"Please don't leave me... please?"
Night had fallen. As Namikaze Hatani and Nawaki prepared to descend from the tree and resume their trek under the cover of darkness, a tiny, trembling plea reached their ears.
Both turned instinctively. Akiren, whom they had assumed was deep in sleep, was staring at them with wide, dark eyes. His gaze was a fragile mixture of desperation and fading hope.
As a war orphan who had drifted through the ruins of his country with countless strangers, Akiren was far more observant than Hatani or Nawaki realized. He had sensed the shift in Hatani's mood that afternoon, and after overhearing their whispered conversation while searching for food at dusk, he had braced himself for this moment.
"Akiren, I'm sorry. We... we can't..."
Nawaki, who had personally promised the boy safety earlier, couldn't bring himself to look Akiren in the eye. He turned his head away, his face flushed with shame, unable to find the words to justify their abandonment.
"Ame ninja are hunting us," Hatani said, stepping forward to play the villain once more. "You'll only be a liability."
"Akiren, listen," Nawaki added, finally unable to suppress his guilt. He spoke quickly, trying to offer some guidance. "Mistrain City isn't far from here. Tomorrow at dawn, climb down carefully. Wait for a group of refugees with children and just... blend in. Go to the city."
Nawaki turned away, afraid that if he lingered, his heart would soften and he'd actually agree to take the boy along. He leapt down from the branch without looking back.
Watching the usually kind and approachable Nawaki vanish into the dark, the light in Akiren's eyes finally died. His expression became utterly vacant, as if his soul had been hollowed out, leaving only a shell behind.
Sigh.
Hatani let out a long, silent breath.
There was nothing more cruel than giving someone hope only to snatch it away. But for Hatani and Nawaki to survive—and for Akiren to have even a ghost of a chance—this was the only way. It was a cold mercy. If they took him with them, the moment they ran into the Hidden Rain, the boy would be the first to die.
Hatani didn't believe for a second that an Ame ninja would spare Akiren just because they shared a nationality. In fact, making sure Akiren had no visible connection to them was the most protective thing they could do.
"You should know by now that the wind is my ears, my eyes, and my weapon," Hatani said, his voice dropping into a lethal, frigid register as he stared into the boy's eyes.
"If I hear so much as a whisper from the wind that you've mentioned me or my partner, the wind will cut your throat as easily as it sheared those branches!"
Leaving that final "warning" behind, Hatani wasted no more time. He leapt from the tree, racing through the shadows to catch up with Nawaki.
Cough... splat... cough.
In the dim, rain-shrouded darkness, a figure was sent flying backward. He crashed into the mud, struggling to push himself back up. Eventually, his injuries proved too great, and he slumped to one knee. He used his sword to steady himself with one hand while clutching his chest with the other, coughing up dark, thick blood.
Despite the gloom, his silhouette was unmistakable: it was Gekko Kyofu, the Special Jonin who had accompanied Tsunade.
"Heh. A paper tiger, it seems. I was under the impression that every swordsman from the Leaf was another Sakumo Hatake," a voice rang out from the darkness. It was accompanied by the clicking of gears and a sneering, condescending tone.
"Heh... cough... heh heh."
Kyofu, clearly at a disadvantage, let out a raspy, jagged laugh. It was a sound that grated against the nerves of anyone listening.
"If the White Fang were here... you toy-makers wouldn't even have time to scream before your heads hit the dirt."
"Hmph! I hope your blade is as sharp as your tongue. Maybe then I won't be so bored," the puppet master snapped, his voice tight with irritation. He quickly regained his composure, however, returning to the tone of a cat toyed with a cornered mouse.
"Ha! You want to see how sharp my blade is? Why don't you crawl out of that shell and find out for yourself?!"
Kyofu forced himself to stand, using his blade as a crutch. He flicked the mud from his steel and laughed, mocking his hidden opponent with everything he had left.
"Seeking death!"
Enraged by Kyofu's defiance—or perhaps realizing the Leaf ninja was simply running on fumes—the puppet master gave a sharp command. His voice seemed to circle Kyofu in the dark, preparing for the kill.
But Kyofu moved first.
"Found you!"
With a roar, Kyofu's form blurred. He reappeared several meters away, splitting into two distinct shadows.
"Dance of the Crescent Moon!"
With his sword clenched between his teeth to free his hands for the seal, Kyofu's three forms accelerated. They became a blur of steel and speed, slicing through the curtain of rain and charging directly toward a nondescript mud pit.
Clang! Clang... Thud!
His blades parried a flurry of needles and shuriken. His clones acted as living shields, intercepting chain-scythes and spinning discs. Finally, the original Kyofu broke through the final layer of defense. He lunged like a starving tiger, driving his blade deep into the mud pit.
Screeeech!
A horrific, metal-on-metal screech tore through the night. Kyofu's momentum came to a jarring halt, as if he had slammed into an invisible mountain.
Through the black rain, one could have seen his face turning a dark, bruised purple from the sheer effort he was putting into the strike. He poured every ounce of his remaining strength and chakra into the blade, but it wouldn't budge an inch further.
Boom!
His momentum spent, Kyofu was hit by a force like a massive sledgehammer and sent flying backward.
Blood sprayed from his mouth and reopened wounds, disappearing into the torrential downpour. This time, when Kyofu hit the ground, there was no sound. He lay motionless in the mud. Only the faint, shallow rise and fall of his chest proved he was still among the living.
Splash!
A rounded, barrel-like object finally emerged from the mud pit. It was the Aegis Sphere, a defensive puppet. With the grating sound of gears turning, a light projected from the top of the "barrel," revealing a ridiculous-looking dwarf with an oversized head.
He looked down at the dying Kyofu with pure contempt.
"Hmph! Not even Sakumo Hatake ever broke through the Aegis's defenses. And you, a nobody, thought you could—"
He stopped mid-sentence. A sudden, primal shiver of terror raced down his spine. He instinctively tried to retract his head into the safety of the puppet, but he was a second too late.
From that same mud pit, a shadow identical to Gekko Kyofu rose like a ghost. With a single, silent stroke, the oversized head was severed before it could reach safety.
As the head flew through the air, eyes wide with shock, the shadow dissipated.
Under the flickering light of the Aegis puppet, Gekko Kyofu's chest finally went still.
A kilometer away, Tsunade, Dan Kato, and Kurama Sei were fighting for their lives.
Earlier that evening, Suna ninja had tripped their warning barrier. Tsunade's team, exhausted after a day of fruitless searching for Nawaki, had been jolted awake.
Unaware that they were being hunted by Parashia and eighteen elite Jonin, Tsunade—fueled by rage and desperation—had chosen to counter-attack instead of retreating.
While her initial strike had caught the Suna forces off guard, the sheer gap in numbers quickly turned the tide.
Sensing the danger, Kurama Sei had ordered Gekko Kyofu, their fastest member, to break through the perimeter and race back to the headquarters for reinforcements. But Kyofu had been intercepted by the outer ring of puppet masters.
Though Kyofu had used his family's secret art to take his enemy with him to the grave, the line for help had been cut. Tsunade and her remaining companions were now completely surrounded, trapped in a desperate struggle against impossible odds.