The mist had yet to clear completely, and the wet bridge deck gleamed.
Kiyoshi guarded the blind spot where Tazuna stood, never shifting his feet.
Naruto knelt there, both hands pressed against the planks, his palms drained of color. He tried to push himself up but failed.
A layer of red rose around him.
That was not how chakra was used.
The chakra was moving on its own.
Red surged out from beneath his skin, layer pressing against layer, building into the air and pushing the mist back half a foot.
Kiyoshi had never seen anything like it.
The red gave off neither heat nor sound. It simply piled up in midair.
The mist curled backward under its pressure, clinging to the bridge railing before closing in again, little by little.
The red wrapped around him and contracted inward.
Then he was gone.
The plank where he had been kneeling stood empty, without even a mark left behind.
The nearest ring of mirrors cracked down their centers.
Cracks raced outward from the heart of each mirror, faster than sound.
Dozens of mirrors shattered in a single breath.
The fragments fell, striking the planks in a chorus of clinks and clatters.
Broken mirror shards spread in a thin layer across the deck, crunching underfoot.
One shard landed beside Kiyoshi's foot, spun, and stopped.
On the highest mirror, the boy lost his footing.
He fell, hitting the bridge deck.
His foot scraped half a step across the shards before he barely managed to plant it.
For the first time in this fight, he had failed to keep up.
Every shard across the bridge reflected the same red. It spread along the planks, immersing the entire bridge.
Kiyoshi stared at that layer of red.
It did not look like a jutsu.
The boy