Tsunade didn't need anyone's help.
Of the six attackers, she picked the three who charged in first.
The first lunged at her, raising his sword to hack at her collarbone.
Tsunade lowered her center of gravity and sidestepped, spinning out from beneath the blade.
Her right fist shot upward.
She channeled chakra into her knuckles—not much, just enough.
Her fist slammed into his jaw. The sound of bone shifting was crisp and clear.
The first time she'd heard that sound last night, her hand had trembled.
Not now.
It wasn't because she'd gotten used to it.
She simply didn't have time to be afraid.
The second man was a head taller than her and swept his long sword at her, hoping to overwhelm her with brute force.
Tsunade didn't retreat. She stepped forward—right into the sword's blind spot.
At close range, he couldn't swing the blade.
She planted her right foot against the side of his knee, directing her entire weight precisely against the lateral ligament.
His piercing scream made Tsunade grit her teeth.
As she turned, the third man lunged at her from behind.
She didn't look back. Judging by his footsteps, he was behind her on the right, about five feet away.
She drove her elbow backward.
It struck his temple dead-on.
Tsunade stood among the three fallen bodies, blood smeared across her fists.
She turned her head. Through the smoke and shifting figures, she found Kitahara Kaede at once—his back flickered in the gray-clad man's blade flashes, and blood seeped from his left arm.
Her fists clenched tighter.
Finish this quickly, then go help him.
Jiraiya's fight wasn't going as smoothly.
When the three men surrounded him, he instinctively took two steps back.
He wasn't being a coward. His mind was racing through the calculations—his right shoulder was injured, and with the Kunai in his left hand, his strength was diminished.
In a straight fight, he might not be able to beat even one of them.
He had to use a jutsu.
His hands formed Hand Seals before him.
He wasn't fast, but every seal was correct.
He'd spent three months practicing this jutsu.
When Hiruzen Sarutobi demonstrated it on the training ground, Kitahara Kaede had learned it after watching just once.
Once.
It had taken Jiraiya a week to get the hang of it, then another two weeks to create five Shuriken clones.
After that, he'd spent two months practicing alone.
Now—
The three men charged. The one in front was less than fifteen feet away.
Jiraiya drew a breath and released the Shuriken.
"Shuriken Shadow Clone Technique!"
The Shuriken exploded in midair—one became two, two became four, four became sixteen. A rain of steel engulfed the three enemies before him.
They were pinned to the ground before they could react.
Shuriken stuck out of their bodies in varying numbers, most lodged in their limbs and torsos. None of the wounds were fatal—not because Jiraiya was holding back, but because he still lacked the precision to control the jutsu that well.
But it was enough.
All three had lost the ability to fight.
Jiraiya held his throwing stance, panting heavily.
His hands were shaking.
He'd released too much chakra at once.
But his eyes were unnervingly bright.
He'd proven one thing: the technique he'd struggled with for three months hadn't failed him when it mattered.
His hard work hadn't been in vain.
The fighting on the outskirts was winding down fast.
The two Shadow Clones swept through the enemy forces. The one on the left took down three people in twenty seconds, while the one on the right dealt with two figures who had tried to flank Tsunade.
Along with the two Kitahara Kaede had taken out at the start, the three Tsunade had beaten, the three Jiraiya had pinned down, and the five the clones had cleared away, most of the sixteen enemies had been dealt with.
The remaining enemies had no commander. Watching their companions fall one after another, they had no heart left to keep fighting.
They turned and fled in groups of two or three, not even bothering to retrieve their swords.
But Kitahara Kaede's clones picked them off as they fled, taking care of the lot before their chakra ran out.
At the main battlefield,
the gray-clad man and Kitahara Kaede had been fighting for nearly two minutes.
At last, Kitahara Kaede got the opening he'd been waiting for.
The gray-clad man's left shoulder had been scorched where the Great Fireball had grazed it earlier, and the burn still hurt.
Every time he swung his sword, the muscles in his left shoulder had to help drive the motion. Each swing aggravated the torn wound.
After six blows, his sword was at least twenty percent slower than it had been on the first.
That was exactly what Kitahara Kaede had been waiting for.
He wasn't waiting for the man to make a mistake. He was waiting for the man's body to give in before his will did.
The seventh slash came sweeping in. It was weaker, and halfway through the swing, the blade hesitated for the briefest moment.
That was the opening.
Kitahara Kaede dropped low and ducked beneath the blade.
The gray-clad man's pupils contracted. His experience told him what his opponent would do, but his body reacted a fraction of a second too slowly.
Holding the Kunai in a reverse grip, Kitahara Kaede circled around the outside and drove it precisely into the tendon in the man's sword arm.
The sword slipped from his grasp.
The gray-clad man grunted and reached for the Kunai at his waist with his other hand.
Kitahara Kaede was faster.
His knee drove into the man's ribs.
A dull thud.
A faint crack came from his rib cage.
The gray-clad man doubled over, mouth open but unable to make a sound.
Kitahara Kaede followed through with an elbow strike to the back of his neck.
The gray-clad man's eyes rolled back. He dropped to his knees, then pitched forward onto his face. He twitched twice and fell still.
Kitahara Kaede stood where he was, panting heavily.
His chakra was almost gone.
Between the Shadow Clones, the Great Fireball, and the chakra he'd channeled into that final knee strike, he had very little left.
Two wounds on his left arm were bleeding, and the cut on his side from the Shuriken throbbed dully.
He looked up. The first person he looked for wasn't the gray-clad man on the ground.
It was Tsunade.
She stood among the three fallen enemies, chest heaving, blood on her fists.
Tsunade was looking at him, too.
Her gaze was fixed on the bleeding wound on his left arm. Her brows drew tight, and she was already striding toward him.
"You're hurt."
She walked up to him and reached for his sleeve, tugging it aside with even more force than she'd used in battle.
"It's just a surface wound."
"Quiet. Let me see."
Her fingers pressed against the edge of the wound, their tips glowing faintly green—a basic Medical Ninjutsu for stopping the bleeding.
It was nothing advanced, at most constricting the blood vessels temporarily to slow the bleeding.
Kitahara Kaede didn't pull away. He looked down at her.
There was a three- or four-centimeter scrape on her forearm, and her shoulder was torn open at the seam.
"What about you?"
"I'm fine."
"Liar."
Tsunade glared at him. The corner of her mouth twitched, but she didn't quite smile. She lowered her head and went back to treating his wound.
Jiraiya came over from behind them.
He glanced at the enemies sprawled across the ground, then at Tsunade bandaging Kitahara Kaede.
He fell silent for three seconds.
"Could you two stop being so lovey-dovey for a second? I've still got a hole in my shoulder."
Without looking up, Tsunade replied, "Didn't you pull it out?"
"I did, but it hurts."
"Good. That means you're still alive."
"...Could you show a little compassion?"
"Save the compassion for when we get back to Konoha. I don't have time for you right now."
Jiraiya opened his mouth, then wisely shut it.
The corner of Kitahara Kaede's mouth twitched.
It wasn't quite a smile, but it came close.
Tsunade finished treating the wound and straightened up. All three of them looked toward the village.
The faint sound of metal clashing drifted from that direction, broken and echoing through the valley.
Murakami Takuya was still fighting.
Before you continue