The battlefield roared on around them, but for Kaito and Soka, the world narrowed into a small circle where only they and the two Jonin existed. Every instinct screamed at them, every nerve fired with adrenaline. This wasn't like slaughtering terrified Genin or unprepared Chunin—these were predators. Trained killers who had survived countless wars. Their movements carried no hesitation, no wasted energy.
The first Jonin, the one from Iwagakure, was a tall man with a jagged scar running down the length of his cheek. His armor was cracked and scorched from previous battles, but his hands were steady on the twin blades he carried. His chakra rolled out in crushing waves, heavy and suffocating, like the weight of the mountains themselves.
The second, from Kirigakure, was leaner, with shark-like eyes that glistened unnaturally under the storm-filled skies. He held a curved sword coated with a thin film of water chakra, droplets steaming as they slid down the blade. His chakra felt sharp, cutting, like the ocean's undertow ready to drag prey beneath the waves and drown them.
They did not speak. They did not taunt. They simply watched.
Kaito's eyes flicked between them. His heart pounded, but his lips curved into the faintest grin. He wasn't afraid. He was alive.
Soka took a slow breath, centering herself. She had seen Kaito's recklessness before, and she knew it would get him killed if she didn't balance him. Her green eyes narrowed. We can't fight them like the others. Every move must count.
And then—it began.
The Iwa Jonin lunged first, moving with terrifying speed for his size. His twin blades cut in a vicious X-arc toward Kaito's throat and stomach. Kaito barely had time to react; his sword came up, sparks exploding as steel clashed against steel. The force rattled his arms, driving him back a step.
The Kiri Jonin moved at the same instant, his curved sword slashing at Soka with a spray of condensed water blades. She darted back, spinning, her hands forming seals as a barrier flared into existence, blocking the slicing waves. The water struck the glowing seal and hissed into steam, but the pressure forced her back across the mud.
Kaito growled, pushing forward. His free hand moved in a blur—slapping a seal onto the Iwa Jonin's armor mid-clash. The man's eyes widened slightly, feeling the drain.
"A chakra suppressor!" the Jonin snarled, breaking away instantly.
But Kaito was already moving. He twisted, his palm flashing across another seal on his forearm. In an instant, his storage seal activated, and his sword reappeared in his grip with renewed chakra coating its edge. He slashed downward with explosive force, aiming to split the Jonin in half.
The Iwa warrior crossed both blades, catching the strike, sparks spraying as their chakra clashed.
The ground beneath them shattered from the pressure.
Meanwhile, Soka wasn't faring better. The Kiri Jonin pressed relentlessly, his curved sword darting in flickering thrusts and wide arcs, each movement slick with water chakra that turned every graze into a deep cut. She barely parried with chakra scalpels hardened into glowing blades, her speed her only saving grace.
A slash nicked her arm. Blood sprayed. She hissed in pain but countered immediately, thrusting her scalpel toward his ribs. He twisted smoothly, deflecting with the flat of his blade, then slammed a knee toward her stomach.
Soka dropped low, rolling beneath the strike, and lashed upward with a burst of fire from her mouth. The flames roared toward the Jonin's face, but he countered instantly with a wave of water that doused the inferno in steam. The cloud billowed, obscuring vision, but his killing intent never wavered.
Across the field, other shinobi began noticing. The sight of two children standing toe-to-toe with Jonin was surreal. Some Chunin tried to intervene, thinking to overwhelm the Uzumaki while the Jonin pressured them.
Big mistake.
Kaito, sensing movement from the corner of his eye, gritted his teeth. He disengaged briefly, drawing a seal tag and slamming it into the mud.
The ground erupted.
Dozens of sealing chains of crimson chakra burst from the earth, impaling the incoming Chunin like spears. Their screams were short-lived as their bodies convulsed and then fell limp, skewered in midair before vanishing in smoke and blood.
"Stay out of my fight," Kaito spat, his voice cold, almost unrecognizable.
The Iwa Jonin's eyes narrowed. "Monster brat…"
He dashed forward again, blades whistling, but Kaito was ready. This time, he slapped a different seal onto his own chest—one that increased the weight on his body tenfold. His movements slowed, dragging heavily, as if he were mired in stone.
The Jonin sneered. "Slowing yourself? Fool."
He struck.
Kaito endured three brutal slashes, sparks flying, cuts grazing across his skin. Then, as the Jonin committed fully to an overhead strike, Kaito's eyes flashed.
The weight seal dissolved.
His body surged forward like lightning, speed tripled in an instant.
The Jonin's eyes widened—too late. Kaito's sword carved through him in a clean, brutal arc, slicing from hip to shoulder.
Blood erupted in a crimson spray as the Jonin gasped, staggered, then fell, body splitting in two.
Kaito landed, chest heaving, blood dripping from his blade. His eyes burned with savage triumph. One down.
But there was no time to celebrate.
Soka screamed as the Kiri Jonin pressed her back, his blade slamming against her chakra scalpel with such force it nearly shattered her arm. She twisted desperately, driving her knee into his gut, but he tanked the blow and slashed across her shoulder. Blood burst, staining her robes.
She staggered. He raised his sword for the killing blow.
"SO—KA!" Kaito roared, sprinting toward them.
The Kiri Jonin turned just in time to block Kaito's downward strike, sparks flying as their swords clashed. The impact forced him back a step.
Soka, seizing the opening, pressed her glowing hand against his chest. Her chakra scalpel sank deep into his body—straight through his heart.
The Jonin's eyes widened in shock. He coughed blood, staggered, then collapsed backward into the mud, lifeless.
Silence fell around them for the briefest second.
Then—the battlefield roared again.
Shinobi who had been watching now charged, angered, terrified, or eager to claim glory by killing the Uzumaki. Chunin, Genin, even wounded Jonin—all hurled themselves forward.
Kaito and Soka stood back-to-back, weapons dripping, breath ragged. Blood ran down their bodies, staining their pale skin. Yet their eyes burned brighter than ever.
"Ready?" Kaito growled, raising his sword.
Soka smirked despite the pain. "Always."
And the storm of death continued.