Chapter 77 – Life Is but a Play, All Relying on Acting
"Scorch Release: Extremely Steaming Murder!"
Pakura unleashed her signature technique. Several small fireballs materialized in the air, then rapidly fused into one blazing sphere. In the next instant, it erupted, spewing forth a scorching wave that baked the earth beneath her feet until it cracked and split.
The sudden spike in temperature warped the very air itself—distant shapes wavered and distorted like mirages.
It was a terrifying jutsu: silent, sudden, and devastating. Yet Nan slipped past it with blinding speed, his movements so sharp and precise that he avoided the inferno with ease, instantly widening the gap to a safe distance.
"Damn it!" Pakura cursed under her breath. That brat's speed was too much. Her Scorch Release simply couldn't keep up with his body flicker techniques.
And the shadow clones didn't make things any easier. Pakura's eyes darted to the dozen or so Nans still surrounding her.
At first, she had mocked him for hiding behind clones, assuming he lacked the courage to face her head-on. After all, the Shadow Clone Technique consumed enormous amounts of chakra—no matter how gifted Nan was, his reserves couldn't last forever.
Her plan was simple: keep smashing clones until his chakra was spent. Then, when fatigue caught up with him, she'd crush him with ease.
But Nan wasn't so easily baited. After she dispelled a few of his clones, the others adapted. They began weaving his strange taijutsu into their movements, slipping past her assaults with uncanny timing.
When she closed in on one, it would suddenly activate that frightening burst of speed—Divine Speed—to widen the distance before deactivating it again.
It was clever. Divine Speed didn't drain much chakra, but for a fragile shadow clone, even a small cost was significant. By using it only when absolutely necessary, his clones could persist far longer than she expected.
Pakura fought relentlessly, but after all this time, she had only destroyed a handful. Of the original twenty clones, fifteen still stood.
Her opponent's forces had dropped by only a quarter, while her own chakra reserves were already a third depleted. At this pace, she would run out of energy first.
Worse still, as the number of clones dwindled, Nan's remaining chakra naturally consolidated into the survivors, making them tougher, faster, and increasingly difficult to handle—almost indistinguishable from his true self.
Her initial strategy was failing. These clones weren't just stubborn—they were slippery, evasive, and endlessly resourceful.
Pakura realized she couldn't keep spamming Scorch Release either. Even for her, it was an unsustainable drain. So instead, she began scanning the field again, searching for the true Nan.
Normally, identifying a shadow clone wasn't impossible. Even the most skilled shinobi struggled to make their clones perfectly lifelike—there was always a faint hollowness in the eyes, a stiffness in the mannerisms.
But Nan's clones? Flawless. They mirrored his tone, his movements, even the subtle rhythm of his breathing.
And because she feared his genjutsu, Pakura dared not lock eyes with any of them. Without that, she had no way to distinguish clone from reality.
Unbeknownst to her, Nan's real body had already disengaged from the battle entirely. Concealed in the shadows, he was waiting—watching—for the moment Shukaku, the One-Tail, might be unleashed.
Pakura racked her brain. Yes, prodigies could sometimes master powerful jutsu in a short span. But chakra reserves? Those took years to cultivate. No one could just cheat time and accumulate vast energy overnight.
And yet… this boy seemed to break that very law of shinobi reality.
How exactly did Nan cultivate such strength at such a young age? He wasn't from the Uzumaki clan, who were born with naturally vast reserves of chakra.
What Pakura didn't know was that while Nan lacked the Uzumaki's robust physique, he possessed something equally terrifying—three souls' worth of spiritual energy and the combined chakra of two Uchiha prodigies.
His total chakra reserves weren't enormous—by Kakashi's standard measurement, only around two units. But his chakra recovery speed, both physically and spiritually, was astonishingly fast.
On top of that, his Eternal Mangekyō continuously fed him back chakra.
So, while he couldn't flood the battlefield with hundreds or thousands of shadow clones like Naruto, sustaining dozens of them was no problem at all.
At this moment, Nan's shadow clone also realized something: Pakura truly only knew Scorch Release: Extremely Steaming Murder and its variations. There were no other hidden tricks in her arsenal.
Every single jutsu she used was just a modified form of that one technique, tailored for different situations.
But to Nan's Sharingan, no matter how sudden or tricky her assaults appeared, they were meaningless.
It wasn't hard to understand why—most jutsu in the shinobi world had been developed over countless generations. Those with kekkei genkai were rare to begin with, and thus their range of ninjutsu was extremely limited.
Pakura might very well be the only person in the entire ninja world capable of using Scorch Release. For her to have developed even a single technique around it was already extraordinary.
Not everyone could be like the Second Hokage, who seemed able to casually invent forbidden jutsu at will.
But against Nan, Pakura was quickly dragged into a deadlock. Her chances of victory dwindled with every passing moment.
The real problem was that Nan already knew some of her abilities from the anime, while Pakura had almost no knowledge of him. Failing to seize the initiative in the very first exchange, she was now slowly being forced into a downward spiral.
Originally, Nan's clone had only been tasked with stalling her. But after noticing her state deteriorating, it began to consider something else—
What if I just kill her here and now?
With that thought, the clone glanced in the direction of the real Nan, silently asking if that was also what he wanted.
Even at this distance, as long as their eyes met, the clone and the original could communicate through ocular power.
Hidden atop a small, overlooked hill, the real Nan had buried most of his body with Earth Release, leaving only his eyes exposed.
As he kept watch over the battlefield, carefully considering how to deal with Shukaku, he suddenly received the signal from his clone.
After a moment's thought, Nan shook his head. Not yet.
He had other plans for Pakura. Killing her outright might disrupt his future arrangements.
With that, the real Nan revealed a sly grin and gave his clone a few subtle instructions—cooperate with his scheme when the time was right.
The clone was momentarily taken aback. So that's his plan?
Its lips curled into the same mischievous smile as the original.
If that was the case, then it couldn't keep dominating Pakura too obviously. Instead, it had to act as though it was being pushed back, letting everyone believe that Pakura still had a chance of victory.
With the plan in place, the clone relayed the message to the others.
The other clones instantly understood.
Most dispersed themselves with a puff of smoke, leaving only five remaining—each showing signs of fatigue on their faces, as though struggling to maintain form.
Pakura immediately noticed. The constant harassment from dozens of clones suddenly vanished, and her pressure lightened dramatically.
Cautiously avoiding Nan's eyes, she stole a glance at his expression—and her heart leapt with joy. His face looked weary, his chakra seemingly almost depleted.
Uchiha Nan… finally running out of chakra. My chance has come.
She seized the moment, closing the distance in a flash, launching a ferocious assault on the five remaining clones.
Nan's evasions this time lacked his earlier grace, looking strained and sluggish.
Bang! Bang!
Two more clones were destroyed in quick succession, leaving only three.
"Life is but a stage, and all depends on acting," Nan thought, recalling the book he had read eight times in his past life—An Actor Prepares.
And in this art, he was second to none.
Nobody knows acting, better than me.