Mizuki stood atop the tree trunk, laughing as though he had just heard the world's greatest joke. His wild cackles rang out as a shuriken appeared in his hand, his words dripping with murderous intent. That crazed, twisted grin spread wider across his face, and the bloodlust in his eyes burned without restraint.
The cold gleam of metal.
The chilling aura spilling into the night.
The atmosphere of slaughter thickened under the moonlight.
Iruka met Mizuki's naked, predatory gaze, his heart turning colder by the second. His former friend was gone. Before him now stood only a traitor to the village—Mizuki! And as a Konoha shinobi, Iruka's duty was clear: eliminate the rogue ninja here and now.
At least Mizuki's words carried one reassurance. It seemed Naruto had only been tricked; he wasn't Mizuki's accomplice, nor had he chosen betrayal out of resentment. That had been Iruka's suspicion from the start, and Mizuki's slip had confirmed it. For Iruka, that was enough relief. From the look of things, Mizuki hadn't even found Naruto yet. The situation hadn't reached its worst point. If he defeated Mizuki here, then found Naruto and retrieved the Scroll of Seals, everything could still be explained to the Hokage. A sincere apology from Naruto might settle it perfectly.
That was Iruka's naïve plan. He could never have imagined that everything unfolding here was already within the foresight of the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi. Nor did he know that another figure—the notorious "Fifty-Fifty Split"—was hurrying over, perhaps even waiting nearby.
As for Mizuki, self-styled "genius" and in truth a fool, he had no idea that his every move was already within Konoha's grasp, under the Third Hokage's control. He was still dreaming of killing Iruka, seizing Naruto, and stealing the scroll.
"Iruka! Go to hell!"
Boom!
With a violent burst of speed, Mizuki hurled himself forward.
Whoosh!
His silhouette streaked through the night, arm whipping as shuriken spun from his hand.
Swish, swish, swish, swish!
They shot toward Iruka's vital points.
Clang!
Iruka's eyes sharpened, his body twisting as he flipped aside, dodging several blades. His kunai flashed, deflecting the rest.
But Mizuki was already upon him. That feral grin split wider, and in his hand appeared a kunai of his own, its edge gleaming coldly. The two crossed paths in a rush of movement—
Clang!
Kunai collided in the dark, sparks erupting with a harsh screech of steel.
To an onlooker, it seemed an even match. But Iruka's trembling arm betrayed the truth: Mizuki's raw strength was crushing him in direct combat. The weight pressing against his blade, the icy sting carried through the kunai, made Iruka's heart lurch.
Since when was Mizuki this strong?
Iruka's eyes widened in shock as he struggled against the assault. Mizuki, catching the look, licked his lips. His twisted smile deepened, and he leaned in, pouring on more force, shoving his kunai ever closer to Iruka's face.
"Iruka, you and I are nothing alike. That cushy academy life has rotted you into a useless weakling! You don't even deserve to be called a shinobi. Die here!"
With a sudden twist of his body, Mizuki feinted with his blade, then swept a vicious kick low across Iruka's guard. His kunai slashed down in an arc toward Iruka's chest.
Clang!
Iruka managed to parry at the last instant—but he couldn't stop the follow-up.
Thud!
Mizuki's boot slammed into his stomach. Pain exploded through him, and before he could react, his body was hurled backward.
Bang!
He crashed hard against a tree. The jarring impact and searing burn in his abdomen wrung a groan from him. Blood filled his throat and spattered from his lips, staining him red and leaving him disheveled and weak.
"Hahaha! Do you feel the difference between us now, Iruka? A chunin? What a joke. With that level, you're weaker than a genin!"
Mizuki's mockery dripped with contempt. Like a cat toying with a mouse, he wasn't in a rush. Noticing a chip in his kunai, he frowned, tossed it aside, and smoothly drew another fresh blade.
"Iruka-sensei!"
Naruto had crept close during their clash, intent on waiting for the perfect opening. But seeing Iruka beaten back so brutally, panic stirred in his chest. Even so, he forced himself to remain calm. He edged nearer, breath shallow, aura suppressed.
A true ninja lived at the edge of life and death. Hide your presence, wait in the dark, and when the time came—strike once, kill instantly. That was the shinobi way.