Lock was about to vanish using his teleportation technique when something strange happened —
His chakra flickered.
The instant-shift seal on his wrist failed to activate, and a faint static pulse ran through his body. He frowned.
"What the…?"
He could still mold chakra, but every time he tried to trigger the jutsu, his energy faltered, as if something inside him was interfering. His wound had stopped bleeding, but something deeper was wrong.
Then he felt it — a sluggish heaviness spreading from his abdomen, crawling slowly through his limbs.
Poison.
The realization struck just as Scorpion's voice echoed from ahead.
"How does it feel… being poisoned?"
Lock's eyes widened. "What did you—"
He didn't get to finish. Two puppets burst from the sand beside him, their wooden hands clamping down on his arms.
He reacted instantly. Chakra flared, and his body flickered behind Scorpion in a burst of speed—
—but two more puppets shot up from the ground, their iron cords snapping tight around his torso before he could move.
"Damn it!"
Lock struggled, muscles tensing as the puppet joints creaked under the strain — but the more he fought, the tighter the bindings became. The poison in his system dulled his strength, and his breathing grew heavy.
Scorpion turned slightly, his face unreadable behind the mask.
"I thought you would've realized it by now," he said softly. "Seems I gave you too much credit. You're strong, but not very bright."
The words were like a blade twisting in Lock's chest.
He'd been mocked before — but never like this, and never so helpless.
He gritted his teeth, glaring at Scorpion.
Every move the man had made — every step of the fight — had been planned from the start.
First the Kazekage, now him. Both trapped, both outplayed.
So this was the mind of a real prodigy — one who thought ten steps ahead while fighting for his life.
Lock could admit it now: he was outmatched.
Being tricked by the Third Kazekage was one thing — that man had decades of battle behind him.
But being cornered by a fifteen-year-old genius?
That burned deeper than any wound.
The chakra threads tightened. His wrists, ankles, and even his waist were pinned. He could feel the faint hum of Scorpion's chakra controlling every movement of the puppets.
He tried flooding his own chakra outward to resist the control — a desperate pulse of blue light. But Scorpion's energy was stronger, more precise, woven like steel wire through the air.
He couldn't break free.
Lock let out a ragged breath. "…How did you know I'd attack you from behind?"
Scorpion tilted his head, amused.
"You think I didn't notice?" he said. "You rely on the same pattern every time — striking from the blind spot. Flash behind, strike fast, vanish. It's an elegant technique… but predictable."
His tone carried no arrogance, only calm certainty.
"Once I saw you use it twice, I understood its limits. I positioned my puppets accordingly. You didn't even realize you were stepping into a trap the moment you moved."
Lock stayed silent, eyes burning.
Scorpion continued, almost conversationally, "Since you can't move, indulge me for a moment. I'm curious about your abilities."
He raised three slender fingers.
"You've used three different forms of movement since I met you," he said, his tone analytical, almost scientific. "First — the instant step. You use it to appear directly behind your opponent. Fast, efficient, but restricted to short range. Likely limited by proximity."
"Second — a wider teleportation. You used it earlier to reposition in an open space. Stronger chakra cost, less frequency."
"Third — the one that made you vanish completely. That wasn't movement — it was erasure. You disappeared from all perception, then reappeared to strike. But your attack wasn't focused; it hit everything within range, including your allies. Meaning— it's an area technique, not precision."
Scorpion's gaze sharpened. "Am I wrong?"
Lock said nothing, but his expression betrayed him.
The boy's deduction was flawless. Every observation struck like a kunai — precise, unrelenting.
Scorpion's smirk deepened. "You're a fascinating specimen, Lock. But all that power means nothing if your mind can't keep up."
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "And yes — you really are poisoned."
Lock's body stiffened.
The metallic taste in his mouth. The slowing chakra. The faint burn under his skin.
He'd dismissed it as fatigue from the Eight Gates — but no.
His mind flashed back to earlier — when Scorpion had unleashed a storm of hidden weapons during the fight with the Kazekage. Several had grazed him. At the time, he hadn't cared.
Now he understood.
"…It was then," he muttered.
Scorpion's faint laugh echoed across the silent desert.
"Exactly. Even Kazekage-sama didn't realize until it was too late. You should be honored — you both fell the same way."
Lock glared at him, fury simmering beneath his calm mask.
For the first time, he understood why even Orochimaru respected this boy.
This wasn't just talent. It was pure, terrifying genius.
---
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