Murakami Takuya peered through a crack in the earthen wall at the figures outside and tapped the hilt of his sword three times.
"Twenty. No Forehead Protectors, but their positions and weapons are those of shinobi. The bald one up front is no pushover."
He paused, then turned to face the three of them.
"I'll break through. The bald one is the target—he's their command core. If I draw him away, their formation might fall apart. Use the opening to escape southwest. Once you're out, don't stop."
"But..." Jiraiya began.
"No buts."
His tone wasn't harsh, but that was exactly why it was harder to argue with than any order.
He wasn't asking for their opinions. He was giving them an order.
Tsunade bit her lip.
She wanted to say, "We can help," or "The four of us should go together," but the words stuck in her throat.
Because she could do the math.
Twenty against four, surrounded—she and Jiraiya wouldn't be able to take many off their hands.
The best solution was for the captain to draw away their leader and disrupt their formation.
She knew he was right.
But knowing something was right and being able to accept it were two different things.
"Keep an eye on them."
Murakami Takuya's gaze paused on each of their faces for a second, then settled on Kitahara Kaede.
Kitahara Kaede nodded.
The next instant, Murakami Takuya shot forward.
The earthen wall exploded in the middle, sending fragments flying as the first wave of cover.
Before the dust had even settled, he was through it.
The short blade left its sheath with a brief sound, like paper being torn.
The two black-clad men in front reacted—one raised his sword, the other dodged sideways—but Murakami Takuya was a cut above them.
His blade flashed. He sliced through the first man's raised wrist, then struck the second across the side of the neck with the back of his blade. The man slammed into the ground and bounced once.
A third man charged. The moment his blade met Murakami Takuya's short sword, it was knocked flying. He and his weapon crashed into the men behind him, knocking them over.
Three seconds. Three men.
The smile on the bald man's face froze completely.
He took half a step back, but Murakami Takuya was already in front of him.
Murakami Takuya swept his short blade sideways. The bald man drew his katana to meet it, and the two figures locked together, racing farther and farther toward the village.
The gap in the encirclement lasted only a few seconds. The remaining men quickly filled their positions, closing the half-circle again.
Kitahara Kaede stood up behind the ruined earthen wall and swept his gaze around.
Sixteen men.
Fifteen of them didn't seem like much of a threat.
Only one was different—the man directly opposite them, wearing a dark gray short jacket. He looked to be in his early twenties, had both hands in his pockets, and stood with a relaxed posture.
The others were tense. He was observing.
Not a nobody.
Of those remaining, he was the only one who might threaten Tsunade. Kaede would have to deal with him personally.
"Kaede..." Tsunade's voice came from behind him, tight with tension but not panicked. "What do we do?"
Her hands were already clenched into fists, and her stance was steady, as if she were nailed to the ground.
Kitahara Kaede turned his gaze back to the enemy.
"I'll take ten."
Jiraiya nearly bit his tongue. "You can take... ten?"
"You handle the remaining six. Stay away from the man in the gray jacket. Pick any of the others."
Jiraiya opened his mouth, wanting to say, "Are you crazy?" But when he saw Kitahara Kaede's expression, he swallowed the words.
There was no bravado on his face.
Tsunade didn't question the number.
Ever since she'd met him, he'd never failed to do anything he said he could do.
There were so many things she wanted to say—don't get hurt, don't push yourself, don't use your body to block a blade again.
In the end, only three words came out.
"Be careful."
Kitahara Kaede reached out and gently patted the top of her head.
His hand touched her hair, then lifted away, the gesture natural and easy.
Tsunade's breath caught for half a beat.
His palm was dry and faintly warm. The heat passed clearly through her hair—not the feeling of being protected, but of being trusted.
As if he were saying, You can do it too.
"You too."
He'd already moved by the time he finished speaking.
Tsunade froze for less than a second, then clenched her teeth and turned toward her own opponent.
Kitahara Kaede cut in from the right flank of the encirclement, choosing the widest gap between two men.
The first man swung his sword horizontally at Kaede's waist and ribs.
Kaede ducked, and the blade swept over his head.
He held his Kunai in a reverse grip and slashed upward across the man's sword hand. The sword fell from his grasp, and Kaede drove his knee into the man's chest.
The man flew backward, taking the one behind him with him. They both went tumbling away.
Kaede didn't stop. He began forming Hand Seals.
"Shadow Clone Technique."
Two clouds of white smoke burst on either side of him. Two clones cut into the flanks of the encirclement, tying up the enemies on the outer edges.
The original charged straight for the man in the gray jacket.
He knew exactly how much chakra he had. After creating two Shadow Clones, he had sixty percent left, while each clone had thirty percent. They wouldn't last long.
He had to take down the man in the gray jacket before the clones vanished.
The man in the gray jacket finally pulled his hands from his pockets.
He held a narrow-bladed short sword, its edge polished bright. His stance was practiced and steady.
"Interesting." He grinned. "You actually dare to spread your chakra thin with Shadow Clones?"
Kitahara Kaede didn't answer. He thrust with his Kunai.
Their first clash told him what he needed to know—the man in the gray jacket was stronger than he was. He'd lose in a direct contest of strength.
The counterattack came almost on the heels of the block. The short sword slid along the Kunai's blade, its tip darting toward Kaede's wrist.
Kaede twisted his wrist to block, retreating at the same time to create distance.
The man in the gray jacket pursued, his steps steady. He was clearly trying to press forward and shrink Kaede's room to maneuver.
Once Kaede had retreated far enough, he stopped and quickly formed Hand Seals.
"Great Fireball Technique."
Chakra erupted from his throat. The fireball expanded rapidly to nearly the size of a soccer ball and hurtled straight at the man in the gray jacket.
At such close range, it came without warning, leaving little room to dodge.
The man in the gray jacket rolled to the right, dodging most of it, but the flames at the edge swept over his left shoulder. His flesh was burned in an instant, his clothes charred black, and the air filled with the acrid smell of scorched fabric.
He landed and stood up, the smile fading from his face.
"Got enough chakra for this, kid?"
Kitahara Kaede didn't respond. He shifted his Kunai from a forward grip to a reverse one, lowered his stance, and switched from attacking to hit-and-run tactics.
The man in the gray jacket pressed forward, striking repeatedly—
First, he brought his blade down. Kaede leaned aside and let it pass. The second strike swept horizontally, and Kaede ducked. The third came down from above, and Kaede stepped diagonally backward. The blade slammed into the muddy ground.
Every strike missed by a hair.
It wasn't because Kaede was faster. It was because he kept watching the man's shoulders.
The shoulder moved first; the blade followed.
A fraction of a second was all he needed.
The fundamentals Teacher Hiruzen had taught him.
The man in the gray jacket was losing patience. His strikes grew faster and more vicious—aimed at the neck, the backs of the knees, all vital spots.
But the more impatient he became, the more openings he left.
Kitahara Kaede was waiting for one.
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