It took maybe five minutes for everything to go to shit. Literally five.
"None of us will be dying today," Anko smirked. She licked her lips and settled into a wide stance, her sandals crushing some dirt and settling a groove into the ground. "You know who we are, right? The Hidden Leaf doesn't bend, it doesn't break to trash like you. Our will of fire burns bright, and I'd suggest you leave before you find out just what that means."
I saw Shimon's shoulders relax a little. Ōkei even let out a sigh of relief. I squashed the sliver of ice that crackled down my spine—unlike these two, I was even more on guard after Anko's little signal of confidence.
The way I saw it, Anko boldly boasting that we'd be okay basically meant that at least two of us were going to die.
Assuring your comrades that everything would be okay was a standard leadership technique—a necessary tool in any shinobi's arsenal, especially for those in command. My mind blurred back to what Kakashi did when Zabuza's mist had splayed through the battle on our original trek to the Wave—the way he'd basically guaranteed none of us would be hurt. He knew we'd be freaking out, so even though he was sure we were toast, he put our minds at ease.
Back in the day, he'd learned it from Minato, who had learned it from Jiraiya.
The funny thing about Jiraiya was that most people assumed he was just a loud, boisterous drunk who'd stumbled into his legacy by sheer luck and the privilege of training under the Third Hokage.
Well, to some degree, that was fair, but it was also a gross minimization. No amount of luck could turn a nobody into one of the Sannin.
Behind the swagger, the antics, and his infamous penchant for getting himself into 'research-related' trouble, Jiraiya had a sharp, calculated mind. He was a well-traveled man who understood the complexities of people, leadership, and war. The truth was, Jiraiya had studied enough psychology to recognize the value of morale—not just as an abstract concept, but as a tool. He'd mastered the art of intentional posturing, crafting his image to appear unassuming, almost comical at times.
Being an idiot wasn't just a personality quirk; it was a deliberate choice. Especially the perversion—that man loved busty women and had criminally wandering hands—but that's neither here nor there right now.
By acting the fool, he gave others permission to relax, to let their guards down when they might otherwise crumble under the weight of expectation. It was a good strategy, but one I saw through.
Anko was doing a version of the same thing now, and that wasn't a good sign for any of us. It meant we were about to be fucked sideways, and she knew it.
I stared at her, trying to gauge the situation. Were we even in a salvageable situation, or was I better off running?
Her eyes were calculating, tracking the way the bubbles moved—how they pulsed in response to the man's subtle movements. She shifted her weight slightly, hands still in her pockets, but I could tell she was preparing for something—waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Which meant that she knew she couldn't overpower or outspeed the mystery ninja. Again, not a good sign. Earlier, off his stealth and relaxation in the face of facing four enemies alone, I would've pegged the man as a jōnin, but given Anko's hesitance, he was probably at least Kakashi's level.
The man chuckled again, his laughter calm, almost disarmingly so. There was a gentle bubbling noise as he placed his bamboo jug to his lips and inhaled. A plume of smoke floated into the night sky as he muttered, "Oh, I'm afraid the four of you are already dead, you just don't know it quite yet. But, you're welcome to try your luck if you believe otherwise."
My danger sense spiked considerably. In a way, that right there was the moment I knew we were in over our heads.
There were different kinds of arrogant ninja. It was a spectrum, really.
The lower tier were ninja who were full of hot air—the kind that no one even bothered taking seriously. You'd find them boasting about their 'undefeated record' at bars or at training grounds, flexing techniques they barely understood. They were loud, obnoxious, and usually the first to go down in a real fight. Those were the easy ones.
Kind of like Konohamaru, bless his stupid little heart. People knew better than to take him seriously, and it was for good reason.
Then there was the mid-tier: the ones who had some skill to back up their arrogance but still underestimated their opponents. They weren't complete fools—they might even be dangerous in the right situation—but they relied too much on their reputation. These were the chunin who puffed out their chest in front of genin, or jōnin who thought they could solo missions that required teams. Their downfall was usually their overconfidence, and if you stayed sharp, you could outsmart them.
These were your Sasuke Uchiha's of the world. Skilled, sure, but a bit short-sighted in ways that could land them in a world of hurt if they weren't careful.
