“Come on, sheep. Is that all you got?” asked the chunin.
He enjoyed the look on the kids’ faces. The slow growth of displeasure, pain, anxiety, and exhaustion crept up on the brat’s face as they continued to fight. It was only a matter of time before the little chicks got tired, and as they did that, he would drop them one by one until the fucking brat in front of him was the only one remaining.
He glanced at the small gap in the canopy. He could see smoke. There were more people than the brats. He, of course, knew that there was a chunin running the farm, and there was no way these little chumps could’ve taken him out and still be in the condition to take him on. There was a good chance that there was a chunin leading the brats— and if their numbers were to say anything, and taking the Hidden Leaf’s standard team structure, it wasn’t crazy to assume there were multiple chunin.
He was guessing two. The chunin running the farm was good, but the narcissistic fucker wasn’t good enough to take on three peers at the same time.
At the end of it all, there were one or two chunin waiting for him on the other side of the brats. He wasn’t proud, but he had suffered some injuries— nothing serious, but against a litter of genin, he shouldn’t have suffered anything.
All of it was because of the brat in front of him. The leader of the bunch. The lean brat looked like he hadn’t trained a single day in his life, but there was a nasty bite behind his strikes. Chakra augmentation— both him and the Akimichi chick. Then there was the pyromaniac Uchiha, the pesky little Yamanaka who was controlling people when they went down, the Fuma girl with her shuriken, kunai, and explosive tags, and there was even the Inuzuka fighting one of his genin— there was an entire galore of clan kids here.
Which raised the question of who was the leader brat. He had been out of the village for five years, but he couldn’t pinpoint the background of the combat style. The brat wasn’t from a clan— his fighting style reeked of the Ring, and he was experienced, excellent body control, a surprising amount of skill in two chakra affinities— a rarity for the age. The boy was the strongest, but that didn’t explain why the clan kids followed him. To pull prideful clan kids into a line was something else.
‘Well, whatever,’ he thought.
He needed to finish this. He didn’t know if there was a chunin or two waiting for him after he was done with the kids, so he preferred not to use more chakra than he had already. He had no problem running away, but he had built a good comfortable life for himself after leaving the village; it would be a huge pain if he had to start over. He figured he could use some chakra before going to see if the narcissistic fucker needed some help or if he had done the world some good and had left two heavily injured Hidden Leaf chunin for easy cleanup.
———
.
“Play time’s over, kiddo.”
Takuma caught a punch in the face, but he lashed out with an uppercut for the jaw. Unfortunately, the chunin caught that punch and threw him away, but Takuma’s tentacles latched onto the chunin’s arm to stay close. Takuma tugged on the chunin, but the man suddenly sped up and dug a palm strike into Takuma’s gut. He felt a sheer physical force hit him. Instinctively, all five tentacles tried to latch onto the chunin, but he was sent back with such force that the water couldn’t stay together, and the tentacles were ripped apart— and the water tentacles were quite resilient because of the chakra flowing in the water.
Takuma flew back meters, and he had to concentrate hard to maintain his focus and balance mid-air. The water redistributed between the tentacles, and they jammed into the ground to slow him down. He dug his feet to slow himself further down but still ended up slamming against a tree trunk with rib-shaking force.
He shook his head to get rid of the dizziness and looked up just in time to see the chunin weaving hand seals before long thin earthen spears emerged out of the ground and shot toward his team. Gouki was hit by two spears hit straight, and he was all but skewered. Arisu was wielding her Fuma shuriken in close-combat mode and ripped two spears to threads, but a third one stabbed through her thigh. Akimichi had an impressive performance with her bo-staff and avoided all the spears aimed at her, only for the chunin to take her out after a couple of seconds of taijutsu back and forth.
“Now, it’s me, just the two of us, brat,” the chunin looked towards Takuma as he held Akimichi by the throat. He threw her away as he made his way to him.
Takuma got up and cracked his neck. He was sure he had broken at least a couple ribs; his left leg felt off, a fracture for sure; his right shoulder felt sluggish and painful, he had screwed up his rotator cuff; there were three more things he could feel, and then a few more that would show up when the adrenaline would exit his bloodstream.
All of his combatant teammates were out.
Yuhi and Yamanaka were within the trees.
“Stay!” he yelled.
He didn’t want the two of them to come out.
“You should tell them to run. I’ll get them after I’m done with you. At least, this way, there’ll be a fun hunt,” said the chunin.
The raids were always in teams, so Takuma never got the chance to use it in the field. The Ring didn’t allow it because of the stupid rules. And he had gotten bored of dodging logs and rubber pellets.
“Oh, there will be a hunt, alright,” said Takuma as he began weaving hand seals.
