Sparring at Dusk

Dusk light slanted in through the watchtower's broken window lattice.

Shisui's eyes opened at that moment.

Not slowly, as if waking from sleep, but abruptly—like a drowning man surfacing one last time, using every ounce of strength to seize his only chance to breathe.

"Outside..."

His voice was as hoarse as sandpaper scraping across dead wood.

"What time is it?"

Lin Feng abruptly turned away from the ninja tool pouch.

"It's dusk. Don't move yet, your wounds are still bleeding."

He pressed down on Shisui's shoulder as he tried to push himself up.

Shisui ignored him.

With his bandage-wrapped right hand, he fiercely gripped Lin Feng's wrist. His knuckles turned white, and the force was enough to make Lin Feng's bones creak. There was none of the confusion of someone newly awakened in those eyes—only a clarity that seemed almost to burn.

"Your Sharingan."

Shisui stared at him.

"How much can you see now?"

Lin Feng's Adam's apple bobbed.

"I—"

"Prove it to me."

Shisui cut him off.

"Don't waste the strength it took me to wake up."

The dusky light slanted in through the window, cutting Shisui's deathly pale face into light and shadow. One half lay in the light, the other in darkness. His fingers began unwrapping the bandages around his right wrist, one layer at a time. His movements were slow, but steady.

Lin Feng saw fresh blood seeping out beneath them.

"In your current condition, you can't—"

He did not get to finish.

Shisui looked up at him.

It was not a request.

It was an order.

The bandage came fully undone from Shisui's wrist and hung in the twilight like a severed white rope.

"Make some distance."

Shisui rose while bracing himself against the wall. His body swayed twice, but he finally steadied himself.

"Activate your Sharingan. Three-Tomoe."

Lin Feng gritted his teeth and stepped back three paces.

Chakra surged into his eyes, and the world began to break apart before him. The direction of the airflow, the paths of drifting dust, every tiny rise and fall of Shisui's shoulders—all of it was caught, analyzed, and predicted by the Three-Tomoe.

Shisui nodded in satisfaction.

Then he vanished.

It was not the disappearance after forming seals for the Body Flicker Technique. Rather, the sealing motions themselves had been compressed to the very limit of what Lin Feng's Sharingan could perceive—he saw Shisui's fingers form seals, saw the flow of chakra gathering, saw the trajectory of the technique taking shape.

But seeing did not mean he could react.

Shisui appeared to his left.

His fingertips swept across Lin Feng's left shoulder.

Not a kunai. Just fingers.

But Lin Feng knew perfectly well that in actual combat, his arm tendons would already have been severed.

"Too slow."

Shisui's voice came from behind him.

The instant Lin Feng turned, Shisui vanished again. This time, he came from the right, at knee level—aiming for the tendons in Lin Feng's right leg. Lin Feng barely twisted aside, and Shisui's fingers brushed against the fabric of his pants.

"Half a beat too slow."

Shisui reappeared three steps away. His chest rose and fell faintly, but his gaze remained sharp.

"You saw it. Why couldn't you dodge?"

Lin Feng panted.

"Because... my body can't keep up with my eyes."

"Wrong."

Shisui vanished for the third time.

This attack came from directly ahead.

Lin Feng's Two-Tomoe had predicted the trajectory, and his body had already begun to shift aside—but at the instant his Body Flicker ended, Shisui changed the angle of attack. The straight thrust became a sweeping strike, his arm carving an arc that sealed off Lin Feng's escape route.

Lin Feng was forced back against the western wall of the watchtower.

His back pressed against the cold stone.

There was nowhere left to retreat.

Shisui stopped five steps away. He was breathing more heavily now, cold sweat sliding down from his temple. Yet his posture remained straight.

"You think the Sharingan is for watching movement trajectories?"

His voice was low.

"Wrong."

"The true way to use it is to see why your opponent moves before he moves."

Lin Feng's chest heaved violently, the tomoe in his Sharingan spinning madly.

"Not watching movements... but seeing through intent?"

"Try again."

Shisui did not answer his question. He merely widened the distance between them again.

During the next two rounds of attacks, Lin Feng was still half a beat too slow.

