Reiji stayed low, his breathing uneven as he watched the treeline ahead, every shadow stretched and distorted by the fading heat still clinging to the air. The smell of burned fabric and scorched earth hung thick around him, mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood that hadn't left his mouth since the explosion. For a moment—just a moment—nothing moved. No sound but the distant crackle of cooling ground and the faint rustle of leaves disturbed by residual heat.
So what now?
The thought came slower than it should have, dulled by pain and the lingering echo of adrenaline still hammering through his chest. He hadn't expected it to work. Not really. What he'd done—what he'd forced through in those few seconds—had been nothing more than a desperate gamble strung together on instinct and fragments of observation. And yet… it had been enough. Enough to kill a jōnin and his partner in a sequence so brief it barely felt real.
Those seconds stretched in his memory, longer than anything he'd lived through before.
He shifted slightly, teeth tightening as pain flared from his shoulder. The wound there throbbed deep and sharp where the kunai had pierced through earlier, each small movement pulling at torn muscle. His palm stung as well—raw, split, the skin broken where he had forced chakra through it under strain. His jaw ached from earlier impacts, a dull, constant pressure that made even breathing feel uneven. And his throat—burned from the inside—felt tight and dry, every inhale scraping.
Still… he was alive.
His gaze dropped briefly to his hands.
Ice clung to them in thin, fading layers, already melting into droplets that slid along his skin. He brushed it away with his thumb, slow, deliberate, his eyes narrowing slightly as he inspected the surface beneath.
No frostbite.
No stiffness.
Nothing.
Only the shallow cuts and the deeper puncture in his palms—but none of the damage he should have had by the ice.
For a second, the thought caught.
Is it the bloodline…? My ice… or ice in general?
The question lingered just long enough to register, then he pushed it aside with a sharp exhale. Not now.
His head lifted again, gaze locking forward.
Inoto hadn't moved far. Even at this distance, Reiji could make out the silhouette—still, controlled, Kushina slung over his shoulder, his posture unchanged despite the damage he'd taken. He wasn't rushing. He wasn't searching blindly.
He was waiting.
Reiji's eyes narrowed slightly.
He won't underestimate me again.
That changed everything.
What had worked before—the surprise, the lack of information, the opening created by doubt—was gone. Inoto knew what he could do now. Knew enough to avoid the same mistakes. And against a jōnin who stayed calm under pressure… that meant there would be no easy opening, no careless movement to exploit.
Reiji's fingers pressed together slowly, forming a brief, tight seal as chakra gathered, thin and controlled despite the instability running through his body.
My only chance… is Hyōton: Hōshō.
Something precise. Fast. Lethal.
Anything less wouldn't be enough.
The thought had barely settled when something struck the ground to his right with a dull, unmistakable thud.
Reiji's head snapped toward it.
A kunai.
Paper tag already igniting.
His pupils contracted.
There was no time to think.
The explosion tore through the space beside him with a violent surge of heat and force, the shockwave slamming into his side hard enough to throw him off balance even as he forced chakra through his body and vanished in a blur—reappearing several meters away in a rough, uneven landing that jarred straight through his legs. His feet slid against the dirt, loose soil giving way under the abrupt stop as he barely caught himself from falling.
Heat followed.
His sleeves were scorched through, skin beneath already reddening, patches of fabric still smoldering as he forced them down with a quick, sharp motion.
That was close—
"Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!"
The voice cut through the air without warning.
Reiji's head snapped up.
The fireball was already there.
It surged forward like a collapsing wave of flame, wide and dense, its surface rippling with compressed heat that distorted the air around it. The ground beneath it blackened instantly, grass curling and igniting in its wake as it tore through the distance faster than anything he could properly track.
He can still use jutsu…?
There was no time to process it.
No time to move.
Reiji inhaled sharply, ignoring the immediate burn in his throat as he forced chakra upward, splitting it instinctively before merging it under pressure.
"Hyōton: Hyōsoku!"
Cold erupted from his lungs.
