Maybe people all hate those who are too much like themselves. Kisuke, Aya, and Kenta were no exception.
They barely spoke on the way, and Kisuke got the sense that the other two might have been just a few thoughts away from trying to tear him apart.
But Kisuke wasn't someone easily intimidated. If either of them dared to make a move, he might even welcome it—it would save him the trouble of finding an excuse later. Kisuke wasn't outstanding in many areas, but when it came to running away, he was practically a professional.
He had mastered the Body Flicker Technique to the point it was second nature. If it ever came to a real fight, he was confident he could open his Sharingan, kill one of them, and vanish before the other could react. That would turn any crappy mission into something far more interesting—and if they were labeled missing-nin, well, the Yamanaka clan could be brought in to verify the truth. Kisuke had no doubt he'd be cleared.
Unfortunately, it seemed neither Aya nor Kenta had such ideas. They moved with the tense professionalism of people who hated each other but hated failure more.
As they moved through the trees, Kenta suddenly stopped, raising a silent hand signal: Contact.
Kenta's senses were sharp—unsurprising for a taijutsu specialist with refined swordsmanship. Aya activated her Byakugan without a word, the veins bulging around her eyes, lending her an intensity far removed from her usual dreamy appearance.
"Six," she mouthed silently.
Six. That meant at least two squads. War zones often shuffled people around, and units weren't always at full strength, but this was still a decent-sized force.
The good news was that it wasn't a full two teams. The bad news? They didn't yet know the rank of their opponents.
Kisuke, Aya, and Kenta were all Chunin—nothing like Kakashi, who had made Jonin at twelve. They weren't prodigies. They were competent, hardened through missions, but not elite.
Still, six enemies were manageable. Their forehead protectors would look good on Kisuke's wall, and their death will increase his CP (curse point)
Kisuke made a quick gesture, and the three vanished into the trees. He took his position in the underbrush and activated his Sharingan. Two tomoe spun in his crimson eyes as he scanned the chakra signatures ahead.
Six figures, one with significantly denser chakra: a Jonin. The rest were two Chunins and three Genin.
No traps. It had been a chance encounter. A shame—they could've used the advantage.
Kisuke narrowed his eyes. One Jonin. That could complicate things. But it wasn't an impossible gap. Even Madara had been tricked before. Even Kaguya had fallen for a henge and a few sexy poses.
He slipped a kunai into his hand and waited. He didn't dare move yet—his two "teammates" might just bolt the moment he engaged. And judging by how still they were, they were thinking the same about him.
Distrust ran deep without their commanding Jonin, Tomihisa Kohei.
Kisuke clicked his tongue. This was getting nowhere.
"Fire Style: Phoenix Fire Technique!"
He formed the hand seals and let loose a barrage of small fireballs. Conveniently, the flames engulfed the bush where Kenta was hiding.
In the same breath, Kisuke created a shadow clone and swapped places with it using the Substitution Technique. From a safe vantage point in the canopy, he observed.
Kenta burst out of cover with a silent curse, drawing his blade and cutting down a sluggish Iwagakure Genin with a single strike. Smooth. Efficient. Brutal.
Kisuke's eyes narrowed. That bastard wasn't a softie either—the angle of his retreat exposed Aya's position, forcing her out.
***
Though the ambush had rattled them, the Iwagakure quickly regrouped. A storm of kunai flew, forcing Kenta to retreat, and flushing out Aya from cover.
"Two brats?" the Iwa jonin sneered. "How brave. Kill them!"
He barely needed to give the order—the Iwa chunin and genin had already launched themselves at the two.
But the jonin held back. He was cautious. There were supposed to be four Konoha ninja. Only two had shown themselves. That meant some were still hidden.
He couldn't act recklessly… not until the last one was accounted for.
Suddenly, he felt a chill run down his spine—a dangerous, murderous intent.
His instincts screamed.
He barely managed to dodge. His back burned—a kunai had slashed his flak vest!
Without a second thought, the jonin formed seals and used the Substitution Technique, vanishing from his original position.
Simple ninjutsu. But in moments like this, the basics saved lives.
As he reappeared a few meters away, he looked back—and froze.
There stood a boy with unique pattern on his clothes.
Uchiha!
The jonin cursed under his breath. He wasn't stupid. He knew what he was facing.
Fighting an Uchiha alone—even a young one—was a bad idea. He needed backup. Two-on-one was the minimum.
But his comrades were tangled up with the other two.
Kisuke didn't give him time to recover. He flickered forward with a kunai flashing. But this time, the Jonin was ready. His own blade came up just in time to deflect the strike, and he countered with a spinning kick that forced Kisuke to leap back.
The Jonin moved like a veteran. Every strike tested Kisuke's defenses, probing for weaknesses.
Kisuke weaved between trees and attacks, Sharingan tracking every motion. He narrowly dodged a wind blade that sliced bark from a nearby trunk and responded with a clone feint and a flurry of shuriken. The Jonin deflected most but grunted as one nicked his thigh.
The Jonin disappeared from sight, but Kisuke's Sharingan followed his movement instantly. The flicker of chakra gave him away. The man reappeared behind Kisuke with a wind-chakra blade already mid-swing.
Kisuke dropped to one knee and twisted away, narrowly dodging the slash that tore through the air just above him. Without pausing, he brought his hands together.
"Fire Style: Phoenix Fire Jutsu."
A rapid burst of fireballs erupted from his mouth, scattered and unpredictable. The Jonin deflected the first few with his blade, but two landed—one grazing his shoulder, the other scorching the edge of his flak jacket.
The Jonin responded immediately.
"Earth Release: Mud Spear."
The ground beneath Kisuke trembled and split. A jagged spike of hardened mud shot upward from below. Kisuke leapt to the side, barely avoiding it—but a second spear caught him mid-air, slicing along his ribs as he turned.
He hit the ground hard and skidded across the dirt, breath ragged, the sting of pain flaring from his side. He forced himself up.
The Jonin was already in front of him, not letting up.
He slashed horizontally—feinting left before driving in from the right. Kisuke blocked with his forearm, steel clashing against steel. A sharp pulse of chakra followed.
"Wind Blade Jutsu."
The invisible blade carved a line across Kisuke's thigh. The pain made his leg buckle, but he didn't let it slow him.
He had already made his decision.
Kisuke shifted his weight slightly, exposing his left side. His stance faltered on purpose. It wasn't much—but it was enough.
The Jonin saw it and went in fast. His blade drove forward, stabbing directly into Kisuke's abdomen.
It sank deep.
But Kisuke's hand was already behind his back—chakra gathering, twisting into a spinning sphere.
"Rasengan."
He slammed it into the Jonin's side at point-blank range.
The explosion of chakra knocked them both back, but Kisuke rolled through the impact. Blood poured from his wound, yet he ignored it. He pushed forward again, pain sharpened into focus.
The Jonin tried to get up but Kisuke didn't let him recover.
He drew a kunai and the blade slid under the Jonin's ribs and pierced through the other side.
The Jonin's mouth opened like he wanted to speak—but no words came. He crumpled to the ground.
Kisuke staggered, one hand clutching his stomach. Blood leaked between his fingers.
His other hand glowed with soft green chakra.
"Reverse Cursed Technique."
The wound sealed slowly. Muscle knit itself back together. The pain faded to a dull throb.
Kisuke breathed out.
He looked down at the fallen Jonin.
This fight hadn't been clean—but it was over and rewarding.
[Kill special Jonin - reward with 75 CP]