Chapter 66: The Advance
Before Minato Namikaze could even process the beginning of the fight, it was over. The impact to his abdomen was like being hit by a runaway train, hurling him back into the unyielding trunk of a tree. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth as he slumped to the ground, his body screaming in protest.
Kagenori walked over, his shadow falling across Minato. He looked down, his expression unreadable. "You lose."
Minato wiped the blood from his lip, his mind still struggling to catch up with the reality of his defeat. "So this is the new move you're developing? It's still Thunderclap and Flash, but... faster. The power behind it is immense." He pushed past the pain, a strange fire igniting in his blue eyes. "I didn't realize the gap was this vast. I couldn't even withstand a single technique. You've won, Kagenori."
Kagenori studied him, a flicker of curiosity breaking through his usual apathy. "You don't seem discouraged. If anything, you look more motivated. Logically, seeing the chasm between us should be disheartening."
Minato managed a weak, but genuine, smile. "No. It's because I see you as my rival that I won't be discouraged. I am motivated. I'll keep striving, starting from being unable to take a single blow, to eventually weathering one, then two... until I've caught up to you."
Kagenori merely shrugged, the gesture dripping with indifference. "As long as it amuses you. It was a boring match regardless." He turned to leave.
"Kagenori," Minato called out, his voice strained. "You said the technique was incomplete. What you just used... was it finished?"
Kagenori paused without looking back. "No," he stated flatly, and then he was gone.
Minato let his head fall back against the tree, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Incomplete. The sheer, overwhelming speed he had just witnessed was an unfinished product. The thought was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.
Kagenori reflected on the spar as he found a secluded training ground. Thunderclap and Flash: God Speed was indeed unfinished. It required him to flood the chakra pathways in his legs with lightning-natured chakra to a dangerous extreme, releasing it all in one cataclysmic burst. But he could feel the hesitation in the flow, a bottleneck his body couldn't yet surpass. His legs ached fiercely from the strain; they simply weren't durable enough to handle the technique's true potential. The chakra cost was also staggering.
Even in its imperfect state, it was exponentially faster than the standard form. It and the Seventh Form: Fire Thunder God represented two different paths—one pure, unadulterated speed and power, the other a more versatile, all-encompassing assault. Rubbing his sore muscles, Kagenori accepted the reality. This wasn't a matter of simple practice. His body itself needed to evolve, his leg muscles and chakra pathways strengthening to withstand greater stimulation. It was a slow, grueling process.
He put Minato Namikaze out of his mind. Unless the boy somehow mastered the Flying Thunder God or Sage Mode, he was no longer a relevant metric for Kagenori's growth. Even the Rasengan, if it were ever created, would be useless if its user could never land a hit.
He focused on his consolidation training, pushing the lingering soreness from his mind.
The next morning, the thirty-two combat-effective shinobi assembled. Orochimaru stood before them, his presence commanding silence.
"All of you," he began, his voice cutting through the dawn air, "create as many basic clones as you can. Then, each of you form one Shadow Clone. The Shadow Clones will marshal the illusion clones into a formation. The real bodies will remain hidden within this group. We advance the line. Jiraiya!"
Jiraiya stepped forward, his usual levity replaced by a soldier's demeanor. "Here!"
"Jiraiya, you and I will anchor the flanks of the formation. Summon your toads. If we encounter Cloud scouts, use the summons to drive them off. Any that slip through the net, we handle personally."
"Understood!" Jiraiya replied.
Orochimaru's gaze swept the ranks and landed on his disciple. "Kagenori!"
Kagenori took a step forward. "Here."
"You have the highest mobility. Your mission is to patrol a fifty-meter radius around the main body. Scout for the enemy. If you find them..." Orochimaru's eyes glinted coldly.
Kagenori finished the thought. "Eliminate them if I'm certain of success?"
Orochimaru gave a single, sharp nod. "Confirmed."
Kagenori bowed slightly. "Yes, Sensei."
Orochimaru addressed the rest. "For everyone else, your primary objective is to maintain the formation of clones. Do not break ranks unless the enemy engages directly. Is that clear?"
A unified "Hai!" echoed back.
"Then we begin the advance!" Orochimaru commanded. "Upon reaching the ten-kilometer point, we will fortify the position with traps and establish a defensive perimeter. Move out!"
The shinobi began the process, a chorus of "Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!" and basic clone techniques filling the air. Soon, a column that appeared to be over two hundred strong began its march, a phantom army hiding a core of thirty-two exhausted but determined shinobi.
Jiraiya noticed Minato's unusually subdued expression. "Minato, what's wrong? Are you injured?"
Minato shook his head, his eyes fixed ahead. "I'm fine, Jiraiya-sensei. It won't affect the mission."
"See that it doesn't," Jiraiya said, his tone laced with concern he couldn't fully voice.
The formation began to move, a river of clones and shadow clones flowing through the forest, flanked by two of the Legendary Sannin. Kagenori broke away from the main group, a lone predator disappearing into the trees.
For the first two kilometers, his patrol was uneventful. But beyond that, his sharpened senses, amplified by the Sharingan he kept active, began to pick up traces—a snapped twig, a footprint too fresh to be old.
He formed a hand seal and pressed his palm to the earth. "Senpō: Ja Jōka no Jin!" (Sage Art: Formation of Ten Thousand Snakes). Unlike Orochimaru, who spewed snakes from his mouth, a swarm of serpents slithered from Kagenori's sleeves, scattering into the undergrowth to become his eyes and ears.
Simultaneously, he summoned a small, sleek black snake. "Find Orochimaru-sensei. Report that I've detected movement. Tell him to be ready."
The snake dipped its head. "At once, Kagenori-sama," it hissed, before darting away into the foliage.
Minutes later, several scouts returned, coiling around his arms, their silent communication passing directly into his mind through his Ryūchi Cave contract.
A three-man scouting party.
A cold, focused light ignited in Kagenori's crimson eyes. His hand tightened around the hilt of his ninjato.
It was time to hunt.