Mikoto's anguished cry pierced the night, raw and heart-wrenching.
Scarman's laughter erupted, wild and unhinged. "Hahaha! You almost had me, kid! A jonin like me, nearly done in by a brat's genjutsu!"
"You bought a few seconds with your life," he sneered, "but it'll cost you."
A sadistic thrill surged through Scarman. In all his years, Mikoto's cry was the most anguished he'd heard.
Mikoto lunged toward Tatsumi, sprawled on the ground.
Scarman grabbed for her collar. But Mikoto, as if anticipating him, dodged and stabbed with her kunai, grazing his hand.
He froze, staring at her eyes. "Sharingan?"
Ecstasy lit his face. "Hahaha! If I deliver you to the leader, he'll forgive tonight's mess!"
Ignoring his bleeding hand, Scarman reached for her again.
Nawaki hurled shuriken at Scarman's head. The jonin dodged swiftly.
"Water Release: Water Dragon Jutsu!" Nawaki formed seals, summoning a surging dragon of water toward Scarman.
"Mikoto, save Tatsumi!" Nawaki called, flashing a confident grin, his yellow hair fluttering. "Leave this to me!"
Then, nothing.
Scarman evaded the water dragon with ease. In a blur, he closed the distance and kicked Nawaki skyward before he could react.
Silence followed.
"No one's interrupting us now, Uchiha brat," Scarman growled, stalking toward Mikoto.
Mikoto, cradling Tatsumi, ignored him. Her Sharingan glowed, unfocused, as she pressed trembling hands to Tatsumi's bleeding chest, desperate to staunch the flow.
Scarman loomed behind her, reaching with his left hand.
A sharp snap of fingers rang out.
Scarman's eyes glazed over, caught in a genjutsu. A second later, he shook it off, snarling, "That's it?"
But Tatsumi was no longer on the ground. He stood, ghostly pale, kunai still lodged in his chest.
His right hand hung limp, bloodied from his earlier sacrifice. In his left, a new kunai gleamed, infused with a surge of chakra.
With a sonic boom, the kunai shot forward like a cannonball.
At point-blank range, Scarman had no time to escape. He twisted slightly, but the chakra-charged kunai tore through his chest, leaving a gaping hole. Blood mist sprayed.
"The pain's nothing," Tatsumi said, voice cold, face ashen. "Your rage can't match mine."
Scarman staggered back, collapsing against a tree. He knew he was done.
"Heh… am I dying?" His voice broke, beastlike. "Please… let… that couple… go…"
His throat rasped meaningless gurgles—his final words.
Scarman's body stilled, his vision fading as the world slipped away.
Mikoto, tears streaming, stared at Tatsumi in disbelief. "Tatsumi… you…" she choked out.
"Just a scratch," Tatsumi said, waving weakly. His pale face and labored breathing betrayed the lie. He sank to the ground, the chest wound flaring with each move.
Mikoto knelt beside him, hands shaking. She'd learned basic first aid at the Academy, but panic paralyzed her.
Tatsumi eyed the kunai she still clutched, inches from his face. I need this face to charm the ladies, he thought wryly.
"Mikoto, let's talk after you drop the kunai," he teased. "You're crying like a pig-nosed mess."
"What… are you joking?" Mikoto snapped, the "pig nose" jibe snapping her out of her daze. She set the kunai down, fumbling for a bandage from her pack, tears flowing anew. "It's my fault. I got caught. You had to…"
"I'd rather it was me," she sobbed. "I thought you were dead…"
"It's fine," Tatsumi said. "I saw his kunai's trajectory with my Sharingan. My reflexes let me shift just enough to avoid a fatal hit. He's a jonin, sure, but I've trained with Tsunade-sensei—I know the body's weak points."
"I angled the wound to look worse, lowering his guard. It was the only way."
"If I hadn't—" Mikoto started.
"It's not on you," Tatsumi cut in, eyeing her awakened Sharingan. He patted her head gently. "This was my call."
In that moment, with Mikoto held hostage by a jonin, Tatsumi had one shot to save her. He'd recognized Scarman's resemblance to the Rogue Town couple—likely family—during the standoff. That sparked his plan: a guiding genjutsu to exploit Scarman's fear.
The genjutsu, triggered by Tatsumi's words about the couple's death, conjured their imagined demise in Scarman's mind. If it worked, Scarman would falter. If it failed, his rage would target Tatsumi, sparing Mikoto.
Normally, Tatsumi could stall a jonin like Scarman, weaving genjutsu and taijutsu to survive. But with Mikoto's life on the line, one mistake meant death—a lesson Tatsumi knew from tales like Yahiko's fall to Hanzo.
Mikoto fell silent. Tatsumi had risked everything, and she'd been powerless. I need to get stronger, she vowed, to share his burden.
Footsteps thudded in the distance. Tatsumi's eyes fluttered shut. "Nawaki's back… I'm gonna pass out, Mikoto…"
"No!" Mikoto cried, shaking him. "You can't sleep! Don't close your eyes!"
"Mikoto, it's just a faint," Tatsumi mumbled. "I'm exhausted, bleeding like crazy. I'll be fine…"
"No! If you sleep, what if you don't wake up?" she pleaded, slapping his cheek, smearing blood. "Please, stay awake…"
"The Academy taught us fainting's just the body adjusting," Tatsumi groaned, forcing his eyes open. "Fine, I won't faint. You're scarier than Scarman."
He eased his head onto Mikoto's lap, shifting for comfort, and grinned faintly. The "perk" wasn't half bad.
Staring at the sky, Tatsumi raised a shaky middle finger. "Oi, Orochimaru-sensei, how long you gonna creep out there?"
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