A Cruel Game!

"What powerful Taijutsu!" Asuma thought, secretly alarmed.

He had grown up under the tutelage of his father, the Hokage, and few of his peers could match him in Taijutsu. Yet this young Uchiha was fighting him to a standstill.

But Asuma was an Elite Jonin who had survived countless battles.

He soon spotted a fatal flaw in his opponent's fierce Taijutsu: whenever an attack came from the left, the young man reacted a beat too slowly.

"Left Shoulder has an old injury? You're finished!"

Asuma narrowed his eyes and deliberately left himself open, stumbling backward to lure his opponent in. Then he twisted sharply, bringing both blades down at a vicious angle toward the young man's left side.

Slash!

The sound of steel cutting into flesh rang clear.

But the sensation through the blades was wrong.

Asuma's pupils contracted. His opponent blurred and warped, then dissolved before his eyes like smoke.

His blades were buried deep in the ramen shop's wall. Splinters and plaster dust rained down.

Substitution Technique?

No... genjutsu?!

Asuma spun around and found himself still standing at the shop entrance.

Teuchi was still kneeling on the floor, trembling, while Ayame leaned against the wall. Both stared at him in utter bewilderment.

They had watched him flail and fight the empty air outside the shop all by himself.

He'd been played!

Asuma's face turned livid.

A chill shot from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He had fallen under genjutsu without even realizing it!

When had it happened? The moment those Sharingan eyes opened?

The young Uchiha had never moved. He had sat in his chair the entire time, while Asuma leaped around the doorway, locked in a furious fight with empty air.

Teuchi and Ayame were stunned too.

They were not shinobi. Everything they knew about genjutsu came from rumors and storytellers' tales.

As far as they understood it, genjutsu made people see things that weren't real: a stone as gold, a cliff as level ground.

They had never imagined it could make a battle-hardened Elite Jonin look like this—fighting empty air for dozens of exchanges with such focus, such conviction, as though the struggle could go either way!

Was this the Uchiha Sharingan?

Was this the terrifying power of the Shinobi World's foremost genjutsu bloodline?

With a single glance, he had turned the Hokage's son into a clown!

Asuma reacted at once.

His combat experience told him that the first thing to do when he realized he was caught in genjutsu was to put distance between himself and the caster.

He kicked off the ground and shot backward like an arrow from a bow.

But just as he was about to stop and form the Hand Seals to break the genjutsu—

A hand settled lightly on his shoulder.

Every hair on Asuma's body stood on end. When had he gotten so close? How had I failed to sense him at all?

Then he heard a light voice, edged with mischievous amusement.

"You brought this on yourself... Heir-Breaking Kick!"

Thud!

Pain hit him like a mountain collapsing.

It exploded between his legs, raced up his spine to the crown of his head, then burst back through every limb!

Every cell in Asuma's body screamed. Every nerve spasmed!

"Aaaargh!!!"

He let out a scream that barely sounded human, doubled over, and pitched face-first onto the ground.

His Flying Swallow Chakra Blades clattered beside him, the blue Chakra along their edges rapidly fading.

Clutching himself, he curled up like a dried shrimp. Veins bulged across his forehead, and cold sweat soaked his clothes in an instant.

Before he could catch his breath, Yongye struck again.

His hands flashed, swift and merciless.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Four sharp snaps of breaking bone sounded almost at once.

Both of Asuma's arms and both of his legs were broken. He lay sprawled in a grotesque position, the pain nearly knocking him unconscious.

But he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay awake. He refused to pass out like a coward in front of his enemy.

Yongye dusted off his hands, though there was nothing on them, then walked back into the shop and took his old seat.

The whole thing had taken less than ten seconds.

Genjutsu. The Heir-Breaking Kick. Four broken limbs. An Elite Jonin, the Hokage's son, lay on the ground like a dead dog without ever getting the chance to fight back.

Teuchi stared, stupefied. Still on his knees, he shook like a leaf, his teeth chattering. A small wet patch marked the crotch of his pants.

Ayame trembled too. She looked at Asuma, groaning outside the door, then at Yongye, who had settled back into his chair. Her eyes quivered with shock.

First he toyed with Asuma through genjutsu, then took him down in an instant!

That was Uchiha Yongye's strength! And she and her father had tried to pull tricks right in front of him?

They might as well have killed themselves!

Yongye tapped the table, sounding like an impatient customer waiting for his food.

"Where's my ramen?"

Teuchi sprang up as if shocked.

His legs were still weak and his knees still shook, but sheer force of will carried him behind the stove.

Before long, he brought over a steaming bowl of ramen.

The broth was rich and milky, the Chashu golden, the Marinated Egg glossy, the Nori bright green, the Fish Cake tender, and the Dried Bamboo Shoots crisp. The aroma alone was enough to make anyone's mouth water.

Teuchi's legs trembled, but his hands held the bowl steady. He did not spill a drop.

Ayame gritted her teeth.

She walked over and sat on the stool beside Yongye.

Her pretty, pale face flushed scarlet. Her breathing quickened, and her fingers twisted together on her lap. Then she reached out, gently took Yongye's free hand, and placed it against her own...

A man powerful enough to make Lord Hokage compromise deserved such treatment.

Yongye picked up his chopsticks, lifted a mouthful of noodles, and put it in his mouth.

"Not bad."

He spoke around the noodles. Whether he meant the ramen or what his hand had found was anyone's guess.

Then he ate, neither hurrying nor lingering.

Ayame sat beside him, speaking softly and adjusting her position whenever she needed to make things easier for Yongye.

Teuchi returned behind the stove. Head lowered and hands at his sides, he faced the wall and silently recited the menu.

Yongye finished the last bite of noodles, set down his chopsticks, and drained the broth. He belched, withdrew his hand, and stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his clothes.

He glanced at Asuma, who still lay outside groaning faintly, then at Ayame's flushed face.

He took a bill from inside his clothes, placed it on the table, and said casually, "That's for the ramen!"

Just then, a series of sharp whistles cut through the air, drawing closer from above.

Four figures swooped down like hawks and landed steadily beside Asuma.

Standard black uniforms. Animal masks. ANBU-standard Ninja Tool Pouches at their waists. They moved as one, radiating killing intent.

The four masked ANBU shinobi lowered their heads in unison and looked at Asuma, sprawled on the ground with all four limbs twisted out of shape.