just one clean motion across her neck, and it was over. The chunin collapsed in a heap, the fight leaving her body as her life slipped away.

We didn't waste time. Shisui and I turned our attention back to Reika, who was still engaged in combat with the special jonin. Her movements were quick and calculated, her kunai deflecting his sword strikes with a ringing clash of metal. Despite his obvious skill, Reika was holding her own and pushing him into a corner. 

Without a word, Shisui flickered forward again, his speed becoming even faster as he closed in on the man. I stayed a step behind, making hand signs as I prepared a great fireball jutsu. 

The special jonin's eyes flicked between us, his narrowed gaze filled with frustration. He glanced at the bodies of his fallen comrades, then back at Reika, Shisui, and me. The realization of his situation dawned on him, the hopelessness of it all. "I'll be back," he spat, retreating a few steps. "You kids… you're not worth dying for today. But I'll remember this. I'll report back to the field general—and the Tsuchikage himself will hear about this."

And with that, he disappeared into the ground, vanishing as quickly as he had come. Shisui and I tensed, ready to pursue, but Reika's hand shot up, stopping us in our tracks.

"Let him go," she commanded, her voice calm and composed. "We have a mission to complete."

Part of me wanted to chase him down, to finish what we had started, but Reika was right. Our mission wasn't about taking down every enemy we encountered, it was about delivering the supplies, about making sure our comrades on the frontlines had what they needed to survive.

Reluctantly, we fell back into formation, moving swiftly toward the Land of Fire's outpost. The adrenaline from the battle still pulsed through my veins, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the task ahead.