Super Ninja

My opponents began circling me from three sides, their intentions now unmistakably hostile—far from the camaraderie they had feigned earlier. Their goal was clear: to vent their frustration from our prior exchange and reclaim a shred of their wounded pride.

"There are three of us," one of the genin sneered. "You're alone. What are your last words?"

"What do I want to say?" I echoed, a kunai flashing into my grip, held in a reverse stance. "You didn't surround me; I let you get close—to kill you more easily."

"You should get checked at the hospital," another muttered sarcastically.

"You should get checked at the hospital," one of them muttered sarcastically, his lips curling into a smug sneer.

A heartbeat later, all three lunged at me like wild beasts sensing blood. Their sudden aggression caught me slightly off guard—I had expected one to feint while the others probed for an opening, a more calculated approach. But this reckless plan only served to play into my hands.

I blocked the first strike with a sharp clang of metal, deflected the second with a swift upward parry, and spun between them with a blur of motion. The third blow came dangerously close, its force stirring the air inches from my skin. Heart racing, I surged forward, twisting my body like a coiled spring before flipping onto my hands. The world spun upside down as I hurled two kunai mid-motion, their deadly arcs forcing my attackers to scatter. The hiss of steel slicing through the air was followed by a brief, tense silence as I leaped back, reclaiming precious distance.

Reaching down, I loosened the weights strapped to my legs. The heavy straps fell away with a satisfying thud, and I caught one in each hand. With a quick spin, I hurled them with all the strength I could muster. The improvised projectiles became missiles of raw force.

One genin dodged, his movements panicked and unsteady, but the other wasn't so fortunate. The weight struck him square in the chest, the impact landing with a sickening crunch. The force hurled him backward like a rag doll, his body slamming into a jagged rock with brutal finality.

His gasp of pain echoed hollowly in the clearing, his wide eyes filled with shock as his shattered ribcage heaved in vain. Death wasn't immediate, but it came swiftly, stealing the fight from his limbs before he even realized the cost of his mistake. He hadn't anticipated the sheer, merciless mass behind those weights.

"Well, now it's just the two of you," I said to the remaining genin, watching as realization dawned on their faces. Their numerical advantage had evaporated. They now had two choices: fight as a pair or flee. I wouldn't chase them if they ran; my focus was protecting the girls.

Turning back to them, I asked, "Shall we continue? What's your decision?"

They were far more cautious now, their movements deliberate and hesitant. Circling like predators, they sought a moment of weakness. But to me, they resembled cornered rats baring their teeth—small, insignificant, and desperate. Their eyes darted between each other, their breaths coming in shallow gasps. And what does one do with rats in such situations? Pull out their teeth—or better yet, eliminate them entirely.

The air between us was thick with silence, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. There was no need for words anymore. Their companion's dying breath had robbed them of bravado, the guttural sound lingering like a ghostly echo. They now understood the gravity of their situation, their fear palpable in the way their hands trembled as they gripped their weapons. But it was too late. They were only genin—young, inexperienced, and utterly unprepared to face someone like me.

If I were in their shoes, I'd already be retreating, searching for a way to preserve my life. After all, fighting a seasoned jonin head-on was nothing short of suicide. A jonin could crush me into strawberry puree without even breaking a sweat.

Still, I didn't rush forward. Recklessness often leads to mistakes, and I had no intention of underestimating them. I held my ground, my gaze sweeping over the clearing, scanning for traps or any hidden tricks they might have prepared. The tension in the air was electric, each second stretching into an eternity as we sized each other up.

Reaching into my pouch, my fingers brushed against familiar textures—smoke bombs, flash bombs, explosive tags. I let my hand linger, feigning indecision. Decisions, decisions. The genin tensed, their eyes fixed on my every movement with a mixture of dread and anticipation. They weren't wrong to expect a trick. I had no intention of taking them head-on just yet.

A small smirk tugged at my lips as I made my choice. Flash bombs—perfect for what I had in mind. Without hesitation, I lobbed them into the air, spinning on my heel to shield my eyes from the burst of searing light. The flash exploded, transforming the world into a blinding white void. Muscle memory took over. My hand flew to my shuriken holster, the cool metal sliding effortlessly between my fingers.

As I turned halfway, the brilliance of the flash stretched my shadow long behind me, casting a stark silhouette against the chaos. The faint warmth of the light at my back felt oddly poetic. Ayamane would've appreciated such a dramatic moment, I thought wryly, even in the midst of battle.

Without breaking stride, I completed my spin, flinging the kunai with practiced precision. They sailed through the air with a faint whistle, heading straight for where the genin had been standing moments ago.

