"Yoru, what do we do?"
Sarugei Kagerō's face twisted with panic as he watched the Sand shinobi's movements. Deep down, he was already looking for an escape.
He was about to suggest retreating with the intel when Moonlight Yoru pulled him toward Umino Yoru, clearly intending to fight first and assess the situation later.
"Kagerō, they're all poisoned. We still have a chance."
In Yoru's eyes, this patrol captain—though only a chūnin on paper—was far more capable than he appeared. His tactical prowess earlier had proven that much.
The Sand shinobi were weakened—poisoned, injured, their chakra drained. They weren't even at 30% of their full strength. Tactically, they could be considered a full rank lower.
Meanwhile, all six of their own were still combat-ready.
Three against six. The advantage is ours.
"Hmph!" Kagerō snorted through his nose, clearly displeased at the idea of staying to fight.
To him, the enemy still had a jōnin, a special jōnin, and two chūnin. Even weakened, that was too much risk.
A wise man doesn't stand under a crumbling wall. He wasn't about to gamble his life.
His gaze shifted to Umino Yoru, a flicker of hostility surfacing.
If this bastard hadn't transformed into a fake Uchiha, I could've already escaped with the intel.
Now, thanks to this peasant, he was stuck in danger.
"Huh? Wait—isn't that the poor kid from the Umino family?"
Kagerō's eyes narrowed as he finally recognized Yoru.
That's the brat who used to deliver fish to our house!
Since when did a lowly fisherman's family produce a shinobi?
Impossible. How could a dirt-poor commoner raise someone this strong?
"Damn it!"
The realization made his face burn with humiliation.
Me—a Sarutobi elder's son—saved by a fishmonger's kid?
That just proves how pathetic I must look!
And worse—this commoner had chosen to impersonate an Uchiha instead of a Sarutobi. Did that mean he thought the Uchiha were stronger?
And if not for his stupid Transformation Jutsu, I wouldn't even be in this mess!
He deserves to die for putting me in danger like this!
"Hm?"
Yoru noticed Kagerō's growing hostility and frowned.
I just saved this guy. What's his problem?
Sure, the Umino family had long since separated from the Sarutobi, but they were still aligned with the Third Hokage's faction. Weren't they technically on the same side?
Unless… he's just jealous I outshone him?
"Kagerō, watch yourself. I'll handle the Sand jōnin!"
Yoru, assuming Kagerō's jealousy had flared up again, took the toughest opponent for himself, leaving the dark-skinned special jōnin for Yoru.
Without another word, Yoru charged forward, his longsword flashing toward the spiky-haired jōnin.
Yoru nodded. Reliable as always.
He quickly assigned roles:
"Tō, you three keep the bald chūnin busy. Watch his Earth Release. I'll take the special jōnin."
Then, with a glance at Kagerō, he silently implied:
The half-crippled puppet-user chūnin is yours.
Among the Sand shinobi, the puppet master was the weakest—his puppets already damaged, his strength barely chūnin-level.
Perfect for the guy carrying the intel.
"Bastard!"
Kagerō felt insulted. The audacity of a servant ordering around his master!
Furious, he nearly refused outright—content to just stand back and watch.
But the enemy didn't give him that luxury.
The Sand shinobi, sizing up the matchups, seemed perfectly fine with the arrangement.
And so, willingly or not, the two groups clashed.
"Crescent Moon Dance!"
Yoru unleashed the Moonlight clan's secret sword style, three shadow clones striking in unison at the spiky-haired jōnin.
"Impressive!" Yoru couldn't help but admire the display.
At the same time, a pang of envy hit him.
Yoru gets a secret sword technique, and all I have is… fish-gutting knife skills.*
His "Fish-Cutting Blade Style" wasn't some elite art—just a modified version of his family's basic swordsmanship.
The only "special" thing about it was the sheer amount of fish he'd butchered, giving his strikes a vicious edge.
Nothing more.
The dark-skinned special jōnin's eyes sharpened as Yoru's blade shot toward him.
He gripped his kunai tightly, bracing for a lethal exchange.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Steel flashed, sparks flying as kunai and shortsword clashed in a flurry of strikes.
"Huh?"
The special jōnin's brow furrowed mid-fight.
This "elite trap master's" taijutsu is… average.
Aside from raw strength and decent fundamentals, his skill was barely chūnin-level.
Is this another trick?
Can't let my guard down. Gauge him further.
Cautiously, he probed Yoru's limits.
After several exchanges, the truth became clear:
Aside from tactics and traps, he's just a standard chūnin.
Seizing the moment, the special jōnin used the recoil from a kunai block to flip backward, putting distance between them.
Mid-air, he hurled his kunai—then instantly formed two hand signs.
"Wind Release: Gale Palm!"
A violent gust erupted, propelling the kunai at blinding speed straight for Yoru's chest.
"Shit—!"
Thanks to his Sound Radar Technique, Yoru sensed the attack just in time.
Five hand seals in a second—
"Substitution Jutsu!"
Boom!
The kunai, supercharged by wind, obliterated a log in Yoru's place.
He reappeared five meters away, barely dodging the lethal strike.