Chūnin? — the thought flashed through my mind, and my heart involuntarily quickened.
He was charging straight at me, closing the distance in a flash. His gaze—precise, predatory. His face betrayed nothing. He chose me first. Considered me the weakest, apparently. Which meant—the first to be eliminated, so I wouldn't get in the way.
We were scattered. Guy—too far to the left, Genma fending off another group. Sensei—engaged with someone else… We wouldn't regroup in time. Everyone was occupied, and I was left alone against this former chūnin?
What can I do to stall him? — raced through my head, like a heartbeat. — How do I stop him? How do I survive if he's faster, more experienced, stronger?
Chakra was already surging through my body, hot and swift, like a mountain river. I enhanced everything: muscles, vision, hearing. Focus.
Standard combo—shuriken, I thought, catching them from the sleeves of my jacket.
My fingers slid to the cuffs, drawing out thin, sharpened blades. A flick of the wrist—and a dozen shuriken burst into the air. But among them—one, nearly invisible, embedded with an explosive seal. The bait.
I was already forming hand signs.
"Substitution!"
The world jolted. My body vanished—a simple log left in my place. A split second later, the chūnin's fist smashed through it, splintering it to pieces.
"Damn…" I whispered, darting out from behind a tree ten meters away. He's too fast. Even the shuriken didn't slow him—he deflected them like flies.
But the explosion came the very next moment, flooding the clearing with smoke and leaves.
The explosive-tagged shuriken was thrown aside—not enough to injure, but enough to kick up noise and dust, momentarily disrupting visibility. Exactly what I needed—a chance, even just for a heartbeat. But as I expected, he didn't fall for it.
Barely a moment passed before the chūnin's silhouette emerged from the smoke. His eyes swept the landscape—and locked on me instantly. No hesitation. He had tracked my new position in the forest. Experience. This wasn't just battle intuition—he'd probably heard a creaking branch, sensed a faint chakra trail, or simply knew how people like me think.
Without a word, he stopped and swiftly formed three hand signs. His hands moved with terrifying precision. I recognized the first—Dog. At once, I knew: a Water Release technique was coming. He was about to pin me down, give me no room to dodge or retreat.
"I have to move," the thought burst through my mind. I formed the Tiger seal—substitution technique.
The next moment—rumble and a surge of chakra. A wide stream of water erupted right in front of me, like it had been dumped from a colossal bucket. But not just a wave—
Unrelenting Water Torrent. It obliterated everything in its path: bushes, roots, debris.
Substitution!
The water tore through my silhouette, scattering it—but by then, it was already a log, split in half by the watery force. I rolled behind a thick trunk ten meters away, hiding behind it, heart pounding, chakra roaring.
Escaped… but only for a few seconds.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
At first, I thought it was the aftermath of the wave. But no—the trees were falling. More than a dozen. He was on the move. No—flying toward me, leaping from trunk to trunk, knocking them down like they were nothing. He must be powerful if he could use a technique like that without a water source nearby. But that meant high chakra consumption—and then it hit me:
He's clearing the terrain… — I realized. — Preparing a second wave of attack.
The crashing trees fell silent. The shattered trunks had opened up the entire area—like someone had deliberately carved out a path, destroying all cover. I crouched behind a broken root, eyes fixed on the enemy.
The chūnin soared upward effortlessly, landing on one of the remaining thick trunks, towering over the area. His eyes scanned the landscape—then his hands moved again. Hand signs. Dog… Snake… Tiger.
Water Clone Technique.
From beneath him, blobs of water surged—two clones formed almost instantly, as if chakra didn't even need time to transform. They were solid, with accurate facial features, just as emotionless as the original.
Two clones, I noted. About 1/10 of the original's strength. Given his stats… they're physically stronger than most average genin.
The clones leapt down in sync and moved toward me without pause, flanking from both sides. One advanced head-on through the cleared path, the other zigzagged through the debris, clearly aiming to attack from the side. They didn't wait for orders—they had a clear directive: finish me off.
But the chūnin himself… suddenly turned around. He didn't join the fight, didn't come to finish me off personally—he sprinted back toward the caravan, gliding over the wreckage like he couldn't afford to waste time.
What?.. — my thoughts snapped tight. — He's leaving? No… not leaving. He just doesn't see me as a threat. Even the clones—just to finish me. He's sure it's over for me.
And then another thought gripped my mind, cold and biting:
Even if they're just clones—they're nearly full combatants. One for each of my teammates—if I had any. But I'm alone… How am I supposed to fight two genin-level opponents?
One part of me wanted to flee, run, tear through the trees. But the other… ignited with anger.
He didn't even say a word…
No. I had to stay calm. His retreat—good for me, I told myself.
Chakra flared within me, swirling into a controlled vortex. Not wildly—but with focus. Cautiously. I couldn't afford to blow everything at once—that would only benefit the enemy. Inhale—and I slid silently, like melting into the shadows, behind a half-felled trunk.
The first clone cut through the air, slashing at bushes. His eyes darted around, but he moved quickly, without hesitation—he had one goal: kill.
The second went slightly to the left—and I knew I had no more than five seconds before they closed in and pinned me between them.
I have to split them up. Or it's over, I thought and immediately started forming hand signs. Fast. Silent.
First step—distraction. I formed the signs quickly, just enough chakra for a believable illusion, but not so much that it would give me away.
A basic illusion clone. In the forest, flaws in chakra are hard to detect. Let them think it's me—empowered.
I sent it left, into the bushes, stomping deliberately—snapping a branch for noise.
I, meanwhile, slid in the opposite direction, sheltering beneath a cut trunk, right at the edge of the fresh waterline. The ground here was soft. Sounds muffled.
The first clone reacted exactly as I'd hoped. Without hesitation, he lunged for the fake—and it vanished in smoke. He reacted too fast. That meant—no analysis. They relied on reflex.
Interesting… that means they're running on general patterns. No direct control? So, they're limited to simple algorithms?
An explosion rang out—my clone disintegrated in smoke.
The second froze. Heard the sound—and charged in the same direction. The moment he moved toward the smoke, I shot from my hiding place like a bullet and formed hand signs:
"Wind Style: Great Gust!"
I poured in slightly more chakra than needed—not to kill, but to shift.
The air blast whipped through both clones—not head-on, but at their legs. The ground churned beneath them, one lost balance and fell, the other rolled aside, crashing into a log.
There it was—my opening.
I dashed forward, drawing a kunai, and struck the fallen clone from the jump. One blow—to the throat, without hesitation. The clone burst into a splash of water.
One left.
He jumped up, ready to strike. I needed—
A maneuver. I retreated toward one of the large roots, where I had left a trap—shuriken and wire. The falling tree had loosened the tension, but I knew—if I made the clone jump, it would catch.
It worked. His legs got snagged—not tightly, but enough to disrupt his flow.
I didn't wait—no time.
A sliding lunge forward, almost a slide-tackle, and a rising strike, kunai in hand—clean and direct. Target—the neck.
The clone twitched, trying to meet me head-on, swung—too late. He couldn't use jutsu, couldn't substitute. Only speed and strength. Mechanics.
The blade struck true, no resistance from flesh.
Slice.
The body burst into water, vanishing into a misty spray and scattered leaves.
Breath ragged. Chest tight. Ears ringing.
Is it over?