"Damn it… where did they stash the meteor iron?" the Mist shinobi muttered as he rummaged through the wreckage. "Don't tell me those disposable idiots grabbed it. No, impossible. They couldn't even lift it…"
A faint chill crawled up his spine.
He glanced back.
Nothing.
Just fog-soaked ruins and silence.
"Tch. Nerves," he muttered, turning back to his search.
He never realized death had already stepped within arm's reach.
From the shadows, Fujimoto Tōma watched him calmly. So they really were after materials, not the craftsman. A flaw in the intel, but nothing that mattered.
Enemy was enemy.
Tōma tightened his grip on the hilt and began forming hand seals. Holding a blade slowed the process slightly, but not enough to matter.
"Body Flicker."
Chakra surged into his feet. The sensation was familiar. It wasn't much different from his usual chakra control, just denser, more explosive. At this rate, he probably wouldn't need hand seals for it much longer.
The ground cracked where he had stood.
In the next instant, Tōma was already in motion.
"I've been waiting for you!"
The Mist shinobi spun around, kunai flashing into his hand—
Too slow.
Why was he this fast?!
The man's pupils shrank violently. Even Body Flicker shouldn't feel like this. A speed-type shinobi?
There was no time to throw the kunai. He barely managed to raise it defensively as Tōma's blade came down. Sweat poured from his brow.
Just in time—
Tōma didn't hesitate.
Steel met steel with a sharp crack.
He immediately felt it. In raw strength, he was at a disadvantage. Age and physical development still mattered. Even a surprise attack only narrowed the gap.
But Tōma smiled.
Lightning exploded along the blade.
The electric current surged through the kunai and into the Mist shinobi's body in an instant.
The man's eyes flew open.
Pain. Numbness. His muscles locked as if they'd betrayed him. He tried to retreat, to beg, to scream—
Nothing worked.
The masked figure before him raised the blade again.
The slash fell.
His head hit the ground, still carrying the weight of despair.
Tōma exhaled softly and glanced at his sword. The result was better than expected. He'd overcommitted chakra on the first attempt, though. Far more than necessary.
Fine. He'd adjust.
Opportunities weren't exactly scarce tonight.
He moved on.
Along the way, he spotted civilians being hunted down by stragglers. If it didn't slow him, he intervened. Whether they survived afterward wasn't his concern.
Soon, the second shinobi entered his sensory range.
Body Flicker. Lightning boost.
And then—
The head flew.
He hadn't even needed the chakra blade that time.
Too fast. Too sudden.
Tōma frowned slightly. Testing techniques was important, but not at the cost of efficiency. His priority was still killing the enemy, not indulging curiosity.
He didn't stop moving.
The third Mist shinobi reacted faster. Not enough, but faster. He managed to block at the last second.
This time, Tōma held back too much chakra. The opening was there. The enemy nearly escaped with Body Flicker.
Nearly.
Tōma chased him down and cut him apart before he could recover.
He paused afterward, brow creasing.
Chakra output control was trickier than expected. This wasn't something theory alone could solve. He needed real combat to refine it.
And more enemies.
He continued.
…
The last Mist shinobi stood alone among the wreckage.
He wasn't strong. He was just perceptive.
Too much time had passed without encountering allies. Anyone with a brain would realize something was wrong.
His guard was tight. His stance ready. Escape already on his mind.
Tōma watched from a distance.
Nearly ten Mist shinobi down. Mostly genin, a few average chūnin. Still not enough.
Even chūnin rarely forced him to rely on a chakra blade.
Not ideal.
The optimal play would've been to stalk this one, drain his stamina, finish him cleanly.
But Tōma was on a timer.
Tenzo was still fighting.
So instead, he changed tactics.
Lightning had been tested.
Now for something else.
Tōma stepped openly onto a treetop.
The Mist shinobi's head snapped up.
In that instant, Tōma vanished.
So fast—
The man felt a strange sense of relief. An enemy in the open was better than one lurking unseen. At least this meant he could respond.
He swung his sword, mind racing through counters.
Useless.
Tōma's blade descended, wrapped in invisible force.
Wind.
Pure cutting force layered along the edge.
Tōma didn't hold back.
The resistance was almost nonexistent. A brief sensation of contact, and then the blade continued forward unhindered.
Blood exploded outward.
The Mist shinobi stared at his shattered sword, disbelief frozen in his eyes.
Then his body slid apart and collapsed in two pieces.
Tōma staggered slightly as he landed.
Too much power.
It felt like swinging at solid wood with everything he had, only for the target to vanish mid-strike. The loss of resistance threw his balance off completely. A moment slower, and he might've injured himself.
He recovered quickly, breathing steady.
Looking down at the bisected corpse, Tōma felt a chill run through him.
This path was right.
Dangerous.
But right.