Chidori

The three of them followed the sounds of fighting.

The closer they got, the louder it became.

Tsunade crouched beside a broken wall and peered around it.

The open space in the middle of the village looked as if it had been turned upside down.

The ground was split by several cracks. Two wooden houses had partially collapsed, and broken tiles and timber littered the ground.

Murakami Takuya was still fighting.

His left arm hung limp, his sleeve soaked with blood, and he had switched the short sword to his right hand.

A gash ran from his hairline to his brow. Half his face was smeared with blood, and his left eye was already swollen shut.

The bald man stood opposite him, holding a katana. His breathing was barely ragged.

He brought his blade down with a heavy whoosh.

Murakami Takuya twisted aside and slashed back, but only managed to cut the man's clothes at the ribs.

The next instant, a knee slammed into his stomach.

He crashed into the collapsed wooden wall, sending splinters flying in every direction.

He braced himself on his sword and got back up, blood at the corner of his mouth.

Crouched behind the wall, Tsunade couldn't say a word.

It wasn't that she'd never seen a fight before.

But she'd never seen someone keep fighting when they could barely hold on.

Kitahara Kaede crouched to her right, silent.

His gaze wasn't fixed on the brutality of the fight.

He was studying the distance, the angles, the moment the bald man let his guard down after a strike.

And how much chakra he had left.

There wasn't much left after the battle just now.

But he thought he could still use Chidori once.

Just once.

The bald man swung again.

Murakami Takuya raised his sword to block. Steel struck steel, sparks flew, and the force drove him down onto one knee.

The gap in strength was too great.

The bald man suddenly turned his head, his gaze cutting through the dust to the broken wall.

He grinned.

"Still alive, you three little rats?"

Tsunade's back stiffened.

"You're more capable than your team leader." He pressed his sword down another inch. "Those useless subordinates of yours got taken out by three brats."

Murakami Takuya froze.

Taken out?

All sixteen of them?

His lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh.

But his mouth was full of blood, and he couldn't.

Then his heart sank. Why were those three kids still here?

"...What are you doing here?"

The words rasped out between his teeth, rough with anger.

"I told you to run!"

No one answered.

The bald man shook the blood from his katana and laughed.

"Don't worry. I'll finish you first, then take my time with them. They're only three little brats."

After that, he didn't look toward the broken wall again.

Kitahara Kaede noted it.

From start to finish, the man hadn't considered them a threat.

That was good.

What he needed was an opening—the man facing their team leader, his side turned toward Kaede, and a moment when he stood still.

A clear, unobstructed path for a straight charge.

The opening hadn't come yet.

He casually glanced to the side.

At three o'clock, a collapsed house could conceal his approach.

It was about thirteen meters to the bald man's back. Rubble and broken beams filled the way, leaving no room to change direction while running.

The Chidori he knew still couldn't change direction.

He needed to get into position ahead of time.

Kitahara Kaede silently slipped away from Tsunade's right side.

Tsunade didn't notice.

She drew back behind the wall and leaned against it, her chest tight.

"I'll go help." Jiraiya drew a kunai, his voice tense.

Tsunade looked at him.

"Go help? Take a good look. If the team leader can't handle him, we'll just be going up there to take a couple more hits."

Jiraiya clenched his teeth.

"Then we just watch? Watch the team leader get killed?"

Tsunade didn't answer. She lowered her head and stared at her fists.

Was there anything they could do? Some jutsu, some way to fight, anything that might help even a little?

She couldn't think of anything.

That man had been toying with them from the start. Even fighting with everything he had, the team leader had only managed to stay alive.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again.

"...Let's go."

The word scraped out of her throat, more painful than taking a punch.

"While the team leader can still hold him off. Let's go."

She turned to look at Kitahara Kaede.

His spot was empty.

Only she and Jiraiya remained behind the wall.

Tsunade's mind buzzed.

"Kaede?"

No one answered.

She grabbed the edge of the wall and leaned out, scanning the battlefield—

Then she heard it.

Everyone heard it.

Zzz—zzzzzz—

Like a thousand birds crying out at once.

Kitahara Kaede was already in position.

He used the collapsed house for cover, circling to the side of the battlefield with careful steps and shallow breaths.

He hadn't told Tsunade. If he had, she would've stopped him.

He crouched beside the ruins and peered over the broken bricks at the battlefield.

Thirteen meters.

A rubble-strewn path, a broken beam, a shallow pit.

This route would only work if the man was still and facing forward.

Wait.

The team leader took another hit.

Blood sprayed from his shoulder.

Kitahara Kaede's fingers twitched.

Not yet.

The man was still moving.

Hold on.

Murakami Takuya looked at his left arm, which he could no longer raise, then at the gleaming katana in front of him.

Strangely, he felt calm.

The three kids had taken out all sixteen men.

A Genin capable of that was more valuable alive than he was.

There was only one thing left for him to do.

Hold the man off, as long as he could.

