Fangs 10: Chapter 10: Ghost vs.
Fangs The atmosphere at Training Ground No.
3 had dropped to absolute zero.
The sun shone brightly overhead, yet it did nothing to dispel the icy tension surrounding the impending duel.
Below the field, the crowd exploded with noise.
“Hey, Ryū!
Beat that cocky bastard Kakashi into the ground for me!” Uchiha Obito shouted at the top of his lungs, his face lit with the reckless excitement of someone who just wanted chaos.
Beside him, Nohara Rin tugged anxiously at his sleeve and said softly, “Obito, don’t say things like that…” On the field, Hatake Kakashi didn’t even bother to look in their direction.
He merely let out a faint snort through his nose.
“Idiot.” Those two words were like a perfectly timed detonator.
“What did you say?!
Who are you calling an idiot, you white-haired bastard?!” Obito’s face instantly turned red as he rolled up his sleeves, ready to charge.
“Obito.” Rin’s voice carried a hint of reproach this time.
In the blink of an eye, Obito deflated, turning into a grinning fool as he scratched his head at Rin—completely smitten.
Watching this familiar scene, Ryū felt nothing stirring inside him.
If anything, he almost wanted to laugh.
“Hmph.
Dead last.” A cold, clear voice rang out nearby.
Uchiha Nao stood with her arms crossed, leaning against a tree trunk.
Her dark eyes swept over Ryū with thinly veiled disdain.
“Don’t get full of yourself just because you beat a few pieces of trash.
That doesn’t mean you’re qualified to stand next to a real genius.
Someone like you isn’t even worthy of carrying the sandals of the Uchiha.” Her words were sharp and merciless.
Ryū simply smiled back, calm and unbothered.
He knew this was just the young tsundere’s awkward way of hiding her concern.
“Duel—begin!” The instructor’s voice had barely fallen.
A flash of white lightning tore through the air.
Hatake Kakashi’s figure blurred into an afterimage as he launched forward.
Without forming a single hand sign, relying solely on the taijutsu and blade techniques of the Hatake clan, he charged straight for Ryū’s throat, his short blade carrying a bone-chilling gale.
Too fast.
So fast that nearly every student watching could only see a streak of white—no one could follow his movements.
This was a true genius.
The standard set by someone who graduated at five.
The blade tip rapidly filled Ryū’s vision.
The cold edge seemed to graze his skin.
At the instant the blade was less than an inch from his throat— Poof!
Ryū’s body burst into a cloud of white smoke, leaving behind nothing but a rough wooden log.
Clang!
Kakashi’s blade struck the log squarely, producing a dull thud.
He frowned and twisted his footing, spinning sharply.
With a backhand slash, he cut toward the blind spot behind his left flank.
He had already predicted where Ryū would reappear after the Substitution Technique.
But his blade sliced through empty air.
Three meters away, Ryū’s figure quietly emerged, as though he had been standing there the entire time.
“What?!” A stunned gasp rose from one of the instructors in the crowd.
Kakashi didn’t pause.
Like a lone wolf that had locked onto its prey, he unleashed a relentless chain of attacks.
Thrusts.
Horizontal slashes.
Upward strikes.
Each blow was lightning-fast, the angles vicious and precise, sealing off every possible escape route.
And yet, the result was always the same.
Poof!
Poof!
Poof!
The sound of wooden logs bursting echoed continuously across the training ground.
To everyone watching, Ryū had become an untouchable ghost.
No matter how fast Kakashi’s blade was, it could only chase afterimages.
Every time, he was just a fraction of a second too late.
And that fraction of a second had become an unbridgeable gap.
“Is he insane?
How can his Substitution Technique be that fast?!” “My eyes can barely keep up—how is he even doing this?” “Training an E-rank technique to this level… that’s terrifying.” Kakashi finally stopped.
For the first time, a hint of seriousness appeared on his usually indifferent face.
The opponent in front of him was unlike anyone he had ever faced.
This was someone who had refined the most basic survival technique into something approaching the divine.
Just as Kakashi steadied his breathing, preparing to escalate the fight— Ryū moved.
At the same moment he activated the Substitution Technique once more and vanished— Swish!
From beneath the spot where Kakashi had just landed, a steel wire snapped taut.
A kunai shot forward like a viper striking from its nest, silently streaking toward his ankle.
Kakashi’s pupils shrank.
Almost purely on instinct, he kicked off the ground and leaned back to his absolute limit.
The kunai whistled past his nose, shaving off a few strands of silver hair.
Too close!
The entire crowd erupted.
No one had expected that Ryū—who had appeared to be on the defensive the entire time—had been laying a trap right under everyone’s noses.
He wasn’t just dodging.
He was setting the board.
Having successfully delayed Kakashi’s assault, Ryū immediately shifted from pure defense to harassment.
“Clone Technique!” Hand seals flashed.
Poof!
Poof!
Poof!
Poof!
Four clones appeared—solid, lifelike, indistinguishable from the original—charging at Kakashi from four different directions.
They didn’t attack.
They ran, leapt, feinted, and repositioned, perfectly disrupting Kakashi’s line of sight and perception.
For the first time, irritation flickered across Kakashi’s face.
These clones were infuriating—destroying them felt wasteful, yet ignoring them was dangerous.
The moment he sliced one clone apart— Swish!
Swish!
Two shuriken came spinning in from his absolute blind spot, screaming through the air.
It was Ryū’s real body.
Kakashi twisted urgently to evade, but the remaining clones surged forward again without hesitation.
For a brief moment, the so-called untouchable genius was forced into a scramble—pressed and disrupted by nothing more than E-rank ninjutsu.
This was textbook tactical suppression.
Like boiling a frog in warm water.
It didn’t aim to kill in a single strike—it aimed to drain stamina, disrupt rhythm, and grind patience into dust.
And once the mind faltered, openings would appear on their own.
After failing to land a single decisive hit and being toyed with again and again— Kakashi snapped.
The lazy, half-lidded look vanished from his eyes, replaced by genuine fury.
“…Not bad, Kazama Ryū.” Ignoring the clones entirely, he took a deep breath, and his aura shifted sharply.
He made the same thrusting motion he had used countless times before— A feint.
Just as Ryū’s clones reacted— Kakashi flicked his wrist.
The White Fang short blade left his hand, transforming into a streak of silver light.
Like a meteor tearing across the sky, it shot forward at an impossible angle—straight toward the only blind spot where Ryū’s real body could escape using Substitution.
At the same time, Kakashi himself burst forward, his body coiled and explosive like a leopard that had been waiting for this moment.
Prediction.
Interception.
Certain kill.
Blade light and human figures crossed in midair.
To everyone watching, it looked as though Ryū—who had just reappeared—was about to be struck down by this perfectly executed pincer attack.