The breath left him in a sharp, focused stream—white, dense, and unstable—colliding with the incoming fire in a violent reaction that shattered the air between them. Steam exploded outward on impact, thick and blinding, the clash of opposing temperatures sending shockwaves through the vapor as the fire didn't stop—it pressed through.
The cold carved into it, tearing a narrow path, but the flames swallowed the edges immediately.
Reiji stepped into it anyway.
Heat crashed over him, searing against his skin as the fire surged around the opening he had forced, licking across his arms, his shoulders, the side of his face. The air itself burned to breathe, his chest tightening as his exhale stuttered under the strain, the technique threatening to collapse under the pressure.
Not enough—
He forced more chakra into it.
The stream thickened for a fraction of a second, pushing the flames back just enough to hold the space around him.
But it wouldn't last.
And he knew it.
If I stop here… I die.
His thoughts didn't slow.
They sharpened.
I can't let him dictate the flow of the battle.
That was the truth of it. If he only defended—if he only reacted—then the moment this technique ended, Inoto would be on him.
And it would be over.
So he chose.
Even as the fire pressed in, even as his control wavered under the strain, Reiji moved.
He didn't stop the breath.
He couldn't.
Instead—
He brought his hands together.
Palms pressed, fingers aligned in a tight, prayer-like seal, forced into position in the middle of the inferno. Chakra split again—unstable, rushed, tearing through pathways already strained to their limit. The balance faltered for a fraction of a second, wind and water colliding unevenly—
He forced it back under control.
Cold gathered between his hands.
His breath continued, carving just enough space in the fire to keep him alive while the second technique took shape. The strain compounded instantly—his chest tightening, his head pounding, the sensation of his control slipping at the edges as both jutsu pulled at him at once.
Too much.
Too fast.
But he didn't stop.
The fire finally collapsed.
The technique ended in a surge of vapor, thick steam erupting outward and swallowing the space around him. The sudden shift left his ears ringing, his body staggering forward slightly as the pressure vanished all at once.
Mist surrounded him.
Hot. Dense. Blinding.
Reiji's breathing broke for a fraction of a second before he forced it steady again, his stance adjusting instinctively—one foot sliding back through damp soil, weight lowering, palms already raised with cold mist escaping from it.
The second technique was ready.
He'll come.
He didn't hesitate.
His hands rose, palms open, body turning slightly as he adjusted his footing—one foot sliding back through the wet soil, knees bending to stabilize his center of gravity. His weight shifted forward despite the pain, ready to intercept, ready to strike the moment Inoto entered range.
A presence cut through the mist behind him.
Fast.
Direct.
Reiji pivoted instantly, his palm already moving—
The vapor split.
Kushina.
Her body came at him with full momentum, thrown hard, her weight and speed enough that stopping her outright would snap his balance if he misjudged it.
His eyes widened.
There was no time to think.
His arms moved on instinct, catching her awkwardly with the back of his hands, his grip adjusting mid-motion to avoid direct contact—
Reiji felt it before he understood it.
A sharp, wet resistance—
Steel sliding into flesh.
His body locked.
His gaze dropped.
Kushina's hand was buried against his abdomen, fingers clenched tight around the handle of a kunai driven deep into his stomach. Blood had already begun to spread across the fabric of his kimono, dark and immediate, the heat of it seeping through before the pain fully registered.
His breath caught.
Slow.
Delayed.
His eyes lifted.
Her violet eyes—usually bright, restless, alive—were empty. Flat. Unmoving. No hesitation. No confusion. Just stillness.
Wrong.
A voice came from her mouth.
Familiar.
But not hers.
"I knew you still cared for the girl, despite trying to make me believe otherwise."
The kunai twisted.
Pain detonated through his abdomen as the blade shifted inside him, tearing deeper before being ripped free in a single, violent motion. The sudden loss of resistance sent his body forward, knees buckling as the strength left his legs all at once. Kushina slipped from his grasp as he dropped, one hand catching himself against the ground freezing it.
Warmth spilled through his abdomen.
Too much.
Too fast.
His stomach lurched.
Something rose in his throat—
He turned his head just in time, blood spilling from his mouth in a thick, choking cough that left his vision swimming. His grip on the ground tightened, nails dragging through the ice as he forced himself to stay upright .