The bald man raised his katana high.

Murakami Takuya didn't retreat.

He met it with his short sword—not to block, but to trade his life for a chance to strike.

He threw himself forward and plunged his short sword into the man's thigh.

The blade sank three inches into the flesh.

The bald man grunted, caught off guard by that kind of attack.

His katana veered off course, its edge slicing through the team leader's shoulder, deep enough to expose bone.

They both staggered back.

Murakami Takuya dropped to his knees.

His right knee supported him. His left was already useless.

The short sword remained in the other man's leg.

The bald man looked down at the blade in his thigh, pulled it out, and tossed it aside.

Blood ran down his trouser leg.

The smile vanished from his face.

"Fool."

He gripped his katana and walked toward him, one step at a time.

Murakami Takuya lifted his head.

Only one thought remained in his mind: Had the three little brats gotten away?

The bald man raised his sword.

Then came the birdsong.

The opening was there.

Murakami Takuya's strike had pinned the bald man in place. He'd pulled out the blade, thrown it aside, and moved closer, his attention fixed entirely on the man kneeling in front of him.

His left leg was bleeding, weighing down his steps.

He wouldn't notice someone coming from the side.

He'd never counted the three "little rats" as a factor.

Kitahara Kaede formed hand seals.

His body sent a clear warning: his chakra was nearly depleted. Any more would push him past his limits.

He didn't stop.

Lightning Release Chakra surged into his right palm.

Arcs of electricity leapt between his fingers, growing denser and brighter. Then came the sound—

A thousand birds shrieking in his palm.

He pushed off the ground.

All his strength went into his right foot. The stones shattered, and his body shot forward.

Thirteen meters.

The bald man heard him.

He didn't turn around.

Just a little rat.

His katana came down—

Nine meters.

Five meters.

Two meters.

Kitahara Kaede thrust out his right hand.

The moment the sphere of lightning in his palm touched the man's back, the resistance vanished.

A hand had punched through his chest.

Lightning Release Chakra exploded inside his body. Arcs of electricity shot out from the wound, and blood mist steamed with a sizzling hiss.

The sword stopped in midair.

The bald man lowered his head.

A hand had come through his chest.

Blue-white arcs of electricity flickered around the fingertips.

He tried to turn around. His neck twisted an inch, then wouldn't move any farther.

"Y-you... rat..."

Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth, and the sword slipped from his hand.

His whole body pitched forward and hit the ground, kicking up dust.

Kitahara Kaede pulled his hand free.

He stood there for two seconds.

His legs went weak, and his vision narrowed.

He'd calculated it right.

His body gave out before his consciousness did.

The last sound he heard seemed far away, yet as if it were right beside his ear.

"Kaede—!!"

Tsunade ran over without thinking of anything else.

Kitahara Kaede lay facedown beside the corpse, motionless.

She rushed over, rolled him onto his back, and pressed two fingers to his neck.

His pulse was beating.

Weakly, but it was there.

She rested his head on her lap and placed both hands over him. A green glow appeared.

She couldn't speak.

She wanted to scold him, to ask why he'd charged in alone again, to say so many things.

Not a single word would come out.

Kitahara Kaede's breathing was shallow, and his face was as pale as paper.

Two cuts on his left arm were bleeding, and there was a scrape on his side.

But those weren't the worst of it—he'd exhausted his chakra.

He'd wrung himself dry.

Her eyes stung.

No tears fell.

She wouldn't let herself cry at a time like this.

The green light flickered, illuminating her face and his.

Never again.

She wouldn't let him charge ahead alone again.

Jiraiya was bandaging Murakami Takuya on the other side.

He fumbled, wrapping the bandage twice too loosely, but at least he managed to stanch the worst of the bleeding.

Murakami Takuya's gaze passed over Jiraiya's shoulder and settled on Tsunade.

He was silent for a long time.

That move.

Less than three seconds from the sound to the moment it pierced through.

He'd concentrated Lightning Release Chakra in his palm and unleashed it in a thrust.

That wasn't a technique a Genin should have been able to use.

"Back to Konoha. We're leaving now." His voice was heavy. "This has to be reported to Lord Hokage."

Tsunade looked down at Kitahara Kaede on her lap.

His breathing was steadier now, and some color had returned to his lips.

She stopped the glow, bent down, slung his arm over her shoulder, and carried him on her back through gritted teeth.

Kitahara Kaede was half a head taller than her and weighed like a stone.

Her knees buckled.

Then she forced herself upright.

"Tsunade, let me—" Jiraiya began.

"Help the captain."

She didn't look back.

The four of them—two walking and carrying the two who couldn't—headed back the way they'd come.

Tsunade walked in front, Kitahara Kaede unconscious on her back.

His hand hung at her side, swinging with each step.

She suddenly remembered what he'd said when he was little, after she'd bandaged a wound.

"Just a surface wound."

Liar.

You always were.

She bit her lip and quickened her pace.