Chapter 154 – March to the Mist

Chapter 154 – March to the Mist

The sea wind was cold that morning, carrying the sharp smell of salt and wet stone. Waves rolled and broke against the rocky shore, sending fine spray into the air. From the coastline, a single figure moved with slow, steady steps toward the distant cliffs where the gates of Kirigakure stood.

Hajime didn’t hide himself. The grey plates of his thick armor caught what little light made it through the mist, making him stand out against the pale fog. His tall frame moved without hurry, his stride confident and even. The sound of the sea was soon joined by the heavy, steady thud of his boots on the wet path.

Kirigakure was not a land that welcomed visitors easily. The village was hidden behind layers of cliffs and thick mist, with patrols moving constantly along its borders. They didn’t get much news from the outside. Most shinobi here had never left the Land of Water, and stories from the other great villages were just rumors told by sailors and traders.

That’s why the first patrol didn’t know who they were looking at.

From a high ledge above the path, five shinobi watched Hajime’s approach. They saw only a stranger, huge, heavily armored, walking straight toward their territory like he owned it. To them, this was just an unknown intruder. They didn’t know about the man’s strength, his ties to Konoha, or what he had done in other lands.

One of them stepped forward. “Hey! Stop right there! State your name and your purpose!” His voice echoed faintly through the fog.

Hajime didn’t stop. His eyes stayed forward, his boots pressing into the wet stone as if the patrol wasn’t there at all.

The shinobi frowned. “I said stop!” He gave a quick hand signal, and the group dropped down from the ledge to block the path. Their weapons came out, short blades and kunai, ready in their hands.

The air between them felt heavier now, though none of them could explain why.

“Turn back,” another warned. “No one passes this way without clearance from the village. If you keep walking, we’ll–”

The sentence cut short as Hajime kept moving, his presence pressing against them like a silent wall.

The squad leader clenched his jaw. “Fine. Have it your way.” He moved his hands in a blur of seals. “Water Style: Water Shuriken!”

Thin, spinning blades of water sliced toward Hajime. He didn’t flinch. In one smooth motion, he drew the heavy weapon from his side. The sharp bark of the bolter echoed against the cliffs.

The lead shinobi dropped instantly, the shot punching through his shoulder and knocking him into the water. Another tried to rush in with a kunai, but Hajime’s next shot sent him sprawling into the dirt.

The rest hesitated for only a second before attacking together, water whips snapping through the air, more blades of water spinning toward him. Hajime’s boots shifted slightly as he sidestepped, each movement precise. Every counter-shot found its mark. In moments, the path was littered with groaning bodies.

He kept walking.

By now, word was moving through the outer patrol lines. An unknown intruder was cutting through their guards. More squads rushed toward the coastal road, each thinking they could stop him.

The second group was larger, eight shinobi, some wearing jōnin flak jackets. They didn’t call out a warning. They attacked from both sides of the path, aiming to overwhelm him.

Water dragons rose from the mist, jaws open wide, crashing toward him in roaring torrents. Hajime moved with inhuman speed, twisting aside as his bolter fired again and again. The dragons broke apart into waves that splashed harmlessly against the cliffs. One shinobi tried to come at him from behind, only to collapse as a shot hit his leg.

It was the same with the third group, and the fourth. Every time, Hajime moved forward at the same pace, his stride never breaking. The road behind him was now scattered with broken weapons, unconscious bodies, and the faint red of blood mixing with the puddles left by the sea spray.

To the ordinary shinobi of Kirigakure, this was just a nightmare appearing out of nowhere. They didn’t know his name, only that he was unstoppable.

But inside the village, the high command was already on alert.

Terumi Mei, the Fifth Mizukage, stood at the main gate. Beside her were Ao, Chōjūrō, and several of her best guards. Unlike the rank-and-file shinobi, they knew exactly who was coming.

Mei knows information of Hajime Years ago, with his achievement of capturing a jinchūriki and defeating Kumogakure. His size alone made him impossible to mistake, taller than any man she’d seen, clad in thick grey armor that looked nothing like shinobi gear. And his reputation… dangerous, direct, and known to act without hesitation.

Ao’s single visible eye was fixed on the path ahead. “That’s him,” he said quietly. “The one Who defeated Kumogakure.”

Chōjūrō swallowed hard, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. “He’s… huge.”

“He’s dangerous,” Ao corrected.

The sound of boots on wet stone grew louder until Hajime emerged from the mist, the heavy gates of Kirigakure rising behind the Mizukage and her guards. He stopped only a few steps from them. The road behind him told its own story, bodies, weapons, and the thin mist of sea air thickened with the metallic smell of blood.

Mei’s eyes narrowed. “Disciple of the Hokage… you come to my village and leave this trail behind you. Why? Why attack my shinobi without cause?”

Hajime’s voice was calm, the low tone carrying through the fog. “You follow your Daimyō’s orders to prepare for war against Konoha. That makes you Konoha’s enemy.”

Mei’s expression tightened. “We have made no attack. No declaration of war. And for this, you kill my people?”

Hajime’s head tilted slightly. “Your silence means nothing when your blades are being sharpened. I don’t wait for the swing before I act.”

The tension in the air grew. Several guards shifted their footing, readying themselves.

Then Hajime spoke again, his voice dropping lower. “Surrender to Konoha now, and your village will survive. Refuse, and I will destroy Kirigakure. I don’t leave threats behind.”

The pressure that rolled off him was almost physical. Even the elite guards beside Mei found it hard to keep their stance.

For a long moment, the only sound was the wind moving the mist around them.

Mei’s jaw tightened. She didn’t move, but her eyes stayed locked on him, weighing every possible choice. Ao’s gaze flicked between them, and Chōjūrō’s grip on his sword hilt didn’t loosen.

The silence stretched, and the next moment would decide whether the village lived or burned.