Chapter 85: A Prelude to Parting
The days following his request to Orochimaru were a study in administrative limbo. Kagenori methodically handed over his duties, his few personal effects packed into a single, unassuming scroll. With no new missions assigned, he was granted a rare and idle interlude, a calm before the storm he knew was brewing in the Land of Grass.
He spent three such days within the confines of the camp, a ghost of his former command. News of his impending departure had spread, altering the subtle dynamics around him. The weight of his presence, a constant for three years, was already beginning to lift.
He noted, with a flicker of cold amusement, how his former subordinates had taken his advice. Uchiha Kyosuke, Keiichi, Ryuhei, and Jinno had not flocked to Minato, nor had they foolishly reattached themselves to Uchiha Kazuo. Instead, they had accepted reassignments from Nara Shikaku, their team formally dissolved and its members scattered to different squads. It was a pragmatic choice. To have all four join Minato at once would have been a blatant act of submission, and while Kagenori had beaten much of their pride out of them, a stubborn core of Uchiha arrogance remained. Serving under the strategic but less personally daunting Nara was a palatable compromise.
As night fell, Kagenori found himself on a small, grassy hillside overlooking the camp, lying on his back and staring up at the cold, distant moon. His mind was already racing ahead, past the borders of Hot Springs. The full-scale war, when it truly ignited, would be a grim harvest. Elite Jonin from every village would take to the field, and opportunities to witness pivotal events—and earn the points that came with them—would proliferate like weeds after a rain.
Shink!
The sound of sharp metal biting into earth broke his reverie. A kunai landed in the soil beside his head, but it was no standard issue weapon. This was a three-pronged design, the hilt marked with the characters for "Protection of the Shinobi." In the next instant, a blur of yellow replaced the empty air above it, and Namikaze Minato stood there, a gentle smile on his face as he retrieved his custom weapon.
Kagenori didn't even sit up. "Showing off the Flying Thunder God now? A bit late in the game, don't you think?"
Minato slid the kunai back into his pouch, his tone as amiable as ever. "I heard you're being transferred to the Land of Grass. It seems sudden. The situation there is stable; they don't require reinforcements. Is there another reason?"
"That," Kagenori said flatly, "is none of your concern."
Minato sighed, the sound tinged with a familiar weariness. "You haven't changed at all. Still so direct."
"You're correct. I haven't changed. I still dislike you just as much as always," Kagenori retorted, his voice dripping with contempt.
Minato's smile didn't falter. "Before you go to Grass, you'll be returning to Konoha, right? I have orders to return as well. With the war escalating, the Genin will be mobilized. To bolster their effectiveness, I'm to lead a three-man team. As a Jonin of your standing, you must have received the same directive?"
Kagenori finally pushed himself up on one elbow, a cynical twist to his lips. "I'm returning to Konoha, but I have no intention of babysitting."
He had seen the order. But what use were children fresh from the Academy? They weren't all prodigies like Hatake Kakashi. Untested Genin were cannon fodder, or worse, liabilities. He was far too busy to play teacher to some snot-nosed brats, and he fully intended to find an excuse to refuse the assignment.
Hearing Kagenori's refusal, Minato nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I thought as much. It would be strange if you accepted a team. You're only going back to see Kushina, then."
Kagenori's eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Namikaze? I'm not here for conversation. If you've come for a fight, just say it."
"Alright," Minato admitted, his expression turning serious. "I have. With you leaving for a different battlefield, this may be our last chance to cross paths for some time. I wanted to challenge you again. I'd hoped to talk first, though. After all, we've been stationed here in Hot Springs for years, fighting on the same—"
"Enough!" Kagenori cut him off, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. His hand fell to the hilt of his ninjato. "Spare me the hollow words. We haven't 'fought together' in years, and there is no camaraderie between us. Don't insult me with your hypocrisy. It's nauseating."
He settled into a ready stance, the three tomoe of his Sharingan already spinning to life, casting a crimson glow on the grass. "But I am curious to see if my speed can match your space-time ninjutsu. No more talk. Let's begin."
Minato's response was immediate. He drew two of his special kunai. "I'm ready, Kagenori."
"Then begin!"
The moment the words left Kagenori's mouth, Minato hurled the two kunai. They whistled through the air, arcing to strike the ground on Kagenori's left and right flank simultaneously, creating two potential points of instantaneous attack.
Kagenori's Sharingan tracked the weapons, his mind working with cold, analytical speed. The Flying Thunder God uses a pre-marked seal to facilitate teleportation. The caster can instantaneously move themselves or objects infused with their chakra to any marker. It can be used for offense, to close distance, to feint, to surprise, or to escape. A supremely versatile art. With two markers now on the field, Minato had two primary options: teleport to one kunai for a direct strike, or use them as feints and attack from his current position.
But Kagenori was not one to wait passively. He exploded into motion, not away from the kunai, but directly toward the one on his left. His intent was clear: to destroy the marker before Minato could use it.
From Minato's perspective, this was a predictable, if aggressive, counter. Kagenori had likely deduced he would teleport and was moving to intercept. But such a committed lunge would leave Kagenori's right and rear flank exposed. A simple teleport to the other kunai would put Minato in the perfect position to strike.
His instinct was to flash to the second kunai, but at the last possible moment, he hesitated. This was Kagenori. The Kagenori he knew would never leave such a glaring, obvious opening. Not when he understood the Flying Thunder God's capabilities. It had to be a trap.
Minato suppressed the impulse, his feet remaining firmly planted.
In the very next heartbeat, as Kagenori's blade swept down to smash the first kunai, his left hand flicked outward. A volley of shuriken fanned out, peppering the air and ground precisely where Minato would have appeared had he taken the bait.
Kagenori straightened up, a look of genuine surprise on his face as he glanced back at the stationary Minato. "Oh? You saw through it? Or were you just being cautious?"
Minato met his gaze, his expression now one of intense focus. The easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by the sharp concentration of a warrior assessing a deadly opponent.
Seeing the look in Minato's eyes, Kagenori's surprise melted into a thin, predatory smile. "It seems you did see through it. I suppose it was a little obvious."