"My strength is considerable, and you know as well as anyone how the Hōzuki clan excels at survival. If I stay behind to cover the retreat… I should be able to buy you all quite a bit of time. With some luck, you'll reach the rendezvous point safely."
Without heeding the change in Ryūsei's expression, Hōzuki Mangetsu spoke matter-of-factly.
It was no secret in the shinobi world that the Hōzuki's Hydrification Technique was unparalleled for staying alive. As his comrade, Kirigumo Ryūsei knew better than most how formidable that technique could be.
"That's impossible!"
Ryūsei shook his head sharply.
Leave Mangetsu behind to fight the rear guard?
Absolutely not.
Not only because Mangetsu was his dearest friend, but more importantly because Mangetsu was the most gifted genius of the Hōzuki's younger generation. True, his lopsided talents meant it was unlikely he'd ever claim the Mizukage's mantle, but that didn't change the fact that he was destined to be the clan's pillar in years to come.
If Mangetsu were to fall here—
Then even if Ryūsei led the others back alive, most would soon perish in perilous missions. And when they died, there would be no honors bestowed, no stipends for their families, no protection for their kin.
Because the current Hōzuki clan head was notorious for being overprotective, petty, and utterly unreasonable.
As for the chance Mangetsu might survive the rearguard… The Hydrification Technique was excellent for survival, but it was not true immortality. If the Hōzuki were truly unkillable, they would have already run rampant across the shinobi world.
"Mangetsu, your sacrifice won't be the boon you imagine. I might be able to bear your uncle's hatred, but the others here cannot withstand the Hōzuki's vengeance. For them, your death would bring nothing but disaster."
Ryūsei didn't mince words.
When speaking to Mangetsu, clarity was the only option. Talking in riddles would only harm them both.
"…My uncle, huh? Fine. He is narrow-minded."
Mangetsu admitted after a pause, not denying Ryūsei's point.
Then he asked:
"So what do we do now? Keep cutting off the tail to survive?"
"There's no other way."
Ryūsei closed his eyes, as though he couldn't bear to let others see the grief and pain swelling in them.
Mangetsu fell silent.
At last he said, "Time's up, Ryūsei. We should move."
"Let's go. March!"
Ryūsei gave the order.
More than a hundred Kirigakure shinobi obeyed without hesitation, moving southward.
But—
At that moment—
"Ryūsei-sama! The enemy has caught up!"
The cry of the sensory-type shinobi rang sharp and shrill.
"Direction! Numbers!"
Ryūsei's response was instant, his booming voice quelling panic before it could spread.
"The enemy approaches from the northwest! Numbers… numbers… there's only one!" The sensor's expression twisted, as if on the verge of breaking.
"One? Just one?"
For a heartbeat, Ryūsei thought his ears deceived him. Surely he hadn't heard such nonsense.
Until now, Konoha's pursuers had always been at least thirty or forty strong, many of them elite jōnin.
"Confirmed. Only one."
The sensor stood at the very edge of collapse, his sanity like a sandcastle teetering before the waves.
"But—but I've sensed this chakra on the battlefield before. It's… it's Orochimaru! One of the Three Legendary Sannin of Konoha!"
Before his mind could break, he forced the words out.
And then—
An uproar.
Faces twisted with dread and despair.
Even with the numbers on their side, none felt reassured.
Numbers mattered only when individual strength was roughly equal. If the difference was too vast—then a sea of people was just that: a sea.
Orochimaru was one of the Sannin, acknowledged across the shinobi world as a man whose power rivaled that of a Kage, even if he did not hold the title.
And not long ago, the Iwa-nin had shown the world what it took to bring down a single Kage.
Ten thousand.
It had taken ten thousand shinobi to kill the Third Raikage.
And Orochimaru had fought that very Raikage on equal terms more than once.
So, to kill Orochimaru by numbers alone… it would take ten thousand.
Here, there were barely one hundred and sixty.
Only a fragment of the number required.
"Orochimaru…"
In that instant, Ryūsei felt as though he'd swallowed a barrel of ice water in the dead of winter. His organs, his very brain froze solid. He knew all too well the monster that name belonged to. No force this small could possibly withstand him.
Perhaps ten years later, Mangetsu might have been able to cross blades with Orochimaru.
But the world allowed no such "ifs." Reality was this: before they could reach their peaks, before they could even grow, they had crossed paths with Orochimaru in his prime.
"Ryūsei, I'll hold him off!"
Without warning, Mangetsu sprang forward, dashing straight into the northwest.
"Mangetsu!!"
Ryūsei's mind turned to chaos.
But then he caught the stares fixed upon him—
the vacant, despairing eyes of his comrades.
He realized: he could not afford to panic. If he broke now, then all of them would die here.
Whether Mangetsu lived or fell—those consequences could be faced later. First, they had to survive.
And Mangetsu had already made his choice.
Ryūsei could only do what remained within his power.
"Do not break ranks! Do not panic! We continue forward, just as before!"
Ryūsei of the Kirigumo clan repeated the order to move out.
And so—
Bound by the discipline of long-formed habit, the Kiri shinobi force pressed onward in orderly fashion. Ryūsei himself, however, remained where he stood. He watched the silhouette of Hōzuki Mangetsu grow ever more distant, only then turning back around to follow at the rearguard, continuing their march south.
***************************
Read advanced chapters ahead of everyone else on my P@treon.
P@treon/GodDragcell