Chapter 65: The Speed of Thunder
Kagenori had only wanted a quiet place to practice, to solidify the hard-won insights from his battle with Kuroiwa Tatsuji. It seemed, however, that Namikaze Minato was determined to be an unavoidable feature of the landscape.
With a quiet sigh of irritation, Kagenori turned to leave. He had no interest in practicing in front of an audience, especially this one.
A blur of yellow flickered in his periphery. In an instant, Minato was standing in his path, blocking his exit.
Kagenori's expression soured. "What now? Here to lecture me again? Even your master can't manage that. What makes you think you can?"
Minato shook his head, his expression earnest rather than confrontational. "I'm not here to lecture you. Just as Jiraiya-sensei said, in war, what you did wasn't wrong. You did what was necessary to win. I may not agree with your methods, but I can't call them incorrect. Our philosophies are just… different."
Kagenori's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "Oh? It seems Jiraiya-sama is a responsible teacher. A word of advice, though: if you try to stop me on the battlefield again like you did before, don't expect me to be polite." He made to step around the other boy. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have training to do."
Minato didn't move. He stood his ground, his blue eyes holding a new, determined light. "There's one more thing."
Kagenori sensed the shift in the air, the subtle thrum of fighting spirit. He looked at Minato, genuinely surprised. "What, you want to fight me?"
"It's not a fight," Minato corrected, his voice serious. "It's a spar. It's been years since our last one. I need to see the gap between us with my own eyes."
Kagenori stared at him for a long moment, and then a short, humorless laugh escaped his lips. "Forget it, Namikaze. You hold no interest for me right now."
A Minato who had mastered the Flying Thunder God or Sage Mode would be a worthy challenge. But this Minato? He knew a handful of Wind Release techniques and had reached the peak of his current physical speed. It was… mundane. And the Rasengan? That technique was born from the inspiration of a Tailed Beast Ball. With Kushina's fate still uncertain, its creation was far from guaranteed. The outcome of any spar was a foregone conclusion, and Kagenori found no thrill in a predetermined result.
Seeing his request dismissed, Minato's brow furrowed in frustration. "Kagenori, I know the gap is large. But I need to know how large. Please. Grant me this."
Kagenori looked at him with a strange, almost pitying expression. "Aren't you worried that seeing the true distance will shatter your spirit? That you'll find it insurmountable?"
"Not at all," Minato answered, his voice firm and clear. "If that is the case, then it's just as you said before—it would be my own weakness to blame. I cannot resent others for my failings."
A slow, calculating smile touched Kagenori's lips. "I see. I have no interest in sparring with you… but the thought of you looking utterly crushed and helpless? That, I find interesting. Very well. I accept."
A flicker of relief and resolve crossed Minato's face. He knew he was outclassed, but he needed a benchmark, a measure of the mountain he had to climb.
In unspoken agreement, they turned their backs and walked away from each other, counting fifteen paces before spinning on their heels to face one another again.
Minato fell into a ready stance, his entire body coiled with intent. "I'm ready, Kagenori."
Kagenori, in contrast, looked utterly relaxed. He casually rested his hand on the hilt of his sheathed ninjato. "It just so happens I'm refining a new application of a move. It's not perfected yet." He tilted his head, his tone dripping with condescension. "But even a failed attempt would be too much for you to handle. This might end in an instant. Would you like me to let you get a few techniques off first? To spare you the embarrassment of being defeated without landing a single blow?"
Minato's jaw tightened. "If this is a spar, we fight on equal terms. Otherwise, it's meaningless."
"As you wish," Kagenori said, his smile turning predatory. "I must admit, I'm looking forward to the expression on your face."
His posture shifted in a blink. His hand tightened on the hilt, his body lowering into a deep, focused crouch. It was the opening stance of his Thunderclap and Flash.
Minato's eyes narrowed. He recognized it instantly. He knew its weakness: for all its blinding speed, it was a linear attack. Even with Kagenori using the terrain to alter his angle of approach, the fundamental principle remained. Minato was confident he could react.
His hands flew into a sequence of hand seals for the Summoning Jutsu. If he was to stand any chance, he would need the assistance of the toads of Mount Myōboku to counter Kagenori's overwhelming combination of speed, kenjutsu, and the Sharingan.
But Kagenori was already moving.
"Thunder Breathing, First Form," he whispered, the air around him crackling to life. "Thunderclap and Flash... God Speed."
This was different. The thunderclap that accompanied his movement was deafening, a physical shockwave that tore through the clearing. The ground beneath Kagenori's feet didn't just crack; it blackened and fused, leaving deep, smoldering footprints. The muscles in his legs, hidden by his pants, corded with power that strained the very fabric.
It happened in a single, impossible moment.
To Minato's eyes, Kagenori seemed to be in two places at once—both standing in his starting position and already in motion. There was no blur, no perceivable movement. It was as if space itself had folded.
A crushing impact slammed into Minato's abdomen. The air exploded from his lungs in a choked gasp as he was hurled backward. His body smashed into the thick trunk of a tree with a sickening thud before he crumpled to the ground, blood spraying from his mouth. He tried to push himself up, but his arms gave way, leaving him slumped in the dirt, utterly powerless.
He looked up, vision swimming, to see Kagenori standing calmly where he had started. His ninjato was still sheathed. He hadn't even drawn the blade. He had simply used the scabbard, wielding the sheer, unconscionable force of his speed as a weapon. A drawn blade would have cut him in half.
Minato's disbelieving gaze traveled from Kagenori's placid face to the charred, fractured path and the deep, steaming footprints etched into the earth. His mind reeled. What unimaginable force had been channeled through Kagenori's legs to leave such a mark?
His eyes finally settled back on Kagenori, who met his gaze with cold, crimson Sharingan.
So this, Minato thought, the truth a cold stone in his gut, is the new move he's researching. The gap wasn't a chasm. It was an abyss.