The battlefield had become a graveyard.
Corpses littered the ground—some burned to ash, others frozen mid-scream in the mud, others torn apart by steel or chakra so violently they no longer resembled human forms. The air was thick with smoke, the metallic stench of blood, and the raw, choking density of chakra clashing all around.
Kaito and Soka stood amid the carnage, their bodies drenched in crimson, their breaths ragged but unbroken. Their hair, once bright red, now clung wet and dark against their faces, plastered with blood that was not their own. Their eyes glowed with that familiar Uzumaki fire—unyielding, unbroken, savage.
All around them, shinobi hesitated. For the first time, even seasoned killers began to doubt. These weren't children. These weren't orphans surviving by luck. They were predators.
One brave—or foolish—Chunin screamed, "DON'T LET THEM LIVE! THEY'RE UZUMAKI!" and hurled a massive fireball jutsu toward them.
The explosion roared across the field, consuming the area in flame.
For a moment, it seemed the two had been swallowed. But then—
The battlefield froze.
From within the smoke, Kaito and Soka emerged, their expressions carved from stone.
Kaito's blade dripped steadily, his grin sharp, wild, edged with madness. Soka's hands glowed with green chakra, healing her own wound as she walked, eyes cold, already calculating her next kill.
The hesitation ended. Fear was quickly replaced by desperation. Dozens surged forward, deciding that numbers alone could crush even Uzumaki monsters.
They were wrong.
The Dance of Death
Kaito blurred into motion first, his feet slamming into the earth as he launched forward like a crimson flash. His sword arced horizontally, cleaving straight through three Genin before they could even react, their bodies folding apart like paper. He didn't stop—his hand slapped a seal into the mud, and suddenly the earth beneath another group exploded in chains that pierced their torsos like skewers, hoisting them into the air. Their screams were cut short as Kaito yanked the chains tight, splitting them apart.
Soka's approach was different. She danced between enemies with precision, her chakra scalpels flickering like green fangs. She severed tendons, pierced hearts, and sliced throats in smooth, clinical motions. A Chunin tried to trap her with a water prison jutsu, but she extended her glowing hand and cut through the technique itself, rupturing the chakra control before stabbing the man straight in the eye.
Blood sprayed across her face, but she didn't flinch. She only pressed onward.
Two Jonin survivors, their armor battered, charged the siblings now. The one Kaito had flung earlier—his body still bruised and damaged—staggered back into the fight, rage twisting his features. Another, a fresh Jonin from Kumo, lightning sparking across his fists, joined him.
"Kaito," Soka called, her voice calm despite the chaos. "He's yours."
Kaito's grin widened. He lived for this.
Kaito vs. the Jonin
The wounded Iwa Jonin roared, chakra flaring as he hurled an entire section of earth upward, creating massive stone spears that launched toward Kaito.
But Kaito didn't retreat. He sprinted straight into the storm.
His blade flashed once—twice—three times. Each arc shattered stone, cutting the deadly barrage apart in midair. Dust exploded around him, masking the battlefield.
The Jonin waited for his chance, sword raised. But instead of Kaito leaping out at him, something else flew.
A kunai. With a tag.
The Jonin slashed it away instinctively—then realized too late.
The tag wasn't explosive. It was a seal.
It clamped against his arm and flared, suppressing his chakra in a violent surge. His jutsu sputtered, chakra flow disrupted.
And then Kaito was there.
His blade pressed against the Jonin's, sparks bursting as their steel clashed. The Jonin snarled, muscles straining, but Kaito's strength didn't falter. With a sudden knee to the gut, Kaito forced him back, then slapped another seal—this one onto his own chest. His speed plummeted, his body dragging like lead.
The Jonin blinked. Confusion flickered.
Then Kaito ripped the seal off.
His speed surged beyond natural limits.
In a single flicker, he was behind the Jonin. His blade came down in a devastating arc, slicing clean through from ribs to shoulder.
The man froze, eyes wide, before collapsing into the dirt, blood spraying in a crimson fountain.
Kaito exhaled, his grin feral, eyes blazing.
"One left," he muttered.
Soka's Struggle
Meanwhile, Soka fought desperately against the Kumo Jonin. Lightning crackled across his fists, every strike like a thunderclap. She dodged narrowly, her scalpels grazing his arms, but his sheer speed and strength pressed her constantly on the defensive.
A fist grazed her ribs, sending searing pain through her side. She bit down, ignoring it, and spun, slashing with both chakra scalpels at once. The Jonin parried with lightning-coated arms, sparks flying.
He snarled, "You're skilled, little rat. But I'll crush you like the rest!"
Soka smirked through the blood dripping from her lip. "Try it."
She baited him with a feigned stumble. He lunged for the kill.
And she struck.
Her hand flared, the chakra scalpel narrowing to a needle's edge. She slammed it into his chest—straight through his heart.
The Jonin froze, disbelief flooding his eyes. Blood bubbled from his lips.
"Impossible…" he rasped.
Soka shoved him back with a sharp kick, ripping her scalpel free. His body collapsed, twitching once before lying still.
She exhaled slowly, chest heaving.
Then a Genin screamed and lunged. She whipped around, snapping a brutal kick that caved in his chest. His body flew back limply.
The battlefield belonged to them.
Kaito's Final Kill
The last surviving Jonin—the one Kaito had launched earlier—staggered to his feet. His armor was shattered, his face bloodied, but his eyes burned with desperation. He hurled a kunai with an explosive tag attached.
Kaito snatched it midair.
In one smooth motion, he ripped the tag off and slapped it against the Jonin's stomach.
The man's eyes widened.
Kaito smirked. "Boom."
He shoved the Jonin backward and leapt away.
The explosion tore the man apart, the shockwave sending chunks of gore raining across the mud. The blast lit up the battlefield, casting long shadows over the bloodstained ground.
Kaito landed lightly, his eyes gleaming. "That's that."
The Last Stand
Dozens of Chunin and Genin still fought around them, but the tide had turned. Panic spread. Some tried to flee.
Soka wouldn't allow it.
Forming quick seals, she slammed her palm to the earth. A heavy weight seal spread across the mud, dragging fleeing shinobi to their knees as their bodies collapsed under crushing gravity.
"Where do you think you're going?" she whispered coldly.
Kaito followed through with merciless precision. He leapt into the crowd, blade spinning, chains lashing. Heads flew. Bodies split. Blood drenched the field anew.
Every scream was cut short. Every plea drowned in the symphony of slaughter.
Until, finally—
Silence.
The battlefield lay still. Only the crackle of fading flames and the drip of blood from their weapons remained.
Kaito exhaled, lowering his sword. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, but his grin didn't fade.
Soka stood beside him, equally bloodied, equally triumphant. She wiped her face, leaving a crimson smear across her cheek.
For a moment, they said nothing. Then Kaito extended his hand, palm open.
Soka looked at him, her lips twitching into the faintest smirk. She slapped her palm against his.
A sharp clap echoed across the empty battlefield.
The two Uzumaki—monsters, survivors, predators—stood victorious among the dead.
And somewhere deep within their hearts, they both knew.
This was only the beginning.