Focus.
He didn't look at her.
Didn't look at the wound.
Instead, his hand shot forward, fingers catching the fabric of her sweatpants.
Cold surged.
Faint at first, then spreading.
Ice crept along the material where he held it, the frost forming unevenly as his control faltered under the strain.
"Are you sure…?" he muttered, his voice low, rough, barely steady.
The paper tags across his chest flickered at the edges, their seals already beginning to burn.
Kushina's eyes widened.
For a second, nothing moved.
Then she blinked.
And the emptiness shattered.
"Reiji—"
He released her immediately.
His hand snapped back to his own body, palm pressing hard against his chest as he forced chakra downward. Cold spread violently through the fabric of his kimono, freezing the papers tags solid along with the inner layers beneath, the frost biting deep as it sealed over the wound. The bleeding slowed—not stopped, but contained enough to keep him from spilling is guts.
His breath came sharp and uneven.
Kushina stumbled back, staring at her hands, at the kunai slick with blood. Her fingers trembled before she dropped it, the weapon hitting the ground with a dull, hollow sound.
"I—I… it wasn't me—"
"I know," Reiji muttered, his voice flat, distant, as if the words cost him more than they should have.
He didn't look at her.
His eyes were already scanning.
The smoke from the earlier clash was still dispersing slowly through the trees, thin strands drifting between trunks as the air shifted. Reiji's arm moved almost on its own, fingers slipping into his pouch and pulling free a kunai already wrapped with a tag.
He threw it without hesitation.
The blade cut through the thinning mist in a straight, controlled line.
Then—
Boom.
The explosion tore through the trees with a sharp, contained blast, bark splintering as the shockwave rippled outward. Leaves and debris scattered violently, branches shaking under the force as smoke and dust were kicked into the air, briefly obscuring everything beyond.
Through the settling debris—
He saw him.
Inoto landed lightly on a nearby branch, one foot touching down without a sound as he absorbed the motion effortlessly. His posture remained balanced despite the visible strain—his breathing heavier now, his clothes and skin scorched in places from the earlier exchange. He looked exhausted.
But not careless.
Not even close.
"I suggest you stop struggling, boy," Inoto said calmly, voice carrying easily across the distance. "It will just make it more painful for you."
Reiji exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing his breathing to steady despite the pressure building in his chest. His body felt distant now, the sharpness of pain already fading into something duller, less precise.
"For me…" he replied, voice quieter but steady, "…or for you?"
He shifted his weight slightly, adjusting his stance despite the instability in his legs. The ground beneath him felt uneven, his balance slower to respond than before, but it held.
"For a jōnin…" he added, a faint edge creeping into his tone, "…you're in a pretty pathetic state. Especially against an brat like me."
Inoto's eyebrow lifted slightly.
"You are more dangerous than I expected," he admitted without hesitation. "Tenacious, too." A small pause followed, his gaze sharpening. "But I understand how you think now."
Reiji didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
"In the next exchange," Inoto continued evenly, "you die."
Kushina shifted beside him.
Reiji could feel it without looking—the uneven rhythm of her breathing, the tension in her posture, the way she hovered between staying and running without committing to either.
"What?" he said lightly, eyes still locked on Inoto. "Not planning to curry favor with your Raikage anymore?"
"No." Inoto's tone didn't change. "I'll kill you now. Delivering you to your grandfather would have been… satisfying. But circumstances change."
He dropped from the branch.
The landing was silent.
Measured.
He didn't rush.
Reiji's gaze flicked once—briefly—toward Kushina.
"Do you know any jutsu?" he asked.
"No…" she whispered, voice unsteady.
"…Right."
A beat passed.
"What do we do?" she asked, her voice smaller now, trembling under the weight of everything around them.
Reiji turned his head.
Really looked at her this time.
Her eyes were wide, unfocused, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. Her body shook despite her effort to hold still, fingers curling uselessly at her sides as she tried to make sense of something far beyond her.
Just a child.
Not a shinobi.
Not ready.
He watched her for a second longer than he should have.
Then turned away.
"Run," he said.
"…What?"
