‘As expected of the Sharingan.
What a massive headache…’ Watching the Uchiha ninja slowly collapse to the mud, Ayane felt a lingering sense of apprehension.
She raised her arm, and Arashikiri slashed cleanly across his face, instantly and thoroughly destroying those irritating crimson eyes.
She had no idea if a mere two-tomoe Sharingan possessed the necessary ocular power to cast a forbidden jutsu like Izanagi, or if this guy had rigged some bizarre Transcription Seal trap…
But—who cared?
The waters of the shinobi world were terrifyingly deep.
How much minute detail could the manga she read in her past life truly expose anyway?
It was always better to be safe than sorry!
Always proceed with utmost caution; never compromise on the big picture!
That was the absolute motto Ayane had established for herself the moment her past-life memories awakened!
‘If I hadn’t laid out that intricate web of traps in advance, I probably wouldn’t have been a match for this Uchiha in a prolonged fight,’ Ayane reflected silently.
‘Having to constantly avoid direct eye contact to prevent falling into a visual Genjutsu puts you at a massive, passive disadvantage in close-quarters combat…’ Of course, she couldn’t rule out the possibility that this specific Uchiha didn’t even know how to cast Genjutsu.
But then again…
As the saying went across the ninja world: An Uchiha might not specialize in Genjutsu, but an Uchiha who doesn’t know Genjutsu is practically impossible…
Ayane summarized the situation in her mind.
She concluded that the fundamental reason she had struggled was that her raw stats simply weren’t high enough!
If her stats were maxed out, she could just clap her hands together, summon a giant Chakra Avatar, and crush everything in her path.
Why bother with all this hassle?
The battle just now had looked effortless, as if she were taking a leisurely stroll.
It had taken her less than ten minutes to systematically eliminate three Chunin.
In reality, however, she had been walking on a tightrope; every single minute detail was filled to the brim with her meticulously pre-planned calculations.
The very first lesson every Water Style shinobi learned was heavily drilled into them by their seniors: Always secure an environment advantageous to your jutsu before making a move!
Naturally, the absolute grandmasters of Water Style were exempt from this rule.
“Tailless Tailed Beasts” like Kisame Hoshigaki or legendary Water Style masters like Tobirama Senju could artificially generate a massive ocean with a flick of their wrists; terrain was a trivial matter to them.
But Ayane’s current strength was still several Mei Terumis away from a legendary powerhouse like Tobirama Senju.
Therefore, she had no choice but to make a dramatic entrance, seizing the initiative.
By intentionally detonating a pre-condensed sphere of water, she had forcefully artificially created a favorable environment for herself.
After that, she deliberately clashed with the Fireball Jutsu to generate a thick smokescreen of steam, isolating the Inuzuka ninja and his hound from his two teammates.
As for killing the sunglasses-wearing Aburame ninja first?
That had been her plan from the very beginning.
Relying on his insect hive-mind, he acted as a pseudo-scout; leaving him alive was absolutely out of the question!
By executing this three-pronged strategy and layering her schemes flawlessly, a rookie Anbu whose raw strength was technically on par with those Konoha ninja had managed to achieve such an overwhelmingly one-sided victory!
‘Oh?
Right, I forgot to finish off one of the enemies.’ While Ayane’s mind raced, her hands didn’t stop moving.
She glanced around the clearing and finally spotted the unconscious Inuzuka ninja.
‘That half-man, half-dog freak actually managed to roll pretty far away…’ In just a few short minutes, he had nearly rolled completely out of her line of sight.
If she had been a second slower, he might have actually slipped away unnoticed!
Seeing this, the girl couldn’t help but let out an amused, exasperated laugh.
“So, all that blind rage of yours was just an act~” “And here I thought the bond between a man and his pet was truly profound…” She asked, her tone half-curious, half-mocking: “Tell me, if there ever comes a day when you’re starving to death, would you choose to eat…” The girl recalled the name from earlier and continued, “…that ninja hound of yours named Brownie?” “You bastard!” The naturally curly-haired Inuzuka ninja roared in fury.
He completely abandoned his act of playing dead.
Clutching a kunai in his single remaining hand, he struggled to launch himself from the ground.
The Inuzuka ninja didn’t offer an answer.
He merely attempted a desperate, final strike to carve out a sliver of survival.
Ayane flicked her wrist, her blade flashing like a shuttle on a loom.
A simple, clean thrust straight through his heart!
[Achievement Points +85!] Ayane shrugged and sheathed her sword.
“Not going to answer?
Well…
your reaction just gave me your answer anyway.” Eagle, who had been left in the rear to provide tactical support, dropped down from a nearby tree, grumbling under her breath, “Aw, you’re too fast.
I was hoping to steal some of the credit…” Ayane smiled softly.
“Next time, for sure.” She turned her head, looking toward the only battle in the clearing that had yet to be decided.
Woodpecker and the Leaf’s Special Jonin were locked in a fierce, explosive melee.
Sparks flew constantly, and kunai and shuriken deflected wildly through the air.
From a distance, it looked like a spectacular showdown.
However, neither side currently had any intention of fighting to the death.
One simply wanted to escape; the other only wanted to stall him.
Deeming that Woodpecker had the situation firmly under control, Ayane didn’t rush to intervene.
She quickly walked over to the sole surviving Rain kunoichi.