But the top tier? The upper echelon of arrogant ninja? That's where the real danger was. These weren't people who bragged or postured. They didn't need to. Their arrogance was quiet, almost unspoken, because they knew—knew for a fact—they were better than you. That you were a meal ticket to them.
They had the power, the skill, and the experience to back it up, and they wielded it like an artist with a brush. This man was one of them.
The way he stood there, calm and collected, surrounded by his floating bubbles—it wasn't the arrogance of someone who thought they'd already won. No, it was the arrogance of someone who knew you were already playing into their hands. Like a shogi master who'd set up a mate in three moves, patiently waiting for you to realize just how outmatched you were.
And that's what sent a cold shiver down my spine. Because at that moment, I realized we weren't fighting some overconfident bandit or an average rogue ninja. We were up against someone who thought three steps ahead, someone who didn't just fight to win, but to dominate.
The question was, how did Anko match up?
One of the bubbles floated closer, its shimmering surface rippling slightly. The air around it seemed to distort, growing heavier. I stretched out my senses and almost gasped out loud.
It wasn't just a bubble, it was a chakra bubble. It didn't just fill the air, either—it consumed it. Every inch of space buzzed with energy, a low, thrumming vibration that felt like it was sinking into my bones.
"He has a bloodline," I swallowed hard, the pressure making my throat tighten. It was like standing at the edge of a gravity well. The chakra wasn't just a presence, it was a force, pulling everything toward its core. The closer you got, the harder it became to move, to breathe, to think.
Anko noticed it, too. Her eyes darted to it, narrowing. "Huh. So they're not just for show."
I couldn't help but feel the growing pressure in the air. I took an involuntary step back, my breath quickening.
Anko shot me a look over her shoulder. She smiled, but I could see emotions flickering in her eyes like fireworks. There was a lingering resignation in her voice as she snapped, "Stay back, kid. Whatever happens, don't get caught up in this."
Before I could respond, one of the bubbles popped. The sound was soft, almost musical, like a soap bubble bursting in the low light of the camp, but the effect was anything but gentle.
A wave of searing heat and pressure slammed into the ground where it had been floating, gouging a small crater in the earth. It scooped out an entire expanse of dirt and just vaporized it like it wasn't even there in the first place.
The man's golden eyes gleamed behind the veil of remaining bubbles. "You see now? They're beautiful, aren't they? Elegant. Precise. And very, very deadly."
Anko's smirk returned, sharp and defiant. "Elegant, huh? I'll give you that. But I've dealt with worse," She shrugged off her coat, letting it fall to the ground. The glint of steel flashed in her hand. "Let's see how tough these things really are."
With a flick of her wrist, a kunai flew from her hand, aimed straight for the nearest cluster of bubbles. It sliced through the air with a hiss—and stopped dead just before reaching its target, the energy from the bubbles repelling it with a visible shimmer.
The kunai clattered to the ground, useless.
"Oh, you're going to have to do better than that." The man exhaled another stream of smoke, and the bubbles shifted, flowing together into tighter, more organized formations. They swirled around him protectively, but a few broke off, moving deliberately toward us.
"Tch," Anko's eyes flicked to the incoming bubbles, then back to the man. Her hands flashed through a series of seals. A torrent of fire roared from her mouth, surging toward the bubbles. The flames enveloped them, the heat intense enough to scorch the ground—but the bubbles didn't pop.
Instead, they absorbed the fire, glowing brighter, their surfaces rippling like molten glass.
They can absorb chakra.
"Oh, you've made them stronger," the man said with mock surprise, his voice dripping with amusement. "How kind of you."
Anko clicked her tongue, muttering under her breath. "Figured as much. Alright then, Plan B."
Her hands moved again, quicker this time, weaving another set of seals. The ground around her began to shift, snakes slithering up from the dirt, their scales glinting in the firelight. The serpents hissed and coiled, forming a writhing barrier between us and the advancing bubbles.
"Go!" She barked at me, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Get to cover, now!"
I didn't need to be told twice. I scrambled back, ducking behind a boulder just as the first bubble reached the snake barrier. It popped with that same delicate sound, and the explosion that followed sent shockwaves rippling through the ground.
