Inuzuka didn't waste a second. He yanked out a kunai and lunged forward, not even waiting for his ninken. It was pure pressure from the first breath.
I barely managed to draw my tanto and parry the strike. Metal clashed against metal. His speed was exceptional—his combinations flowed one after another, relentless and without pause.
He fought with a brutal, practical efficiency. After our initial collision, instead of backing off, he twirled the kunai by its ring, instantly flipping it into a reverse grip. This allowed him to bypass my guard; his blade slid down the length of my tanto, nearly slicing through my fingers.
Before I could reset, he launched into a sequence of "flicker strikes." Steel grated against steel with such speed that a spray of sparks flew directly into my eyes, forcing me to squint. Using that split second of disorientation, he hooked the ring of his kunai over the guard of my tanto, attempting to wrench the weapon from my hand with a violent twist.
In that brief exchange, I realized one thing immediately: in terms of raw physical strength, I was outmatched. One more direct hit like that, and he would have overpowered me.
I instantly surged wind-natured chakra into my tanto. The cutting edge elongated, and the air began to howl. My next swing went diagonal. Shirai jerked back a fraction too late—the blade sliced through his sleeve and grazed his arm.
"Damn it..." he hissed. He hadn't expected the weapon enhancement.
At the very last second, Shirai wove a hand sign. "Substitution!"
A log splintered where his body had been. He reappeared a few paces away, clutching his injured arm.
"I'll admit... I underestimated you," he spat. "But the gloves are off now." He gave a sharp whistle. "Akira!"
The ninken bolted forward, initiating a transformation mid-leap. Its body stretched and shifted into a human form—a perfect double of Shirai.
"Four Legs Technique!" "All-Fours Two-Headed Wolf Attack!"
Two Inuzukas rushed me simultaneously, flanking me from both sides. It had begun.
I pushed my chakra circulation to the limit and used Body Flicker. The world blurred, and I reappeared behind the real Shirai, throwing a kick. But enhanced by his technique, he managed to block it. His ninken countered instantly—a sharp, precise upward strike.
I flipped backward. The chakra humming through my body allowed me to keep both in my sights. While still in the air, I began weaving signs. "Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"
I exhaled a blast of air, pouring nearly forty percent of my chakra reserves into it. The shockwave slammed into both opponents, shattering their synchronization. The ninken and Shirai were hurled back toward the center of the arena, their Four Legs Technique unraveling.
Now.
I lunged forward, refusing to give them a moment to recover. I couldn't let Inuzuka catch his breath—he was still lethal in close quarters.
But Shirai was tougher than I'd anticipated. He rolled, sprang to his feet, and snapped his fingers. Akira rose beside him, growling, though the wind blast had clearly taken its toll.
"You think I'm just going to stay down?" Shirai sneered, wiping blood from his lip. "Wrong."
He charged again, but his movements were no longer linear. He was sharper, angrier, stripped of his previous overconfidence. A kunai flashed past my face—I barely jerked my head back in time. The next strike targeted my flank, and only the wind chakra on my blade allowed me to soften the impact.
He was adapting... fast.
The ninken flanked me. I didn't see him; I felt him through instinct. A leap. A claw swipe. I retreated, but felt the fabric of my jacket tear. Shirai gave me no breathing room, using short bursts of speed to prevent me from forming hand signs.
He wanted to stop me from thinking.
I feigned a retreat, then sidestepped at the last moment, letting him fly past. My tanto struck air, but I followed up with a chakra-infused elbow. He went skidding back but stood up immediately, breathing heavily.
"Tch... you're annoying," he growled.
I saw his hand slip toward his pouch. A quick motion, and something dark disappeared into his mouth.
What was that? A stimulant? A standard soldier pill? I didn't have time to process it.
I snapped my arm forward, releasing a dozen kunai from my fingertips. I immediately infused them with wind chakra, accelerating their flight and warping their trajectories. "Wind Style: Hail of Blades!"
The blades shrieked through the air, fanning out in a deadly arc.
But he was gone. He didn't just dodge—he surged forward with terrifying speed. One kunai missed his face by a millimeter; he swatted another away with his bare hand as if he couldn't feel the pain.
Too fast.
In the next heartbeat, he was on me. A blow to the solar plexus. I barely got a block up, but the force sent me flying. The air was knocked out of my lungs, and my vision blurred. I struggled to right myself just as the next strike hit my shoulder—my arm went numb with pain.
He didn't stop. A strike to the ribs—I felt something crack. A knee to the thigh—my leg buckled. I retreated blindly, defending on pure instinct.
Then the ninken joined in. Claws slashed across my back. I rolled, feeling fabric and skin tear together. I stood up only to take a blow from above. The ground vanished from beneath me.
The attacks came from two sides—feral, jagged, and relentless. He struck without regard for defense, and the hound finished whatever I failed to block. I used Body Flicker, but even after the burst, he found me almost instantly.
What was wrong with him? He was getting faster... and he wasn't tiring.
The minutes dragged on agonizingly. I blocked with my forearms, took hits to the body, fell, and rose again. Every movement was a scream of pain. My chakra was bleeding out, my breath was ragged, and my hands began to shake.
If this continued, I would lose.
He came at me again. I tried to counter, but my kunai missed, and a retaliatory strike to the stomach doubled me over. Then a sweep to the legs. I collapsed onto the sand, my legs nearly unresponsive.
I tried to stand, but my body refused. It felt like the strength was being drained out of me. I managed to get onto one knee, leaning on the tanto clutched in my trembling hand.
If he attacked now, I wouldn't be able to defend myself.
Shirai stood before me, heaving. His chest was heaving too fast, and his movements had turned erratic. The feral grin was sliding off his face.
He moved to strike anyway. An overhead blow. I raised my arm instinctively—pain flared, but I held. I was thrown back, but I stayed conscious.
And then, he buckled.
It was violent, as if something had seized him from the inside. He gasped, clutching his chest, stumbled once, twice—and began to cough. It was a hollow, hacking sound.
Dark droplets hit the sand. Blood.
"Kh... khe..." He tried to inhale, but his rhythm was shattered. His body stopped obeying. The muscles that had been overflowing with power a moment ago seemed to deflate. He dropped to one knee, propping himself up heavily with one hand.
The ninken reacted instantly, rushing to his master's side. He stood over him, growling—not at me, but at the situation, sensing the danger. Shirai tried to lift his head but could only exhale, his shaking fingers digging into the dirt.
I understood then. This was the limit. That pill had squeezed every last drop of life out of him.
I slowly stood up, despite the agony radiating through my body. The tanto was still in my hand.
It was now or never.