The chunin stopped in his tracks and looked at his surroundings as a dense mist descended onto the area. The mist became whiter by the second, and visibility plummeted until no one could see further than they could reach with their hands.
Takuma breathed in deeply and felt the mist fill his lungs. He himself couldn’t see that well in the situation, but he had been training his ears and nose for years. He had given more effort to this jutsu than any other thing— and he barely saw any use.
That was going to change today.
“Let the hunt begin.”
———
.
He looked at the mist surrounding him. Water Release: Hidden Mist Jutsu. The kid seriously had some skill with Water affinity. He could barely see anything, but that meant neither could the kid. They were in the same situation.
“I can see you clearly, you know.”
He whipped a kunai in the direction of the brat’s voice.
“That was not even close.”
The next moment, he was assaulted by an augmented kick into his knee. The chunin tried to grab the brat, but his instinct forced his body to catch the kunai that suddenly appeared before his face.
“Be careful, or you’ll lose an eye… but that won’t make any difference here.”
The brat’s voice echoed. He was using some sort of voice modulation using chakra. ‘Party tricks,’ he thought, but he couldn’t help but his caution growing. He had no way to blow away the mist, but that didn’t mean he was trapped. He simply needed to run out of the area covered by the mist. He followed his internal compass and ran north.
But the moment he took his second step, he felt cold metal slice through his calf. It was a deep cut, and he almost lost balance.
“Don’t try to ruin the game. You don’t want a penalty, do you?”
The chunin, now hobbled, slowly moved. It was better to stay on the move rather than stay at a location the brat knew. Getting out of the mist was still his only option other than using more chakra to blow everything up around him. But he needed to reserve some chakra.
“Eh, this is a rigged game. I’ll give you the penalty.”
Alarm bells rang in the chunin’s brain, and he got ready for an attack. It didn’t come. He waited for a second, two, five, ten, but nothing. But just as he released some tension and got back on the move, he got assaulted by a fist in the face, a kunai in the side, and a blow to the kneecap.
He bit his lip and waited for the moment the kid came close in for another attack, and the moment the brat became visible, he went for the grab. He got a kunai in his shoulder, but he got the hand in his grasp.
“Fuck you, kid!”
He landed a solid punch into the kid’s face and was about to break the arm when water was suddenly forced into his mouth. The moment of shock made him lose his grip, and the brat picked up a chance to run away, but not before slamming a knee into the face. He had forgotten about the damn tentacle.
‘Fuck this,’ thought the chunin. ‘I need to wall down.’
It was clear that the kid wasn’t going to play mind games with him anymore. He was going for the silent kill the next time he hit. Screw saving chakra. He was going to get rid of the genin and escape. Fuck this joint and job— there was no shortage of work, and he guessed he could get to a comfortable spot in a couple more months.
He began weaving hand seals for a B-rank defensive jutsu that would cover him in a dome. But as he weaved hand seals, he heard a sound.
*Ding*
“Hmm?” What was that noise? He had heard that before. In fact, he had heard it a lot during the fight. Since when had it been going on?
And that’s when it happened.
*DING!*
He froze up. He couldn’t move a single muscle, and the sound of a bell filled his head, repeatedly filling his ear. The mist suddenly lifted, and he moved his eyes to find himself surrounded by a field full of the brat.
The broken nose on the boy did make him happy, but it didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t move. What had the brat done?!
He saw a kunai slip into the brat’s hand— every brat’s hand—and he started to struggle harder, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t move. It was as though he was set in stone, a statue.
Shing. As his attention was on the brat, a short sword was shoved into his back and came out of the front. He looked down at the dripping tell. He could instantly tell the blade had gone clean through his heart.
… He was dead.
He looked back and found himself staring into the red eyes of an Uchiha. What a beautiful sight. It seemed he had helped an Uchiha activate his Sharingan. That didn’t make the situation feel any better. He wondered if he could screw up the Uchiha brat— traumatize him somehow.
“You were a tough fight.”
He turned back to see the brat had hobbled close.
“Genjutsu?” he asked.
The brat jammed a kunai into his throat, and only then did he nod.
“It usually only takes half a dozen or eight rings to work, but I had to be careful with you so I had it keep ringing. And well, there was no way in hell you were going to break free after several dozen bell rings.”
“B-Bo-H-h-oo,” said the chunin as he spurted blood. He didn’t want numbers to be the last thing he wanted to hear.
A hundred little things passed through his mind. An entire lifetime of memories. There were happy ones, but he couldn’t pick out happy ones from recent memories, all of them were so far in the past.
‘Ah, this is not how I imagined it.’
And with that, he drew his final breath.
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“Come on, sheep. Is that all you got?” asked the chunin.