"I said run." His tone didn't rise. "Are you deaf?"
"But—what about you?"
"Don't worry about me."
"Rei—"
The kunai stopped an inch from her face.
Reiji's hand didn't shake.
His gaze was flat. Cold.
"Go," he said quietly. "Or I'll kill you myself."
Her lips trembled. For a moment it looked like she might argue—might say something else—but the words never came. Her teeth clenched instead, and a second later she turned and ran, her steps uneven at first before disappearing into the trees.
Silence settled again.
"You know I'll find her," Inoto said.
"Yeah."
Reiji didn't look back.
His vision dimmed slightly at the edges, the world narrowing as the numbness spread further through his body. The pain had dulled almost completely now, replaced by something worse—something empty.
Coward.
The thought came without resistance.
He knew what awaited her.
Knew what should have been done.
And still—
He hadn't done it.
His grip tightened around the kunai in his hand, the weight of it grounding in a way nothing else did.
His breathing steadied.
Not because he was fine.
But because there was nothing left to hesitate over.
I'm not walking out of this.
The realization settled cleanly.
No fear followed it.
Only disappointment.
I'm a failure… as a shinobi.
His stance lowered slightly, feet adjusting against the uneven ground as he prepared himself for what came next.
The next exchange would decide everything.
Reiji felt it settle in his chest with a clarity that cut through the haze of pain and fatigue. His breathing was uneven, shallow from the burn in his throat and the tightness in his chest, but his focus sharpened anyway, narrowing entirely on the figure ahead.
If he catches me… I'm dead..
Inoto moved first.
A twitch—barely perceptible.
Then he was gone.
The air shifted an instant later as his body blurred forward, speed collapsing the distance between them faster than Reiji could track.
"Hyōton: Hyōsoku."
Reiji didn't wait.
Cold burst from his lungs in a focused stream, the breath cutting forward toward the approaching figure. Frost spread instantly across the ground where it passed, thin at first, then thickening into jagged ice that cracked and crawled outward across the dirt.
Inoto didn't slow.
He shifted left.
The movement was sharp, efficient—no wasted motion—as he stepped out of the direct path of the breath, his foot barely touching the ground before pushing off again. The ice surged up where he had been a fraction too late to catch him, freezing empty space as he slipped past it.
Reiji adjusted immediately.
His head turned, shoulders following as he pivoted, the stream of cold dragging across the ground in a sweeping arc. The frost followed his aim, spreading wider now, locking the terrain under a thin, uneven layer that creaked under its own formation.
Inoto kept moving.
He didn't rush straight in again.
He circled.
Fast.
His path curved along the edge of the growing ice field, feet striking and pushing off in rapid succession as he tested angles, probing for an opening without committing fully. Each step was measured, controlled, his center low and balanced despite the unstable ground forming beneath him.
Reiji tracked him with the breath, adjusting constantly, the stream cutting across his path to deny space.
Inoto wasn't trying to break through.
He was waiting.
For a mistake.
The ice spread further with each second, crawling outward in fractured lines, the ground turning slick and uneven under the rapid temperature shift. Reiji could feel the strain building in his chest, his breath growing harsher as he maintained the technique, but he didn't stop.
Inoto closed the distance anyway.
Step by step.
A flicker of motion—his hand moved.
Shuriken cut through the air.
A rapid flurry, angles tight and controlled, the projectiles spinning toward Reiji in overlapping trajectories.
Reiji didn't break the breath.
He angled it.
Cold swept upward, catching the incoming steel mid-flight. Frost snapped across their surfaces instantly, the rotation slowing as ice formed unevenly along their edges before locking them in place. The projectiles dropped uselessly, striking the frozen ground with dull, scattered impacts.
Too many.
Too fast.
Reiji shifted back.
His foot landed on ice.
For a fraction of a second, his balance wavered—but chakra surged to his sole immediately, anchoring him in place before the slip could fully take hold. He pushed off, cutting the breath for the briefest instant as he created space, his body moving in a short, controlled retreat to avoid being boxed in.
His eyes snapped forward.
Inoto was gone.
The space where he had been was empty.
Where—
A shift.
