he battlefield howled. Every scream, every clash of steel, every surge of chakra was swallowed by the endless storm of death.
Soka's chains lashed in golden arcs, dripping with blood that was not hers. Her arms trembled from exertion, but she refused to slow. Each strike was deliberate, surgical in its brutality. A chain hooked around a shinobi's neck, jerking him skyward. Before gravity could claim him, Soka yanked hard, snapping his spine with a sharp crack. The corpse fell limp at her feet.
Her hip throbbed from the gash she had taken earlier. Each step felt heavier, but her grin never faltered. She whispered to herself between gasps of air:—One more. Just one more.
Her chakra scalpel carved through another enemy's sternum, the sizzling flesh filling the air with a sickly stench. She gagged briefly but pressed onward, refusing to let weakness claim her.
Kaito was no less relentless. His tanto, Kibō to Shinkō, gleamed with every swing, though the silver was almost lost beneath the thick layers of crimson coating the blade. He fought with a predator's rhythm—strike, feint, slash, retreat, thrust.
A kunai came for his throat. He ducked low, driving his shoulder into the attacker's chest. The man staggered. Kaito spun with precision, his tanto cutting across the shinobi's waist. Intestines spilled into the mud. Kaito didn't stop moving.
Another rushed him, lightning chakra crackling around their blade. Kaito's eyes narrowed. He wove a single seal with his free hand.—Wind Release: Gale Pulse!
The burst of compressed air slammed outward, colliding with the lightning-wrapped sword. Sparks exploded. The shinobi's balance faltered, and Kaito took advantage, plunging Kibō to Shinkō through the man's heart.
The enemy gasped once, then collapsed.
Kaito's breath came ragged. His ribs ached, blood leaked from a dozen cuts. Yet he felt alive. Too alive. Every second on this battlefield was fire in his veins.
Hours bled together.
The moon crawled slowly across the sky, its pale glow illuminating the field of corpses. The shinobi forces of Konoha and Kumo pressed relentlessly, but for every five that attacked, only one or two staggered back alive.
Still, the toll was heavy on Kaito and Soka.
Kaito's left arm hung limp, sliced deeply along the bicep. His shoulder bore a wound so raw it looked as though flesh had been flayed from the bone. Each movement sent agony lancing through his body, yet he refused to yield.
Soka's golden chains flickered, their movements slower as her chakra reserves dwindled. Sweat poured down her face, mixing with blood and dirt. Her breaths came shallow, but her eyes remained sharp.
At one point, three shinobi overwhelmed her defenses. A kunai pierced her thigh, another sliced her cheek, and the third nearly drove a blade into her stomach. She twisted desperately, golden chains flaring out, skewering two of them in a single thrust. The third barely escaped, only to be cut down by Kaito a heartbeat later.
—You alright?! he shouted, voice ragged.
—I'm fine! she lied, blood streaming down her leg.
Their eyes met for a second in the chaos. A grin tugged at both their lips despite the exhaustion.
The night dragged into its final hours.
The enemy's numbers thinned, but so did Kaito and Soka's stamina. Both of them swayed where they stood, blood soaking their bodies, their weapons slick. Still, they fought. Neither would let the other fall alone.
As dawn's first light crept across the horizon, the battlefield stilled. The last enemy chūnin fell with a golden chain through his chest. He gurgled once, then collapsed beside the countless corpses of his comrades.
Silence spread, broken only by the ragged gasps of Kaito and Soka.
They stood back-to-back, swaying, surrounded by mountains of the dead. Steam rose from the field as the sun's rays touched the blood-soaked mud. The air reeked of death.
Kaito's tanto slipped from his fingers, sinking into the dirt. He exhaled heavily, blood dripping from his chin.—We… won.
Soka laughed weakly, though it was closer to a sob.—If you can call this winning.
Her golden chains dissolved into motes of light, vanishing behind her. She pressed a trembling hand against the wound in her thigh. The bleeding had slowed, but every step was agony.
Kaito glanced at her, then at the corpses littering the battlefield.—We can't stay here. They'll send more.
She nodded slowly.—Forest. Shelter. Before we collapse.
He bent, retrieving Kibō to Shinkō, and sheathing it back into the storage seal. Together, limping and leaning on each other, they staggered off the battlefield. Each footprint left behind filled with blood.
The trees loomed ahead, dark and silent, ready to swallow them whole.
They disappeared into the shadows of the forest just as the sun rose fully, painting the massacre behind them in cruel light.