Any competent shinobi would've moved by now. But these genin were too slow, caught off guard by the flash and their own indecision. The shuriken struck true, finding their marks and pinning them like helpless pincushions. Their cries of pain were muffled, their movements jerky as they tried to free themselves. Blood seeped from their wounds, darkening the dirt beneath them. For now, the embedded shuriken acted as makeshift plugs, stemming the flow. But desperation often overpowers logic in moments like this. Their frantic struggles would only worsen the injuries—and hasten their defeat.

"And here I thought you'd be more impressive," I muttered, my voice tinged with mild disappointment. "At the Administration Building, you seemed so… feisty. What a letdown."

One of the genin, who had earlier tried to overpower me, suddenly rose, dislodging the shuriken from his body. Blood poured freely from his wounds, painting his torso in dark crimson. Without treatment, he wouldn't last long. Perhaps he thought he could turn the tide for his team—a noble but futile effort.

"Earth Style! Stone Spear Jutsu!"

Channeling chakra, I thrust my hand forward, summoning the earth's raw power. A jagged spear of stone erupted from the ground with a violent roar, its sharp edges gleaming in the dim light. The spear struck him with unerring precision, piercing his torso and ripping through flesh and bone as easily as paper.

He sagged against the unforgiving weapon, his body impaled like a moth pinned to a board. One trembling hand reached out, bracing himself on the rough, cold surface of the stone spear. His wide eyes locked onto mine, filled with a chaotic mix of panic, agony, and the desperate will to survive. His legs twitched, forcing his body forward, each agonizing step driving the spear deeper into his torso. Blood spilled from the wound in thick, dark rivulets, dripping onto the ground in a gruesome rhythm.

"Khah! Khah! Khah!"

His broken, wet gasps clawed at the silence, echoing like a dying animal's last cry. Dark blood gushed from his mouth, staining his lips and chin before cascading down to join the growing pool at his feet. The sticky, metallic liquid seeped into the earth, blooming outward in a macabre flower that marked the end of his struggle.

Finally, his head drooped forward, the light in his eyes extinguished. His body slumped lifelessly against the spear, the tension in his muscles fading as death claimed him. The spear stood tall and merciless, an unyielding monument to his futile bravery. Beneath him, the dark liquid continued to spread, a stark reminder of the brutal reality of the battlefield. He was gone.

Now, only one genin remained. He sat slumped on the ground, panting heavily, his wide eyes pleading for mercy.

"Spare me," he croaked, licking his dry, cracked lips.

After a moment of thought, I relented. "Fine," I said, tossing him a med kit. "Consider us even. Don't disappoint me."

I turned my back on him, but my instincts remained sharp. Something told me he wasn't finished—and I was right. Slowly, he reached into his pouch. His movement was deliberate, cautious, but I was watching closely.

Suddenly, he hurled two kunai with explosive tags attached. One flew toward the tent where Shiko and Ayamane rested; the other was aimed straight at me. The twin threats left little room to react.

Prepared for betrayal, I lunged to the side, releasing several kunai in response. One intercepted the kunai aimed at the tent, deflecting it before the tag could detonate. Another followed a secondary path in case he attempted to redirect the kunai with wire. The third flew straight and true, aimed to end him.

"Ka-tsu!" he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.

The kunai collided, triggering a powerful explosion. Flames and shockwaves rippled outward, scorching the stone floor. The damage was superficial, but the force of the blast left its mark.

"Ah!" the genin gasped as my kunai found its mark, burying itself deep in his throat. Blood poured in heavy streams, his body already immobilized by the shuriken.

He collapsed face-first onto the rocks, rolling onto his side before exhaling a final, shuddering breath.

"Tsk." I clicked my tongue, irritation evident.

Familiar chakra signatures suddenly appeared on the edge of my senses—Captain Kiochi, Hatake Kakashi, and one of the examiners. They observed from a distance, choosing to bypass the Illusionary Basin rather than venture through it. Could we have done the same? Perhaps. But hindsight wasn't helpful now. Oh well…

I turned to the simplest yet most interesting task: looting. Dragging the corpses together, I began carefully searching their pouches. Caution was essential—shinobi often left traps for opportunists like me.

They carried the usual assortment: weapons, explosive tags, medical kits, and a variety of other supplies. Among their belongings, I found their written test papers and maps. Their maps, intriguingly, were far more detailed than ours, forming a seamless route to the meeting point without missing sections.

Once I'd stripped the bodies of all useful items, I created clones to drag them deeper into the Illusionary Basin. What became of their remains didn't concern me.

