~ Every 100 Power Stones = Bonus Chapter!
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Murakami Takuya’s gaze swept across the figures outside through the gaps in the earthen wall.
His fingers tapped the blade hilt three times.
“20.
No forehead protectors, but their positioning and weapon handling are all shinobi.
That bald one straight ahead — he’s not simple.”
He paused, then turned to face the three of them.
“I’ll tear open a gap.
Target is the bald one, he’s their command core.
Pull him out, and the formation might fall apart.
You take that window and break southwest.
Once you run, don’t stop.”
“But—” Jiraiya started.
“No buts.”
His tone wasn’t heavy.
But that was exactly what made it impossible to argue with.
Heavier than any direct order.
He wasn’t asking for opinions.
He was issuing a command.
Tsunade bit her lip.
She wanted to say we can help.
Wanted to say all four of us together.
The words climbed her throat and stopped there.
Because she’d already run the numbers.
Twenty against four, completely surrounded, she and Jiraiya combined couldn’t carry much of that.
The captain pulling away the leader alone to fracture their formation was already the best play available.
She knew it was right.
But knowing something is right and being able to accept it are two different things.
“Watch over them.”
Murakami Takuya’s gaze stopped on each of their faces for one second, one by one, and finally settled on Kitahara Kaede.
Kaede nodded.
Murakami Takuya launched himself forward.
The earthen wall exploded from the center.
Shattered stone sprayed outward, serving as the first wave of cover.
Before the dust had even begun to settle, he was already through.
The sound of his short blade clearing its sheath was brief and clean, like tearing through a sheet of paper.
The two black-clad men at the front reacted fast.
One raised his blade; the other sidestepped.
But Murakami Takuya was a full tier faster.
Steel flashed.
The blade-raising wrist was cut clean.
The one who sidestepped caught the flat of the blade across the side of his neck and hit the ground hard enough to bounce.
A third rushed in.
His blade barely grazed the short sword before it was sent spinning away, man and weapon both crashing through the comrade behind him.
Three seconds.
Three down.
The smile on the bald man’s face went rigid.
He stepped back half a pace.
Murakami Takuya was already in front of him.
Short blade swept horizontal.
The bald man drew his katana to meet it.
Their silhouettes locked together and pulled rapidly away toward the village, shrinking smaller and smaller until they disappeared.
The gap in the encirclement held for only a few seconds.
The remaining men moved quickly to fill it.
The semicircle closed.
Kitahara Kaede stood up from behind the ruined wall and swept his gaze across the formation.
16 men.
15 of them didn’t worry him much.
One was different.
Directly opposite, dark gray short jacket, early twenties, hands in his pockets, standing loose.
While everyone else was tense, he was watching.
Not a grunt.
Of the 16 remaining, this man was the only variable who could threaten Tsunade.
He had to handle him personally.
“Kaede—” Tsunade’s voice came from behind him.
Tight, but not panicked.
“What’s the plan?”
Her hands were already clenched into fists.
Her stance was steady as if she’d been nailed to the ground.
Kaede turned his gaze back to the front.
“I’ll take ten.”
Jiraiya nearly bit his tongue.
“You’ll take…
ten?”
“The other six are yours.
Stay away from the gray jacket up front.
The rest, pick whoever you want.”
Jiraiya opened his mouth.
The words are you insane made it halfway up before he looked at Kaede’s face and swallowed them back down.
There was no reckless bravado there.
None at all.
Tsunade didn’t question the number.
From the day she’d met him until now, every single time he said I can do it, he had done it.
There was so much she wanted to say.
Don’t get hurt.
Don’t push it.
Don’t use your body to block a blade again.
In the end, it all collapsed into three words.
“Be careful.”
Kaede reached out and pressed his palm gently down on top of her head.
It rested there for a moment, then lifted away.
Natural, unhurried.
Tsunade’s breath stopped for half a beat.
His hand was dry.
Faintly warm.
The heat that came through her hair was unmistakable, not the feeling of being protected.
The feeling of being trusted.
You can do this too.
“You too.”
He said it, and he was already moving.
Tsunade stood frozen for less than a second.
Then she clenched her teeth and turned toward her side of the fight.
Kaede cut into the right flank of the encirclement, picking the widest gap between two men.
The first swung his blade horizontally at his waist and ribs.
Kaede dropped low.
The blade swept past above his head.
His kunai, reversed, raked upward across the man’s sword hand, the weapon flew free.
His knee followed straight into the man’s chest.
The man flew back, took down the comrade behind him, and both hit the dirt together.
Kaede didn’t stop.
His hands were already moving through seals.
“Shadow Clone Jutsu.”
Two bursts of white smoke detonated at his flanks.
The clones split off and cut into both wings of the encirclement, drawing the outer men’s attention.
The real body went straight for the gray jacket.
He knew exactly where his chakra stood.
Two shadow clones left the real body at 60 percent.
Each clone running on 30.
He couldn’t drag this out.
He had to finish the gray jacket before the clones dispersed.
The gray-jacketed man finally pulled his hands out of his pockets.
Narrow-bladed short sword.
Edge ground to a bright gleam.
His opening stance was practiced and still.
“Interesting.” He grinned.
“And you’re burning chakra on Shadow Clones?”
Kaede didn’t answer.
He sent the kunai in.
First exchange confirmed it, this man was stronger.
Straight-force was a losing game.
The counterattack came riding the parry’s momentum.
The short blade slid along the kunai and angled toward his wrist.
Kaede flipped his wrist to deflect, pulled back, and widened the distance.
The gray jacket moved in pursuit.
Steady steps, deliberate pressure, shrinking his space, giving him nowhere to breathe.
Kaede retreated until the distance was right.
Then he stopped and ran through his seals.
“Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu.”
Chakra erupted from his throat.
The fireball swelled fast, nearly the size of a soccer ball, and slammed toward the gray jacket’s center mass.
Close range.
No warning.
Almost no room to dodge.
The man rolled hard to the right.
Most of his body cleared it.
But his left shoulder caught the edge of the flames, the burn locked in instantly, fabric charring black, the smell of scorched flesh rising in the air.
He landed.
Stood up.
The smile had thinned by two degrees.
“Got enough chakra left for that, brat?”
Kaede didn’t answer.
He shifted his kunai to a reverse grip, dropped his stance lower, and changed his approach from offense to harassment.
The gray jacket came after him, slashing hard and fast,
First slash came down.
Kaede turned sideways and let it pass.
Second swept across.
He ducked and it went over his head.
Third drove down from above.
He stepped back diagonally and the blade buried itself in the dirt.
Every slash missed by a fraction.
Not because Kaede was faster.
Because he was watching the man’s shoulders the entire time.
The shoulders moved first.
The blade moved after.
A fraction of a second’s read was enough.
It was the fundamentals Teacher Hiruzen had drilled into him.
The gray jacket’s patience was fraying.
His slashes came faster, nastier, targeting the neck, the back of the knee, every vital point.
But the more impatient he got, the more gaps he left.
Kaede was waiting for one of them.
➤ Next: Not Over Yet