Subtle.
Left.
Reiji dropped instantly.
The kick passed over him with enough force to tear through the air, the pressure of it dragging at his hair as it missed by inches. The ground beneath where his head had been cracked under the impact, ice fracturing outward in jagged lines.
No pause.
The follow-up came immediately.
Reiji barely had time to bring his arms up.
The second strike crashed into his guard, force driving through his forearms and into his shoulders as his stance broke. His feet slid violently across the ice, friction lost as the impact launched him backward, tearing through the frozen surface in a spray of shattered fragments.
His back hit the ground hard.
Air left his lungs in a sharp burst.
He didn't stay down.
Momentum carried him into a roll, shoulder turning into the motion as he twisted away just as another kick came down where his head had been a second earlier. The impact shattered more ice, sending fragments skidding across the surface as he cleared the space.
Reiji pushed up into a low stance immediately, breath already coming again—
"Hyōton: Hyōsoku!"
Cold surged forward once more.
Inoto reacted instantly, pushing off the ground and retreating out of range, his body lifting just enough to clear the advancing frost. The edge of the breath caught him anyway—brief contact along his lower leg—ice snapping across the fabric of his pants before he tore free of it mid-motion.
Not enough to stop him.
But enough to slow him.
For a fraction of a second.
Inoto's hand moved.
A kunai flashed.
Reiji's eyes tracked it immediately.
wrapped around it—
A paper tag.
Already burning.
The world slowed.
Reiji saw it coming—too fast to stop, too close to avoid. The kunai spun once as it closed the last stretch of distance, the paper tag wrapped around its base already burning, its edges curling inward as the seal reached its final instant. Heat bled outward before the detonation, the air tightening around it, pressure building—
So this is it.
His body didn't move.
Couldn't.
The strength that had carried him this far was gone, spent in fragments across every decision he had forced through pain and instinct. His limbs felt distant, unresponsive, his balance already collapsing inward even as he stood. He felt the heat rise—felt it closing in—and for a moment, everything narrowed to a single point.
He closed his eyes.
Boom.
The explosion came.
But the pain didn't.
Instead—movement.
Abrupt.
Controlled.
His body shifted, lifted from the ground with a speed that snapped through what little awareness he had left. The force of it pulled at his wounds, dragging a weak sound from his throat as the world tilted, his sense of direction slipping. Air rushed past him, colder now, cleaner—away from the blast.
Then—
Stillness.
Reiji's eyes opened slowly, vision blurred at the edges as shapes struggled to resolve into something coherent. For a moment, all he could see were dark lines against fading light—motion where there shouldn't have been any.
Then it sharpened.
A face.
Black eyes, steady and focused, watching him closely. There was something in them—tension, restraint—but not panic. Not uncertainty.
Reiji blinked.
White hair framed the man's face, pulled back loosely, strands shifting with the movement of the air. His posture was straight, controlled, a flak jacket visible over his torso—standard issue, worn but intact, marked with faint scuffs and darker stains that spoke of repeated use. The weight of a short blade rested across his back, the hilt positioned high near his shoulder for a fast draw.
Recognition came late.
"Sakumo…?" The word barely left his mouth, thin and uneven.
"Don't talk," Sakumo said quietly.
His tone wasn't harsh. Just firm.
He lowered Reiji carefully, one hand steady at his back as he eased him down onto the ground. The contact was controlled, deliberate as he shifted immediately to assess the damage. His fingers moved to Reiji's kimono, pulling it open just enough to expose the wound beneath.
Reiji couldn't see it clearly.
But he saw the reaction.
A slight tightening at the edge of Sakumo's gaze. Not surprise.
Assessment.
Bad.
The thought barely formed before something shifted behind him.
Reiji's eyes widened.
Inoto.
He was already there—silent, precise, appearing behind Sakumo with a kunai raised high, the angle clean and direct toward the back of his skull.
Reiji tried to speak.
Tried to move.
Nothing came.
The strike fell—
—or should have.
Instead—
A wet sound cut through the air.
Inoto's arm remained raised.
But it wasn't attached.