Peeking into the tent, I checked on Shiko and Ayamane.

Both were struggling. Their recovery from the Illusionary Basin's effects was slow and unsettling. Their sleep was restless, plagued by nightmares. Pale as chalk, their bodies twitched at the slightest noise. Staying here much longer wasn't an option—we had to move and advance to the next phase of the exam.

If this was the theoretical portion, how much harder would the practical test be?

I wondered how I could help them. One idea lingered in my mind. Based on my experience, natural energy was a strong defense against the Basin's effects. If it could protect, perhaps it could heal.

Sending a clone outside to maintain security, I knelt beside Shiko and Ayamane. Taking their hands, I began to meditate, gathering natural energy into my body and carefully transferring it to them.

The natural energy gradually merged with their chakra. Their chakra was unusually stable and uniform—an oddity for humans. Could the Basin's gas have caused this? It seemed likely.

I maintained precise control over the energy flow, ensuring it didn't overwhelm them. Their chakra became more active and dynamic, visibly improving their physical condition.

At one point, their chakra began to move autonomously, a potential risk. Recognizing the danger of irreversible changes, I immediately began extracting the excess natural energy. The last thing I wanted was for them to turn into stone statues—an irreversible disaster.

When I opened my eyes, I noticed their faces had regained a healthy flush. The ghostly pallor was gone, replaced by a subtle warmth. I exhaled deeply, satisfied with the progress. Moments later, they began breathing heavily and opened their eyes almost simultaneously. The suddenness startled me—but not as much as the scream that followed.

"Aaaaaahhh!"

Their shrill cries were deafening. I resisted the urge to cover my ears as Shiko and Ayamane screamed in unison.

"Calm down, calm down," I urged, keeping my voice steady as I tried to bring them back to themselves. Their wide, darting eyes searched the tent, unable to focus on anything. Taking their hands firmly, I added, "Look at me. Focus on my eyes, then my nose."

Catching Shiko's gaze, I held it until she began to calm down. Turning to Ayamane, I repeated the process, guiding her to center herself.

"Now take a deep breath, hold it, and count to five," I instructed, demonstrating with a slow, deliberate inhale. "One, two, three, four, five. Now, exhale slowly. Fuuuuuh."

"Fuuuuh," they exhaled shakily, their breathing evening out.

"Again—slowly breathe in, count to five, and exhale slowly," I repeated, keeping my tone soft but firm.

We repeated the exercise five more times until they fully regained their composure. Still holding their hands, I smiled warmly, hoping to lift their spirits. Sometimes, even a small smile can brighten the darkest day.

"Alright, Shiko, Ayamane, freshen up," I said gently. "I'll be waiting outside with hot tea and a snack."

Making sure they understood, I stepped outside and dispelled my clone. Its report confirmed nothing significant had occurred while I'd been tending to the girls. Shinobi are resilient—what might break the average person could send a shinobi to the hospital for a few weeks, but they'd return to duty soon after, seemingly unfazed. I was confident they would recover.

Preparing tea and food didn't take long. About fifteen minutes later, Shiko and Ayamane emerged from the tent. Though they still appeared drained, they were conscious and more responsive. Settling onto the rocks, they inhaled the aroma of the food and tea, visibly comforted by the simple gesture.

"How do you feel?" I asked, watching them closely.

"Like I've had a week-long bender," Shiko said after a pause. "I've never been so scared in my life."

"Same," Ayamane agreed, her voice trembling. "I don't even know if I'll be able to sleep tonight."

"Don't forget, we're still in the Chunin Exams," I reminded them gently but firmly. "Stopping isn't an option. Are you ready to keep going?"

Shiko hesitated before answering. "I think so. What about you, Ayamane?"

"I think I'm ready too," Ayamane replied. "We just need some food first. From the smell of it, it's almost ready."

"Good," I nodded with satisfaction. "Let's eat and then move out. The sooner we leave, the better."

"So do we," they agreed in unison.

With every passing minute under the bright sun and cool breeze, Shiko and Ayamane seemed to regain their vitality. It was as though life itself was flowing back into their weary bodies, like they were waking from a heavy, oppressive slumber. The refreshing air and warm sunlight worked wonders, gradually restoring lightness to their movements and confidence to their demeanor.

The tea and food proved effective at revitalizing them.

"How are you feeling now?" I asked, watching them finish their tea.

"Better," Ayamane replied, her voice steadier. "Much better."

"Same here," Shiko added. "I'd love more rest, but it's smarter to move to a new spot."

"Perfect," I said with a smile. "Then let's pack up and head out."