In the Underground Library, paper scraps were like blades.
It was a storm formed from countless sheets of paper steeped in a Blood Demon Art, each sheet edged sharply enough to slice through metal and stone.
They swept in from every direction, cutting off all of Sasuke's escape routes.
The air was filled with the shrill whistles of paper slicing through it.
Yet faced with this deadly cage, Sasuke's expression did not waver.
He simply stood there quietly, letting his scarlet Two-Tomoe Sharingan slowly spin.
In that instant, the entire world slowed down.
The trajectories of the paper, the direction of the wind, the strength of the energy-everything was broken down into the most basic data in his eyes.
He moved.
A sideways turn.
A paper blade flew past the tip of his nose.
A low step.
Another paper blade skimmed his scalp.
He made no sweeping dodges, much less any clumsy rolls.
His every movement was precise to the extreme, like an engraving knife sliding through delicate machinery, always finding the sole safe gap with the smallest possible motion.
The black Wakizashi traced arcs in his hand, its crisp clashes ringing out in an unbroken chorus.
The paper scraps that could slice through steel were easily deflected upon touching his chakra-infused blade.
Within a few short breaths, the paper storm had subsided.
Sasuke still stood where he had been, without so much as a nick in the hem of his clothes.
Silence returned to the basement.
"Impressive."
Paper Man's voice rang out again, carrying a trace of sickly admiration, as though he had discovered a novel toy.
"Those eyes of yours really do possess the extraordinary perceptiveness described in the intelligence."
He began pacing slowly through the library, the sheets forming his body constantly turning, as though searching for