Reckless Charge
"Kill!"
Before anyone could stop him, Ishikawa Itsuki rushed headlong into the mist.
Uchiha Jin: "…"
Nara Kazama: "…"
The two just stood there, dumbfounded.
Damn.
Jin knew Itsuki was useless, but this level of recklessness was beyond even his expectations.
"Waste," Jin muttered, slapping his forehead. "Is this guy mentally ill?"
Kazama gave a bitter smile and shook his head. With a teammate like this… what can you do?
But as a Nara, Kazama's strength wasn't in brute force — it was in calculation. He inhaled deeply before speaking.
"Even if he's an idiot, we have to save him."
Jin blinked. "Why?"
Kazama lowered his voice, glancing toward their chakra-drained captain. "Think. If Itsuki survives and reports back that we abandoned him, the village won't side with us. Even if he dies, we've still got Kudo Nobu here. Do you trust him not to twist the story for his own credit?"
Jin froze. Kazama's words cut sharper than any kunai. He had lived two lives, but in that instant, he realized how much he'd overlooked. The Nara weren't just clever — they were frighteningly pragmatic. If even a side branch like Kazama could think this far ahead, what about Nara Shikaku himself? The thought made Jin's scalp prickle.
Still, the moment for reflection ended with a scream — Itsuki's voice, high and desperate, echoing from the fog.
Jin smacked his forehead again. "Trash. Nothing but trouble."
"Let's move," he growled, forming seals. "Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"
A massive ball of flame roared forward, burning through the mist.
Kazama was right beside him, hands flashing through his own seals. "Wind Style: Tornado Hurricane!"
The fire and wind fused, tearing through the mist and amplifying the inferno. The combined jutsu ripped three Mist-nin to pieces in an instant, clearing the battlefield.
Jin's eyes widened. A B-rank wind technique? This guy's stronger than he lets on.
But there was no time to dwell.
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Kunai rained down as one group of Kirigakure pressed forward. The other sprinted for the supply wagons.
"I'll handle these!" Jin barked. "Kazama, protect the supplies!"
"Got it!" Kazama answered, already sprinting toward the wagons.
Jin flicked his wrist, knocking aside an incoming kunai, and surged forward. His speed was blistering, even without drawing on advanced techniques. Against his raw taijutsu, the Kirigakure line crumbled. Within seconds, one was down, throat cut.
"Impossible!" a Mist-nin gasped.
"This has to be an elite Konoha squad — the intel was wrong!"
"Retreat!" the team leader barked. Without hesitation, the surviving Mist-nin disengaged, abandoning their fallen comrades as they fled into the fog.
Kazama dispatched another and jogged back, his expression calm. "Do we chase?"
Jin rolled his eyes. This guy…
After that display of a B-rank wind release, Kazama was clearly no ordinary shinobi. By rights, he belonged in an elite A-class team. And yet he still carried himself with that cool, understated confidence — like it was natural he'd be the one steering the situation.
Jin sighed inwardly. Of course. He's a Nara. Leadership runs in their blood.