The leader of the Takigakure shinobi could only watch in horror as his last remaining teammate
turned and ran
, tripping over his own feet in desperation.
"Shit! I told you not to mess with this monster!" the fleeing shinobi cursed, his breath ragged as he tore through the underbrush. His heart pounded violently in his chest. His teammate had been cut down
before his eyes
—not with some flashy jutsu, but with a simple
swing
of a blade.
No hand seals. No chants. No warning.
The thought alone sent chills down his spine. He didn't need to stay and fight.
He needed to get out of here.
But before he could even hope to escape, a lazy voice rang behind him.
"Want to run?"
Youyu's tone was
bored
, as if the idea of letting him go was a
personal insult
. His grip on his
sword
tightened slightly.
If you're going to pick a fight, at least have the decency to stick around and get cut properly.
He sighed.
"Fine. Let's see who's faster—your legs or my slash."
With that, his sword left its sheath.
A sharp
ring
filled the air.
The moment the blade was unsheathed, the fleeing shinobi felt
paralyzed.
His body, his legs—
nothing moved.
It was as if the very act of drawing that sword had locked him in place.
His eyes
widened in terror
.
He
couldn't breathe.
He
couldn't move.
And then he saw it.
A
glowing slash
, deep purple-black in color,
tore through the air like a beast unleashed.
It roared toward him, splitting through trees, dirt, and even
the air itself.
The very pressure of the technique sent a powerful gust through the forest, kicking up leaves and snapping branches.
He was dead.
He barely had time to scream before the slash
cut straight through his body.
Blood sprayed, severed limbs flew, and his lifeless remains
crashed
into the dirt.
Youyu exhaled, sheathing his sword with a
satisfied smirk.
Back in the
observation room
, the assembled jōnin from various villages watched the scene unfold in
stunned silence.
A shinobi from Amegakure finally swallowed hard. "That was... a flying slash."
Murmurs spread throughout the room.
A ranged sword attack.
That was something only a handful of sword masters in history had ever demonstrated. It was
not
something a kid should be doing.
The shinobi from Amegakure
shook slightly
. His village still carried the scars from the Second Shinobi War, where they had been crushed between the warring great nations. He had seen devastation up close, and there was one name forever burned into his memory.
Konoha's White Fang.
This wasn't just another strong Konoha shinobi. This was
something much worse.
The realization that another
White Fang-level swordsman
might be emerging sent a deep unease through the room.
Jiraiya, however, just chuckled. "Not bad, not bad. No wonder the old man's been keeping an eye on him."
He had investigated Youyu before.
No official training.
No famous mentor. No secret clan techniques.
Nothing.
Everything this brat had accomplished, he had done
on his own.
Jiraiya's lips curled into a small smirk.
A pure prodigy, huh?
Meanwhile, Fuguki Suikazan, the former wielder of Samehada,
gritted his teeth.
"Konoha's bastards really hid this one well." His mood soured as he compared Youyu's strength to his own subordinate, Kisame.
That brat better not embarrass me.
Back in the
Forest of Death
, Youyu hummed to himself, stretching his arms as he stepped over the
piles of severed limbs.
A
familiar ringing
echoed in his head.
Ding! After drinking, you have killed one Takigakure shinobi.
+10 to Physique
+10 to Chakra
Ding! After drinking, you have killed one Takigakure shinobi.
+15 to Kendo comprehension
And then, a final notification.
Ding! Congratulations on your first kill after drinking!
Reward: Three-Color Haki Unlocked!
Youyu paused.
"Three-Color Haki?"
He scratched his chin, suddenly feeling a bit
more sober.
The
power of Haki
wasn't something he had considered before, but as the information filled his mind, his smirk widened.
Armament Haki.
A defensive and offensive enhancement that allowed him to coat his body—or his sword—in an indestructible force. It could even
counter ninjutsu
when mastered.
Observation Haki.
A form of awareness that allowed him to sense enemies beyond his vision, predict attacks, and—if mastered—
even see into the future.
Conqueror's Haki.
A power possessed only by those with the
spirit of a king
. The weak would collapse simply by being in his presence. If trained, it could cause
physical destruction
to the environment around him.
Youyu
grinned.
"Yeah... this is good stuff."
He clenched his fist experimentally. The power felt
new
, but at the same time,
it fit him perfectly.
He thought back to his fight with Obito earlier. The brat had given him
nowhere near this kind of reward.
Youyu scoffed.
What a disappointment.
But these guys? This was
much better.
At that moment, a nervous
whimper
came from nearby.
Turning his head, Youyu
finally remembered something.
"Oh yeah... I forgot about you."
A few feet away, the
last surviving Taki-nin
, their leader, was shaking so violently it was a miracle he was still standing.
His eyes were
wide with terror
. His hands clutched at his
own throat
, trying to keep himself from
screaming in fear.
He had hoped—
prayed
—that Youyu would just move on and forget about him.
Now, under Youyu's gaze, he felt
his body go numb.
"You don't have to kill me!" the shinobi
begged
, his voice breaking. "I'll give you my scroll! I'll—"
A
thin red line
appeared across his throat.
His mouth opened and closed as if trying to say something, but no words came.
Then, his
head fell to the ground.
Youyu
exhaled
, sliding his sword back into its sheath. "I don't need your damn scrolls."
His
goal was simple
.
He wasn't here for the exam.
He was here to
cut people down.
Ding! After drinking, you have killed one Takigakure shinobi.
+10 to Physique!
+10 to Armament Haki!
Youyu's
eyes gleamed.
So
killing people boosted Haki too?
Observation and Conqueror's Haki still needed to be developed, but this was
way easier than training.
Practice?
What a joke.
Why waste time training when he could just
cut people down and get stronger?
Humming to himself, Youyu casually stepped over the bodies and strolled deeper into the
Forest of Death.
Back in the
observation room
, silence filled the air.
The screen still displayed the
carnage
Youyu had left behind—severed limbs, pools of blood, a battlefield left in
absolute ruin.
No
techniques.
No
ninjutsu.
Just
pure, overwhelming, blood-soaked swordsmanship.
Even the most battle-hardened jōnin in the room had
nothing to say.
Fuguki Suikazan clenched his jaw. "Kisame... better not let me down."
Jiraiya, meanwhile, took a sip of sake, grinning. "Not bad, brat. Not bad at all."
Word Count: 1,215
Author Notes:
Taki-nin:
"I'll just run away—"
Youyu:
"Let's see if my slash is faster than
Do give me some support people I'm doing this for you guys no money or any other reason just to give some people some joy so do please point out the mistakes I made so it can be better for you guys to enjoy and lemme eat them power stones but more than anything I'll enjoy a good review more
Next Chapter: The monster in the forest