He enjoyed the look on the kids’ faces. The slow growth of displeasure, pain, anxiety, and exhaustion crept up on the brat’s face as they continued to fight. It was only a matter of time before the little chicks got tired, and as they did that, he would drop them one by one until the fucking brat in front of him was the only one remaining.
He glanced at the small gap in the canopy. He could see smoke. There were more people than the brats. He, of course, knew that there was a chunin running the farm, and there was no way these little chumps could’ve taken him out and still be in the condition to take him on. There was a good chance that there was a chunin leading the brats— and if their numbers were to say anything, and taking the Hidden Leaf’s standard team structure, it wasn’t crazy to assume there were multiple chunin.
He was guessing two. The chunin running the farm was good, but the narcissistic fucker wasn’t good enough to take on three peers at the same time.
At the end of it all, there were one or two chunin waiting for him on the other side of the brats. He wasn’t proud, but he had suffered some injuries— nothing serious, but against a litter of genin, he shouldn’t have suffered anything.
All of it was because of the brat in front of him. The leader of the bunch. The lean brat looked like he hadn’t trained a single day in his life, but there was a nasty bite behind his strikes. Chakra augmentation— both him and the Akimichi chick. Then there was the pyromaniac Uchiha, the pesky little Yamanaka who was controlling people when they went down, the Fuma girl with her shuriken, kunai, and explosive tags, and there was even the Inuzuka fighting one of his genin— there was an entire galore of clan kids here.
Which raised the question of who was the leader brat. He had been out of the village for five years, but he couldn’t pinpoint the background of the combat style. The brat wasn’t from a clan— his fighting style reeked of the Ring, and he was experienced, excellent body control, a surprising amount of skill in two chakra affinities— a rarity for the age. The boy was the strongest, but that didn’t explain why the clan kids followed him. To pull prideful clan kids into a line was something else.
‘Well, whatever,’ he thought.
He needed to finish this. He didn’t know if there was a chunin or two waiting for him after he was done with the kids, so he preferred not to use more chakra than he had already. He had no problem running away, but he had built a good comfortable life for himself after leaving the village; it would be a huge pain if he had to start over. He figured he could use some chakra before going to see if the narcissistic fucker needed some help or if he had done the world some good and had left two heavily injured Hidden Leaf chunin for easy cleanup.
———
.
“Play time’s over, kiddo.”
Takuma caught a punch in the face, but he lashed out with an uppercut for the jaw. Unfortunately, the chunin caught that punch and threw him away, but Takuma’s tentacles latched onto the chunin’s arm to stay close. Takuma tugged on the chunin, but the man suddenly sped up and dug a palm strike into Takuma’s gut. He felt a sheer physical force hit him. Instinctively, all five tentacles tried to latch onto the chunin, but he was sent back with such force that the water couldn’t stay together, and the tentacles were ripped apart— and the water tentacles were quite resilient because of the chakra flowing in the water.
Takuma flew back meters, and he had to concentrate hard to maintain his focus and balance mid-air. The water redistributed between the tentacles, and they jammed into the ground to slow him down. He dug his feet to slow himself further down but still ended up slamming against a tree trunk with rib-shaking force.
He shook his head to get rid of the dizziness and looked up just in time to see the chunin weaving hand seals before long thin earthen spears emerged out of the ground and shot toward his team. Gouki was hit by two spears hit straight, and he was all but skewered. Arisu was wielding her Fuma shuriken in close-combat mode and ripped two spears to threads, but a third one stabbed through her thigh. Akimichi had an impressive performance with her bo-staff and avoided all the spears aimed at her, only for the chunin to take her out after a couple of seconds of taijutsu back and forth.
“Now, it’s me, just the two of us, brat,” the chunin looked towards Takuma as he held Akimichi by the throat. He threw her away as he made his way to him.
Takuma got up and cracked his neck. He was sure he had broken at least a couple ribs; his left leg felt off, a fracture for sure; his right shoulder felt sluggish and painful, he had screwed up his rotator cuff; there were three more things he could feel, and then a few more that would show up when the adrenaline would exit his bloodstream.
All of his combatant teammates were out.
Yuhi and Yamanaka were within the trees.
“Stay!” he yelled.
He didn’t want the two of them to come out.
“You should tell them to run. I’ll get them after I’m done with you. At least, this way, there’ll be a fun hunt,” said the chunin.
The raids were always in teams, so Takuma never got the chance to use it in the field. The Ring didn’t allow it because of the stupid rules. And he had gotten bored of dodging logs and rubber pellets.
“Oh, there will be a hunt, alright,” said Takuma as he began weaving hand seals.