Dust and debris flew everywhere, and I had to shield my face with my arms. Bits of wood and dirt smashed all around, scattering through the world like puzzle pieces on a tabletop. The ground tremored again, and another explosion lanced through the Earth.
Through the haze, I heard Anko's voice, sharp and unrelenting. "You're not the only one with tricks, pal. Let's see how you handle mine."
I peeked my head back to the fight.
The snakes surged forward, striking at the man's bubbles, their fangs glinting. Some were repelled by the bubbles, but others managed to disrupt the swirling formation, forcing the man to step back.
His expression shifted, his calm demeanor cracking just slightly. He raised his hands, and his gi rippled gently.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Very interesting. But let's see how long you can keep up."
The air grew heavier as more bubbles formed around him, larger and denser this time. Anko didn't wait for him to act. With a sharp whistle, her snakes split into two groups—one attacking head-on, the other slithering around to flank him. She moved with them, darting through the chaos with a kunai in each hand, her movements fluid and precise.
The man's golden eyes tracked her every step, his lips curling into a faint smile. "Ah, Mitarashi. You're just as impressive as they said you'd be."
"Flattery won't help you here," Anko shot back, two kunai slicing through a bubble. This time, instead of exploding, it dissolved into a harmless mist. "Figured it out. You're not invincible. Just annoying."
Do I run?
Based on my analysis of the guy, he'd probably pack Anko up before long, and then end up sending us all to the afterlife right behind her. The momentum just wasn't in our favor.
Ōkei and Shimon were long-range fighters, so they could maybe fling some attacks at him without worrying about his bubbles, but even then, I wasn't sure they'd be much help once Anko went down.
Their morale would be in the toilet, for one. They also probably wouldn't appreciate a green-faced genin calling the shots, so I'd have no choice but to fight by their rules.
If I ran, though, I'd probably be able to make it out of here.
I wasn't his target—Anko was. And yeah, it wouldn't be a good look for me to abandon my teammates, but I somehow figured no one would really judge a twelve-year-old for running for his life matched up against a high-jōnin level threat.
Besides, if push came to shove, my cover was going to be obliterated. Just to survive against this guy, I'd need to spam my most powerful jutsu, Rasengan, and Kami knows what else.
I flinched as Shimon landed beside me, pushing up his forehead proctor to reveal big, brown eyes that were shining with worry. "Uzumaki-san. Are you alright?"
"I'm good. Where's Ōkei?"
Shimon pointed to the trees. "He's providing cover fire. This enemy seems to be strong. Mitarashi-san needs support."
"Anything in your bingo book about this guy?" I looked over the boulder again. Sure enough, Shimon was right. Anko wasn't doing too hot. I wasn't sure what happened in the few moments I didn't have my eye on her, but she was bleeding, and her skin was covered in splotchy, red marks.
"No."
"Damn," I swore. The beginnings of a plan started hatching in my head. Anko was swaying on her feet. Looks like I spent too much time thinking—if I was going to run, I should've. We were all going to be wiped out now. "And you're no good close range?"
"I would err on the side of caution in this fight."
"Try to break his concentration with a genjutsu," I yelled, leaping over the boulder as my hands blurred through the seals for a fireball. Landing in front of her, I thrust my sword forward, releasing a torrent of flames and using the blade to fan the fire upward into a sweeping cone.
It obscured the space in front of us in shades of red and orange, but I knew I had maybe five seconds before the bubbles soaked up my chakra and dispelled the fire.
Anko swayed slightly, her face pale and glistening with sweat. The usual sharpness in her eyes was dulled, replaced by an unfocused, glassy sheen that made her look far away, almost detached from the chaos around us.
"Anko," I called out, rushing to her side. She didn't respond at first, her gaze fixed on something invisible in the distance. Her lips moved, but no sound came out, and a faint, almost bluish tint had begun creeping along the edges of her mouth.
My heart sank. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
"Hey! Stay with me!" I shook her shoulder gently, trying not to panic. Up close, I could see how bad it really was—her pupils were slightly uneven, and her hands were clutching at her side, where blood was seeping through her fingers. But the wound itself didn't look bad enough to explain this.
My mind raced, piecing the situation together. The trembling, the discoloration, the rapid deterioration—it wasn't just blood loss. This was something else.