Blood slipped from the severed edge in a steady line, the stump jagged for a fraction of a second before the flow thickened. The kunai fell from his hand, striking the ground without purpose.
Reiji's gaze shifted.
Sakumo's hand rested on the hilt of his blade.
Already drawn.
Already used.
Clink.
The sound came late, the steel sliding back into its sheath as if the motion had only just begun.
Inoto blurred backward, reappearing several meters away, his body unsteady as he clutched the stump with his remaining hand. His face had gone pale, but his lips still curved faintly—an expression that didn't match the damage.
"How did you find me already?" he asked, voice thinner now, but still steady.
Sakumo didn't answer.
He rose slowly, placing himself between Reiji and the threat without looking back.
Another presence entered.
Reiji caught it at the edge of his vision—a shift in the air, a weight settling into the space beside Sakumo.
Danzo stood there.
ANBU uniform—dark, fitted, built for movement. The fabric sat close to the body, reinforced at key points without adding bulk. His posture was straight, almost rigid, his presence colder than the night air beginning to settle around them. One visible eye remained sharp, unmoving, fixed entirely on Inoto as if measuring him.
"Why?" Danzo voice came, calm and cutting. "You really thought you could fool Konoha, Inoto?"
Inoto gave a weak chuckle.
"To be honest? Yes."
Sakumo's gaze didn't soften.
"Why did you do it?" he asked, a trace of something heavier beneath the words. "Why betray the village?"
"You already know why."
Danzo stepped forward half a pace.
"What does it matter?" he said flatly. "Whatever the reason—love, revenge, pride—it ends the same way." His eye narrowed slightly. "Death."
Inoto didn't respond immediately.
When he did, his voice had changed.
Quieter.
But clearer.
"I fought for this village," he said. "Gave it everything. Thought it was all I had." A faint smile touched his lips, empty this time. "My son was the only thing left after that. And they took that too."
Silence followed.
Reiji felt it press down around them, heavier than before.
"The man who killed him walks free," Inoto continued. "His crime… erased. Like it never mattered."
Sakumo's grip tightened slightly at his side.
"You really couldn't forget ?" he asked.
"How could I?" Inoto replied.
Danzo voice cut in.
"Are those your last words?"
Inoto exhaled slowly. Blood still ran from his stump, but he didn't seem to feel it anymore. His remaining hand moved, drawing another kunai from his pouch with steady precision.
"Kill him," Danzo said.
Sakumo hesitated for the briefest moment.
"Wouldn't it be better to capture him?" he asked quietly.
"He's a Yamanaka. And an elder," he replied. "He'll take everything with him. There's nothing to gain."
A pause.
Then Sakumo moved.
"Any last words?" he asked.
Inoto smiled.
"Takeda… looked up to you."
It happened too fast for Reiji to follow.
One moment Sakumo stood in front of him.
The next—
He was already behind Inoto.
The blade was back in its sheath.
And Inoto's body—
stood still for a fraction of a second.
Then his head slipped free.
It fell.
The body followed.
Reiji watched it happen through a narrowing tunnel of vision, the edges of the world darkening as his awareness slipped further away.
The last thing he saw before everything went black—
was Sakumo standing still.
Unmoving.
***
When he opened his eyes again, the sky had changed.
Dark now.
Clear.
Stars scattered across it in quiet patterns, distant and steady.
For a moment, he didn't understand where he was.
Then he felt it.
Warmth.
Not heat.
Something softer.
His gaze lowered slowly.
Hands rested against his body—pale, steady, emitting a soft green glow that pulsed faintly with each controlled breath. The chakra flowed evenly, precise, weaving through torn flesh and broken tissue with careful intent.
The pain was still there.
But distant.
Muted.
He followed the arms upward.
Blonde hair caught the faint light, shifting gently as a breeze passed through. It framed a face more composed than anything he had seen that day—sharp, focused, untouched by the chaos around them. Her eyes, a deep chestnut, remained fixed on her work, steady and unwavering as she guided the flow of chakra through his wounds.
Reiji watched her in silence.
His thoughts came slower now.
Fading.
She's… beautiful.
The idea barely formed before the darkness pulled him under again.