The chunin stopped in his tracks and looked at his surroundings as a dense mist descended onto the area. The mist became whiter by the second, and visibility plummeted until no one could see further than they could reach with their hands.
Takuma breathed in deeply and felt the mist fill his lungs. He himself couldn’t see that well in the situation, but he had been training his ears and nose for years. He had given more effort to this jutsu than any other thing— and he barely saw any use.
That was going to change today.
“Let the hunt begin.”
———
.
He looked at the mist surrounding him. Water Release: Hidden Mist Jutsu. The kid seriously had some skill with Water affinity. He could barely see anything, but that meant neither could the kid. They were in the same situation.
“I can see you clearly, you know.”
He whipped a kunai in the direction of the brat’s voice.
“That was not even close.”
The next moment, he was assaulted by an augmented kick into his knee. The chunin tried to grab the brat, but his instinct forced his body to catch the kunai that suddenly appeared before his face.
“Be careful, or you’ll lose an eye… but that won’t make any difference here.”
The brat’s voice echoed. He was using some sort of voice modulation using chakra. ‘Party tricks,’ he thought, but he couldn’t help but his caution growing. He had no way to blow away the mist, but that didn’t mean he was trapped. He simply needed to run out of the area covered by the mist. He followed his internal compass and ran north.
But the moment he took his second step, he felt cold metal slice through his calf. It was a deep cut, and he almost lost balance.
“Don’t try to ruin the game. You don’t want a penalty, do you?”
The chunin, now hobbled, slowly moved. It was better to stay on the move rather than stay at a location the brat knew. Getting out of the mist was still his only option other than using more chakra to blow everything up around him. But he needed to reserve some chakra.
“Eh, this is a rigged game. I’ll give you the penalty.”
Alarm bells rang in the chunin’s brain, and he got ready for an attack. It didn’t come. He waited for a second, two, five, ten, but nothing. But just as he released some tension and got back on the move, he got assaulted by a fist in the face, a kunai in the side, and a blow to the kneecap.
He bit his lip and waited for the moment the kid came close in for another attack, and the moment the brat became visible, he went for the grab. He got a kunai in his shoulder, but he got the hand in his grasp.
“Fuck you, kid!”
He landed a solid punch into the kid’s face and was about to break the arm when water was suddenly forced into his mouth. The moment of shock made him lose his grip, and the brat picked up a chance to run away, but not before slamming a knee into the face. He had forgotten about the damn tentacle.
‘Fuck this,’ thought the chunin. ‘I need to wall down.’
It was clear that the kid wasn’t going to play mind games with him anymore. He was going for the silent kill the next time he hit. Screw saving chakra. He was going to get rid of the genin and escape. Fuck this joint and job— there was no shortage of work, and he guessed he could get to a comfortable spot in a couple more months.
He began weaving hand seals for a B-rank defensive jutsu that would cover him in a dome. But as he weaved hand seals, he heard a sound.
*Ding*
“Hmm?” What was that noise? He had heard that before. In fact, he had heard it a lot during the fight. Since when had it been going on?
And that’s when it happened.
*DING!*
He froze up. He couldn’t move a single muscle, and the sound of a bell filled his head, repeatedly filling his ear. The mist suddenly lifted, and he moved his eyes to find himself surrounded by a field full of the brat.
The broken nose on the boy did make him happy, but it didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t move. What had the brat done?!
He saw a kunai slip into the brat’s hand— every brat’s hand—and he started to struggle harder, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t move. It was as though he was set in stone, a statue.
Shing. As his attention was on the brat, a short sword was shoved into his back and came out of the front. He looked down at the dripping tell. He could instantly tell the blade had gone clean through his heart.
… He was dead.
He looked back and found himself staring into the red eyes of an Uchiha. What a beautiful sight. It seemed he had helped an Uchiha activate his Sharingan. That didn’t make the situation feel any better. He wondered if he could screw up the Uchiha brat— traumatize him somehow.
“You were a tough fight.”
He turned back to see the brat had hobbled close.
“Genjutsu?” he asked.
The brat jammed a kunai into his throat, and only then did he nod.
“It usually only takes half a dozen or eight rings to work, but I had to be careful with you so I had it keep ringing. And well, there was no way in hell you were going to break free after several dozen bell rings.”
“B-Bo-H-h-oo,” said the chunin as he spurted blood. He didn’t want numbers to be the last thing he wanted to hear.
A hundred little things passed through his mind. An entire lifetime of memories. There were happy ones, but he couldn’t pick out happy ones from recent memories, all of them were so far in the past.
‘Ah, this is not how I imagined it.’
And with that, he drew his final breath.
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over to Patreón [fictiononlyreader] or Ko-Fi [fictiononlyreader]. Link here and in signature.