Crouching down, she rapidly inspected the girl’s injuries.
The young girl’s movements were incredibly gentle.
Yet, despite her care—perhaps due to a final surge of terminal lucidity, or perhaps because she brushed against a deep laceration—the female ninja’s body shuddered violently.
She managed to momentarily tear herself free from the darkness of her coma, painfully forcing her eyes open to a narrow slit.
“Ugh…
ah…” She let out a meaningless gasp of agony, her unfocused gaze struggling desperately to center on the figure before her.
“Don’t…
don’t gouge out…
my eyes…” Like a terrified rabbit, she used every last ounce of her failing strength to curl into a tight ball.
Her voice was filled with the absolute, broken pleading of someone completely shattered.
“It hurts so much…
My hands, they hurt…
My eyes hurt…
Everything…
everything hurts!
Just let me die…
please…” Ayane’s heart violently clenched in her chest, her lips pressing tightly together behind her mask.
Looking at the face before her—so familiar, yet so unrecognizable—she whispered softly, “Don’t be afraid.
I’m an Anbu from the village.” She paused, gently brushing aside the girl’s blood-soaked, matted hair.
Kneeling in the mud, she said, “Shizuki…
do you remember me?
It’s me, Ayane.” A faint, incredibly weak flicker of light ignited in the dying kunoichi’s eyes.
“Aya…
ne…?” She breathed out the two syllables with a voice as fragile as gossamer, so broken it was almost inaudible.
Ayane sniffled quietly.
The girl didn’t remove her demon mask.
Instead, she untied her hairband, allowing her long crimson hair to cascade freely down her back.
Back in their Academy class, this vibrant red hair was her exclusive, unmistakable signature.
Seeing that unique, dazzling shade of red, the dying kunoichi’s voice finally relaxed.
It was as if, after enduring unimaginable torment, she had finally found a reliable friend.
She began to ramble brokenly, “Ayane…
the instructor…
he taught us…
how to see through…
the Clone Jutsu…” “It’s all my fault…
I was too stupid…” Shizuki’s words were overflowing with guilt and remorse.
Tears mixed with blood streamed down her mangled face, splashing into the mud.
“I…
I only saw the clone…
and I wasted…
every single…
explosive tag…
on it…
It’s all my fault…” The sound of her intermittent, sobbing whimpers echoed in Ayane’s ears.
Ayane remained silent, not knowing what she could possibly say.
She could only lean down and embrace her, trying to impart whatever insignificant trace of warmth she could.
Even though they had been in the same class for two years, Ayane didn’t have a particularly deep impression of Shizuki.
She only remembered that Shizuki was always a step slower than everyone else when learning jutsu.
But she had a gentle, easygoing personality, was easy to talk to, and would always proactively share her lunch bento with the others.
However, despite being so kind, Shizuki was secretly a massive ‘shipper’ behind the scenes.
Her absolute favorite hobby was trying to play matchmaker for her classmates.
Back then, Ayane was the ‘untouchable flower on the high peak’ of the class, solely focused on grinding Achievement Points and getting stronger.
Aside from her chubby desk-mate, Takayuki Nagano, she didn’t really fit in with the rest of the class.
Yet Shizuki was the only one brave enough to casually approach her and ask what kind of boys she was into…
Ayane had jokingly replied to her: ‘With Konoha still standing, how can I think of starting a family?
I only want to grow stronger; I have no heart for romance.’ Hearing that, Shizuki had looked absolutely ecstatic.
She muttered incomprehensible things like, ‘Oh, so you’re a career-driven girl!
I guess a tragic romance between a human and a summoning beast isn’t completely off the table either…’ Thinking back on it now, all those moments felt like they happened just yesterday.
They had been young, vibrant students in the prime of their youth.
“Swan.” “She’s dying.” Eagle, usually so bubbly, spoke with a rare, heavy solemnity.
“Injuries like that…
she can’t be saved.
Even if an entire medical squad dropped from the sky right now, there’s nothing they could do.” Ayane let out a soft “Mm.” Shizuki’s voice was indeed growing fainter by the second.
In the final moments of her life, she painfully curled her index finger, seemingly still having something she wanted to say to her old classmate.
Ayane pressed her ear close to the girl’s lips.
“I’m right here.” “Ayane…” “I didn’t…
leak…
any military intel…” Ayane replied calmly, “I know.” “And…” “Please…
carry my share…
and keep…
moving forward…” Accompanied by a whisper as faint as a mosquito’s wing, the final glimmer of light faded from the depths of her eyes.
Ayane gently closed the girl’s eyes, laid her body back onto the ground, and smoothed out her matted hair.
The young girl drew her chakra blade, looking toward the skirmish on the other side of the clearing.
Arashikiri’s edge remained as pristine and white as flowing water, as if it had never been tainted by the stench of blood.
The lingering, underlying discomfort she felt—the feeling that she was only “killing for Achievement Points”—dissipated completely from her heart.
With one hand, she gracefully gathered her crimson hair behind her back, tying it once more into a blazing red ponytail.
Then, she murmured softly, “Killing to protect life; severing karma, not men!” Eagle stared at her blankly, lost in a sudden memory she couldn’t quite place.
The fiery red hair caught the breeze, swaying gently in the air, as if swaying directly into her heart.