He could catch the afterimages of Shisui's Body Flicker, see the instant chakra erupted from beneath Shisui's feet and the direction it flowed, and even predict which direction the attack would come from—but whenever he tried to respond, Shisui had already appeared on the opposite side of the predicted point.

In the first round, Shisui's fingers stopped two inches from his throat.

In the second, Shisui drove his knee toward Lin Feng's abdomen, pulling back at the last moment.

Lin Feng dropped to his knees, sweat dripping onto the stone floor.

"Get up."

Shisui's voice came from above him.

Lin Feng raised his head.

Shisui's face had gone white as paper, his lips purple. Blood seeping through the bandages had stained half his arm red. But at that moment, his Mangekyo Sharingan lit up—the Three-Tomoe spun rapidly, drawing ever closer to the triangular pinwheel shape at its center.

"I only have enough strength left for one attack."

Shisui drew a deep breath.

"If you can't take it, then you aren't ready to go where you need to go."

Lin Feng pushed himself upright with a hand on his knee.

"...I understand."

Shisui began gathering the last of his chakra.

Lin Feng could see it—he could see chakra within Shisui's body flowing toward his feet like the receding tide. He could see the structure of the Body Flicker Technique beginning to weave through the air. He could see the flow of killing intent traveling from Shisui's eyes to his fingers.

The flow.

The flow of intent.

Everything Shisui had taught him exploded in Lin Feng's mind—

"Don't watch movement trajectories."

"See why your opponent moves."

"See through intent."

Lin Feng closed his eyes.

The Three-Tomoe spun wildly behind his shut eyelids as his perception was compressed, refined, and remade. He no longer tried to "see" where Shisui would appear. Instead, he sensed where Shisui wanted to attack.

That intent was—

His left chest.

His heart.

From the front.

Lin Feng's body moved before he realized it.

He turned sideways.

Stepped forward.

Extended his right hand.

His fingertips touched something.

Warm.

Shisui's figure materialized before him.

The afterimage of the Body Flicker still twisted and dissipated through the air. Shisui maintained his attacking posture—his right hand thrust forward, aimed directly at where Lin Feng's heart had been.

And Lin Feng's fingertips were pressed squarely against his chest.

If this had been a real battle—

Shisui's heart would already have been pierced.

The watchtower was silent for three full seconds.

Twilight streamed through the window lattice, illuminating the dust floating in the air.

Shisui's Mangekyo Sharingan flickered for an instant between Three-Tomoe and Mangekyo.

He showed an expression Lin Feng had never seen before.

Surprise.

Then he smiled.

"You touched me."

Shisui's voice was soft, as though he were stating something he himself found hard to believe.

"You did it."

"It was you who taught—"

Lin Feng's words caught in his throat.

Shisui's body began to tilt.

Lin Feng rushed forward and caught him.

Shisui's weight when it fell against him was frighteningly light. Half supporting, half carrying him, Lin Feng dragged him back beside the blanket and carefully laid him flat. Shisui's breathing was shallow, and his eyelids had begun to droop.

But with his last strength, he gripped Lin Feng's wrist.

Shisui's hand was cold.

"Lin Feng."

His voice was so hoarse it was nearly inaudible.

"Don't believe that everyone can see the light."

Lin Feng froze.

"In some people's eyes, only darkness is safe."

Shisui's fingers tightened.

"Promise me—"

"Don't naively think you can save everyone."

Lin Feng knelt beside the blanket and held that cold hand.

"...What do you mean? Shisui!"

"Wake up!"

Shisui's eyelids closed.

The hand gripping Lin Feng's wrist loosened and slipped down at his side.

Something had been pressed into Lin Feng's palm.

It was Shisui's kunai.

The weapon that had accompanied him all the way to the end. Its blade still bore dried blood, and its handle had been worn down to fit the shape of his hand. At that moment, it still carried the last trace of warmth from Shisui's palm.

Lin Feng remained kneeling where he was, clutching the kunai tightly.

The last streak of sunset outside was swallowed by the night.

The watchtower sank into utter darkness.

The Crow Mark in his palm suddenly sent out a searing stab of pain—not a warning, but an urging. The hour of the boar was approaching.

Lin Feng took a deep breath and slipped Shisui's kunai into his ninja tool pouch.

He stood.

In the darkness, he began organizing his equipment.