Blurred silhouettes dance in the blood-soaked mist of twilight. The ground trembles under the impact of jutsu techniques, while sparks of steel briefly illuminate the chakra-thickened air. Explosions follow one after another, sending sprays of dirt and debris in every direction.

  A silver flash cuts through the air — the reflection of the last rays of sunlight on a blade. The metallic clash of kunai echoes across the devastated clearing. War cries and screams of pain blend with the hissing of Suiton techniques and the rumble of detonations.

  Shugo Chinoike, breath ragged, surveys the scene through his Ketsuryūgan. His crimson pupils gleam with a sinister light in the growing dusk. His uniform, once deep black, is now soaked in blood — his own and his enemies'. A deep gash slashes across his left flank, where a Kumo ninja struck him with a Raiton technique.

  Beside him, his two teammates fare no better. Takeshi, an explosives specialist, barely stands, his right arm hanging uselessly. Kaori, their medical-nin, has nearly exhausted all her chakra just to keep them alive thus far.

  A new wave of enemies emerges from the trees — Chūnin from Kiri this time, recognizable by their distinctive masks. They join the Kumo forces already present, forming a deadly circle around the three Chinoike ninjas.

  "Surrender!" shouts one of the enemy leaders. "You're surrounded!"

  Shugo grits his teeth. His Ketsuryūgan throbs painfully, reacting to the blood saturating the battlefield. A terrible idea forms in his exhausted mind. His gaze falls on the open wounds of his opponents, then on his teammates.

  Time seems to freeze as he makes his decision. His trembling hands form a sequence of hand signs he never thought he'd use against his own comrades. "Forgive me," he murmurs.

  His Ketsuryūgan glows with a sinister light. The blood in Takeshi and Kaori's veins begins to boil, drawing screams of agony. In a fraction of a second, their bodies become living bombs, the very blood inside them turned into deadly explosives.

  The ensuing blast is devastating, raining crimson across the enemy ninjas, whose open wounds ignite in a gruesome chain reaction.

  "How did it come to this?" whispers Shugo, as the dying screams fill the twilight air.

  The minutes leading up to this fateful decision are seared into Shugo's memory. The fight had begun two hours earlier when their squad fell into an ambush.

  At first, they held their own. Shugo's Ketsuryūgan gave them the advantage, allowing him to anticipate enemy movements. Takeshi had taken out three Kumo ninjas with a single blast, while Kaori stayed behind her teammates, providing support with healing techniques.

  But the enemy reinforcements were endless. For every fallen ninja, two more appeared. A particularly vicious Suiton technique pierced Shugo's shoulder, narrowly missing his heart. Kaori used up half her chakra just to keep him alive.

  Then came the coordinated attack — a barrage of Raiton techniques that lit the sky like artificial lightning. Takeshi lost his right arm shielding Kaori. She, in a desperate effort to save him, used nearly all her remaining chakra. Her hands now trembled, unable to form proper medical seals.

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  The enemies harried them relentlessly. A poisoned kunai sliced Shugo's thigh, making him stumble. An explosion flung him against a tree, likely cracking several ribs. His vision blurred intermittently, blood streaming from a deep gash on his forehead.

  Kaori fell first, a shuriken lodged in her back. Takeshi dragged her to cover, but his infected arm had taken on a sickly green hue. His once-prized explosive techniques grew weaker as his chakra dwindled.

  A Kiri ninja emerged from the shadows, driving a katana through Takeshi's abdomen. Shugo reacted on instinct, detonating the enemy's blood vessels with his Ketsuryūgan. But it was too late. Takeshi's blood pooled on the ground, mingling with Kaori's.

  "We... we're not getting out of this, are we?" Takeshi muttered, blood bubbling from his mouth. Kaori, barely conscious, gave a faint whimper.

  The enemy ranks tightened. Shugo could see their victorious grins behind their masks. Some were already preparing jutsu for the final assault. His Ketsuryūgan revealed every drop of blood, every injury, every life slowly slipping away.

  Then the terrible idea took root. A forbidden technique from the Chinoike clan's secret archives — the ability to turn blood into an explosive weapon. He had never dared use it before, deeming it inhuman. But now...

  His trembling hands, coated in blood and mud, began to form the fatal hand signs. A single tear of blood fell from his left eye as he looked one last time at his comrades.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "So sorry..."

  The explosion rocked the entire forest, sending shockwaves that uprooted nearby trees. The twilight sky flared crimson, as the screams of the enemy shinobi echoed through the valley. Shugo, shielded by a last-second chakra barrier, was hurled backward by the force.

  The dismembered bodies of his foes rained down, some still twitching grotesquely. The metallic stench of blood mingled with the smell of burnt flesh. His Ketsuryūgan throbbed painfully, reacting to the overwhelming presence of blood in the air.

  His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees. Takeshi and Kaori's faces already haunted his mind. Their final expressions, filled with pain and confusion, would torment him for the rest of his life. He had sacrificed his own teammates, turned their bodies into weapons. A line he never thought he would cross.

  Tears of blood ran down his cheeks, carving red trails into his dirt-streaked face. His Ketsuryūgan refused to deactivate, forcing him to witness the horror he had created. Every corpse, every severed limb, every pool of blood glowed unnaturally in his altered vision.

  "I had to... I must survive at any cost!" he whispered to himself, but the words rang hollow.

  A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat, morphing into sobs. He pounded the ground with his fists until his knuckles bled, adding his own blood to the carnage. Guilt and horror washed over him in waves, threatening to drive him mad.

  The silence that followed was deafening. Even the birds were quiet, as if nature itself recoiled from what had happened. Only the crackle of burning trees disturbed the macabre peace.

  His trembling hands quickly formed a sequence of hand signs. An Earth jutsu buried the remnants of the explosion deep underground. He couldn't leave evidence. No one could know what really happened.

  In his report, he would say they died in battle, overwhelmed by numbers. That Takeshi and Kaori fought bravely to the end. That he survived by a miracle. The lie already burned in his throat, but it was the only option.

  His Ketsuryūgan scanned for every last trace of blood, erasing them one by one. The bodies of his teammates now rested in an unmarked grave, mixed with those of their enemies. A shameful burial for their sacrifice.

  He took a few minutes to tend to his most visible wounds. His uniform was in tatters — it would make his story more believable. The untreated gashes would testify to the battle's intensity.

  As he prepared to return to the village, Shugo knew his life would never be the same. He would carry this secret to his grave, live each day under the weight of his betrayal. Smile at the families of his comrades while knowing the truth.

  "I will bear this burden," he murmured into the evening air. "This is my punishment for surviving."

  He cast one last glance at the ruined clearing, now unrecognizable. Tomorrow, the rain would wash away the final traces. Nature would reclaim the land. But in his mind, the scene would remain forever — an invisible scar only his Ketsuryūgan would always see.

  "...How did it come to this?"