"Poison," The thought slammed into me like a lightning bolt. It had to be. Somewhere in the fight—maybe from one of those stupid bubbles or a jutsu I missed—she must've been hit with something laced with venom. "Fuck."
I glanced back at the battlefield, scanning for anything I might have missed. The bubbles drifted lazily, deceptively harmless, but now I wasn't so sure. Were they carrying more than acid? Or was it something else—a toxin coating his bubbles, seeping into her system without us even realizing it?
I needed to do something, and fast. But with the mystery ninja still standing smugly across the battlefield, his golden eyes watching us like a predator toying with its prey, I knew the clock was ticking.
"Flush the wound. Find Ōkei and have him help," A clone leaped out of my back and dragged Anko backward as my wall of fire was winked out of existence.
"A clever distraction. Unfortunately, that's all it was," The man called out. His jug hung loosely by his waist, and he smiled. Every hair on my arm stood up as he fixed me with a long look. "Hm. You're different than the rest; you are deserving of my name. My name is Utakata. What is your name?"
"Naruto," I returned, flipping my sword into a reverse grip. Chakra began circulating through my veins in jagged lines, blazing like electricity. My sword sparked. "Would it be too forward of me to ask why you're doing this?"
"No, certainly not. Sadly, I can't allow you to delay me too long and explaining would do so," Utakata got in a low stance. Visible chakra sprouted around him, covering his body in a white aura. "You understand, I hope."
"I do," I settled into my own stance. "Well, then. A pleasure to meet you, Utakata. Let's begin."
CRACK!
The ground exploded underneath me as I corkscrewed toward Utakata, dodging in between his bubbles. I opened up the fight with a slash, slash, jab combo I'd practiced against Kakashi a few times. It worked maybe half the time, but it would give me a good understanding of Utakata's reflexes and help place him on my somewhat rudimentary power scale.
Utakata ducked under the slashes and weaved around the jab. He hummed, "Interesting. Not many would choose to fight me in this position. Your friend told you to run, and yet here you are."
I worked through the most complicated kata I knew, but he just danced around the tip of my sword. "Impressive speed for a genin."
He reached forward and slammed his fist into my chest before I could react. There was a surprising amount of force in the punch, and I heard a slight cracking noise as I went skidding backward. Blood-infused spittle sprayed all over the ground as I doubled over.
I was in danger.
I'd spent enough time training with Kakashi to at least understand how fast a jōnin was. I wasn't anywhere near his level, but I could at least acknowledge his moves as they were happening—on the other hand, Utakata's punch had been so fast that I didn't even know it happened until I felt it.
And the power, too. I grabbed my chest and tried to ignore the ache—it felt like I'd be thrown against a building and stomped on by an elephant right after. I knew if I took my shirt off, I'd see an ugly, purple bruise somewhat the size of his fist.
Now, I knew for sure. Whoever this man was, he was stronger than a jōnin. Stronger than Zabuza, stronger than Kakashi.
I still had to buy time for Anko to get healed, though. Or we'd all be dead.
I flung myself into the air, trying to open up his defense with a barrage of kicks and slashes. Utakata blocked them all easily and slapped the blade of my sword away, so I slid under his legs, corkscrewing through the dirt, and snapping one of Minato's molds in place.
A blaze of lightning crackled to life between us, splitting the air with a sharp, electric roar. The energy surged and coiled, jagged tendrils snapping outward like the limbs of an angry storm, illuminating the battlefield in blinding flashes of white and blue. The ground beneath it sizzled and smoked, scorched by the sheer intensity of the chakra.
For a moment, everything else faded—the sounds of the fight, the weight of the burning pain on my chest, even the acrid smell of bubbles. All I could focus on was the crackling arc of power that had erupted in the space between us.
The lightning writhed like a living thing, its presence vibrating in the air—it was pure, unrelenting fury, condensed into a single volatile force. My breath hitched as the light reflected in Utakata's eyes, his expression unreadable, but I could see the flicker of interest there.
He wasn't ignoring the attack. He was watching. Calculating.
The lightning cracked again, louder this time, a jagged spear of light arcing upward. But at the last possible second, the bolt veered, twisting unnaturally, its path curving just shy of his face. The energy crackled around him, close enough to make the air shimmer with heat, but it never touched him.
