The chains withdrew with a wet, tearing sound, dragging shredded flesh from the corpses they had skewered. Blood painted the mud in thicker streaks, steam rising where it mixed with the chill morning air. Soka's lips curled into a snarl—not of fear, but of satisfaction. Her golden Adamantine Chains lashed forward again, spiraling around her like predators on a leash.
The shinobi of Konoha and Kumo faltered, their disciplined formation shattering for a heartbeat. Whispers burst through their ranks:
—Chains…! She's an Uzumaki too!
—Damn it, stay sharp! Don't let her touch you!
The hesitation was fatal.
Soka lunged, her body a blur of motion. The scalpel of chakra in her right hand slashed across the throat of a special jōnin before he even realized she had moved. Blood sprayed in an arc, misting across her cheek. One chain whipped sideways, piercing through the ribs of a chūnin and snapping him backward into the mud like a broken doll.
Three more attacked her at once, kunai flashing. She ducked beneath the first strike, pivoted with fluid grace, and drove her glowing scalpel up into the attacker's jaw. The blade tore through the palate and into the brain, and the man collapsed instantly.
The second enemy's kunai sliced her shoulder, opening a fresh wound that bled down her arm. Pain flared, but she didn't stop. Her golden chains surged forward, coiling around his torso like serpents. With a sharp twist, the chains tightened until bones snapped like dry twigs. His scream gurgled into silence as the chains crushed him flat.
The third attacker tried to flee. A mistake. A chain shot out, hooking around his ankle, and dragged him back screaming across the mud. With a brutal crack, Soka slammed his skull into a stone, caving it in like a rotten fruit.
Her breathing quickened, but her smile widened. The battlefield's roar was music to her.
Meanwhile, Kaito faced his own storm.
The two elite jōnin before him radiated killing intent, their bodies taut as predators. They moved in unison, one darting left while the other came from the right. Their coordination was seamless, a dance honed by years of experience.
Kaito gripped Kibō to Shinkō tighter. His eyes sharpened, his stance low. Sweat dripped down his temple, mingling with the blood streaking his arm.
The first strike came fast—faster than most shinobi could track. A blade lunged for his throat. Kaito parried, sparks leaping from the clash of steel. He twisted, only for the second elite to slam a kunai into his ribs. He twisted again, narrowly avoiding a fatal wound, but the edge tore across his side, leaving a burning gash.
Blood seeped through his shirt.
—Tch… you bastards are annoying.
With a grimace, Kaito slammed his palm against the ground, weaving a seal in a flash. Chakra surged into the soil. Instantly, the earth beneath the jōnin glowed with intricate markings. A suppression seal.
One jōnin staggered, his chakra flow disrupted for an instant. That heartbeat was enough.
Kaito summoned his tanto back into his hand from the storage seal and slashed upward. The blade carved across the man's chest, splitting armor and flesh. Blood erupted, spraying across the battlefield.
But the other jōnin intervened, his kick slamming into Kaito's ribs and sending him skidding backward. Pain rippled through his side. He coughed, tasting iron.
The man sneered.—Brat. You think you can kill jōnin? You're just a child with a toy.
Kaito spat blood, then smiled, teeth stained red.—A child who's about to cut you in half.
He pressed his fingers into a sequence of seals on his wrist. Chakra surged into the weight seal carved into his skin. His body grew heavier, his movements slower. To the enemy, he looked weakened.
The jōnin grinned and lunged forward, sensing advantage.
At the last instant, Kaito released the weight seal. His body snapped forward like lightning. Speed surged into his limbs, far faster than the jōnin anticipated. Kibō to Shinkō flashed like silver death.
The jōnin's eyes widened in horror as the blade carved through his waist. In a single motion, his body split apart, blood erupting in a crimson fountain. The two halves collapsed into the mud with a sickening thud.
Kaito exhaled slowly, chest heaving.—Told you.
The battle raged all around.
Soka was now surrounded by five chūnin and a jōnin. Sweat dripped into her eyes, blood ran down her leg, but her chains moved with terrifying precision. One chain lashed forward, puncturing a chūnin's throat and yanking him into the air before slamming him down hard enough to crack the earth.
The jōnin struck her flank with a kunai, slicing deep into her hip. She hissed, pain ripping through her body. Her vision blurred for a moment, but she forced herself onward. She tightened her chakra scalpel, making it longer, sharper, then drove it into his heart. The glow of her blade burned through flesh, bone, and organ alike.
He fell without a sound.
Her breath came in ragged gasps. She pressed her palm to her wound, flooding it with medical chakra. The bleeding slowed, but her body screamed for rest. Still, she stood tall, her chains gleaming gold in the mist.
Kaito wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His chest ached, his ribs throbbed with each breath, but his eyes blazed brighter than ever. He felt alive. Each cut on his body was fuel, every bruise another spark to his rage.
Then—an opening.
He spotted a squad of elite chūnin forming hand seals in unison, preparing a coordinated ninjutsu barrage. Their chakra flared, heat building as flames and lightning gathered.
Kaito grinned.—Let's see you handle this.
He inhaled sharply, weaving his own signs with blistering speed.—Wind Release: Violent Air Palm!
He thrust both palms forward, compressing the air into a whirling sphere before hurling it into the group.
The compressed air exploded like a hurricane, tearing through the formation. Fireballs and lightning bolts scattered harmlessly, disrupted mid-creation. The shinobi themselves were shredded, their skin flayed by the slicing wind. Screams echoed, then fell silent as bodies collapsed, carved open by invisible blades.
The survivors staggered, clutching their faces and throats. Kaito didn't hesitate. He dashed in, Kibō to Shinkō carving through them like wheat before a scythe.
Blood sprayed high, raining down on his shoulders and hair. His expression was blank, but inside, exhilaration burned.
The field was chaos.
Bodies piled atop one another. The air reeked of iron and ash. Soka's chains cracked like whips, dragging screams from the throats of anyone they touched. Kaito's tanto flashed again and again, a blur of silver drenched in crimson.
And still, more shinobi came.
Another elite jōnin closed in on Kaito, striking with ruthless precision. A kunai slashed across Kaito's cheek, leaving a thin scarlet line. Another cut drove into his forearm, deep enough to nearly sever muscle.
He winced, but his grin returned. His eyes glowed with a manic light. He could feel it—the brink of something. Something awakening inside him.
Then it happened.
As the jōnin moved to strike again, Kaito's vision shifted. The world… opened.
He saw everything. Not just the enemy before him, but the chakra signatures of everyone within a kilometer radius. Each flame of life burned bright, every movement outlined before it happened. The jōnin's strike slowed in his perception, telegraphed before it even began.
—The Mind's Eye… of Kagura?
No. It was more. Clearer. Sharper. Realer. The Mind's Eye of Reality.
"Another time, huh?"
Kaito's body moved before thought caught up. He turned, Kibō to Shinkō flashing upward. The blade slit through the jōnin's throat in a perfect arc. Blood burst forth, spraying warm across his face.
The vision faded as quickly as it had come. His chest heaved. His lips curled into a grin.—Heh. So that's what it feels like.
He turned, eyes blazing, to face the next wave.