Hayashi sat alone on a Tree branch as the sun bled its final light across the village. He popped a ration pill into his mouth and chewed quickly, forcing chakra back into his depleted reserves. His condition was poor, the internal chakra within him reduced to less than a quarter of its usual flow.
He still had the sealing scroll he had studied with Minato, that hidden store where he had kept more than twice his present chakra, but he could not access it without time he did not have. When his kunai had missed Sakada earlier and he fled, he left behind a shadow clone to stall. The memories from that clone had already returned, bringing with them the certainty of the poison coursing through his arm.
The wound was darker now, the purplish bruise spreading into a threatening shade. To stop the toxin from racing through his body, he had to pause and recover, but pause and recovery were luxuries in the middle of an enemy hunt. Sakada had said the poison would fully erupt in forty minutes, yet every instinct in Hayashi told him it would kill him faster once he resumed fighting. He guessed he had perhaps twenty minutes, and five of those had already gone.
A sound reached him, and for a moment his head spun. He had almost mistook a branch for Kushina in that dizzy flash. The poison toyed with his senses, pulling his fears into waking images. Was it the toxin, or the shadow of death pressing at the back of his mind, that caused those hallucinations? He slapped his temple until he tasted metal, forcing himself to focus on the present.
Dabai popped his head out of the trees and alerted Hayashi. The Sand squad had a way of finding their prey, it seemed. Their toxins were insidious, and even now he could feel their reach.
Someone moved into view.
"So you were here," Sakada called.
Hayashi looked up and for a heartbeat several Sakadas blurred before him. The motion left afterimages, and only when they overlapped did the real figure resolve. Sakada stood there, steady, holding something in his hands that Hayashi could not at first make out. The sun sank a little lower, and then the object resolved into a shape that stole Hayashi's breath.
It was Mikoto's body.
No, it could not be. His eyes betrayed him. His head swam. This must be a genjutsu, he told himself. It had to be a trick. He jarred his chakra flow, trying to dispel any illusion, but nothing shifted. The scene remained fixed in his sight, as undeniable and cold as stone.
July still felt warm on his skin, but inside there was only a hollow expanse, an emptiness so absolute it made his vision tilt. He could not will away the image, and each of Sakada's words pressed into him like a knife.
"You killed her, you killed her," he repeated, a sound that teetered on hysteria.
Sakada laughed, a thin sound. "It seems the poison is taking effect, and that look suits you," he said. "I remember watching your father look at my teacher when he killed him. The agony in his eyes was exquisite. You are fortunate to experience this taste of pain."
Each syllable cleaved across Hayashi's chest. A dry tear cut a path down his cheek. He knew he should not be crying over something that could be false, yet the tears came anyway. Why am I crying, he thought in anger at himself. Mikoto is not dead, he insisted inwardly. Sakada, you liar.
Despair gathered like a storm inside him. The thought that Mikoto might be gone, that this was not a trick, threatened to break him. He felt the world narrow until only a single line remained between him and a decision.
Then his eyes flared. A crimson light washed across his vision, and the two-tomoe Sharingan spun to life. Everything snapped into focus, as if a curtain had been ripped away. He saw Sakada clearly, his stance, the small motions of his fingers, the faintest breath. The cold that had been gnawing at his ribs transformed into a ferocity so sharp he tasted iron.
Hayashi let himself fall into that madness. It was his most reckless moment, the edge of reason surrendered to a single, burning resolve. He would not allow this suffering to stand.
"Lightning Release, Chidori," he muttered, and the world answered. Chakra compressed into a humming, bright knot in his palm. The sound swelled until it resembled a thousand birds crying at once. The technique's energy bit at his skin, each strand of chakra singing with a metallic edge as it sharpened.
He stepped onto the branch and launched himself into the air, momentum carrying him like a spear toward Sakada. Sparks licked the space behind him and lightning trailed his motion, the Chidori growing in size and intensity. The jutsu reached outward toward the form of a blade, the raw pressure at the point of his palm hinting at the Lightning Blade that could be born if he shaped it so.
Sakada reacted in a measured way. He shaped hand seals with a fluid motion and sent a cascade of earth up between them. "Earth Release, Multiple Earth-Style Wall," he said, and multiple walls rose like the ribs of a ruined temple, stacked to repel the onslaught.
As an A-rank technique, the earth walls were a formidable defense. The Chidori's piercing will met those stones and began to carve through. Hayashi's chakra poured into the strike, forcing the lightning to compact and sharpen. The point grew brighter, the sound harsher. The technique that had begun as Chidori threatened to transform into an even more lethal edge.
Stone cracked and splintered where the lightning struck, and holes appeared through the layered walls. Hayashi did not hesitate. With every ounce of resolve and whatever strength the poison had not yet leeched away, he stomped and pushed, driving his entire body forward along the line of the attack. The momentum dragged him through the openings his jutsu had made, and he aimed straight at Sakada.
"I'm going to kill you," he said, the words raw.
He thought of nothing else, every thought funneled into the strike and the one purpose behind it. Time was a razor and it cut both ways. Either he would end the threat before the toxin finished him, or he would die trying.
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