The faintest ripple of his robe was the only acknowledgment of how close he'd come to getting fried. His golden eyes followed the fading arc of the bolt.
The ground behind him wasn't so lucky. The lightning struck just past him, hitting with an explosive crack that sent shards of earth flying into the air. Smoke and dust billowed around him, but even then, he stood untouched, a solitary figure framed by the chaos.
"A powerful jutsu," Utakata's lips curled into a faint smile, his pipe still poised delicately in his hand. "I will consider it…an escalation."
I scrambled to my feet.
As I stared at the spot where the lightning bolt had veered away, missing Utakata by the barest margin, my mind raced. It wasn't normal. No one, not even the fastest shinobi I knew could dodge a lightning bolt at that range.
Lightning wasn't just fast—it was instantaneous. To dodge it, you'd have to move before the bolt was even formed, predicting its path perfectly. That wasn't just impossible—it was absurd.
But wait—he didn't move. The bolt had missed him entirely on its own.
Something's not adding up.
My grip on my kunai tightened as I replayed the scene in my head. The way the bolt had twisted, bending unnaturally away from him—it wasn't just a coincidence. It wasn't pure skill, either.
Utakata hadn't dodged it. He'd made it miss.
It wasn't impossible, per se—chakra manipulation was the cornerstone of everything a good ninja did. A sufficiently skilled one could influence their environment in ways that seemed impossible.
So, yeah, redirecting a lightning bolt? Sure, that could be done under the right conditions. On paper. Theoretically.
Certain jutsu required precise chakra control, like the Rasengan. Throughout Minato's life, he'd met wind and water-style users who sometimes managed their jutsu with precise control over the air's ionization or moisture—he'd been one of them.
Clearly, Utakata had some sort of bloodline, so altering a lightning bolt's trajectory just enough to save himself wouldn't be completely crazy.
But even then…that would mean perfectly calculating the bolt's path, the energy in the environment, and where it would strike—all while staying calm enough to exhale his stupid bubbles like it was no big deal.
I replayed the moment in my head. The way the lightning had twisted, bending unnaturally… it wasn't just redirected. It looked almost effortless. The kind of thing that didn't just happen, even with chakra mastery.
It would take insane precision. You'd need to control not just the lightning, but the air pressure, the heat, the moisture—every variable in the environment. Even if it was possible, you'd need time to set something like that up. And this guy?
He didn't even move.
The more I thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Even with the best chakra control in the world, doing that on the fly would require a level of awareness and reflexes that bordered on omniscient. The human brain—shinobi or not—just wasn't built to handle that many calculations at once.
And yet, the lightning had missed him.
My eyes flicked to the bubbles again, their delicate surfaces floating lazily around Utakata like they weren't part of a deadly trap. But now I knew better. They weren't just passive weapons or distractions. They were active.
"It's not chakra manipulation—it's the bubbles," I muttered under my breath, the realization sinking in. "They're doing the work for him."
That made more sense. The bubbles weren't just corrosive or conductive, no, that would be too easy. They were altering the environment, bending it to Utakata's will without him needing to lift a finger. They were his safety net, warping the battlefield to his advantage, redirecting attacks before they could reach him.
But how?
The bubbles weren't big enough to house some complex jutsu array, and they didn't seem to emit any obvious chakra signatures beyond their surface tension. Whatever was going on, it was subtle—deliberately so.
My jaw tightened as I pieced it together. If the bubbles were manipulating the environment, they were probably also changing the flow of chakra in the air. They weren't stopping attacks—they were shifting them, subtly enough that it looked natural.
And if they could do that…we really were dead.
Utakata's golden eyes met mine, and for the first time, I felt the weight of his presence fully sink in. He wasn't just strong—he was in control. Not just of himself, but of the entire battlefield. Every move I made, every step I took, was being shaped by the invisible strings of those bubbles.
I bit back the instinct to charge again. I was outclassed, and I knew it. Anything I did, this guy would see right through it. I wasn't strong enough to make a dent in his defense, and I wasn't fast enough to outmaneuver him.
Still, though. I need to keep my foot on the pedal before he realizes what's going on with Anko.
I had to take the kiddie gloves off.
I formed the cross-seal. Dozens of clones burst into existence, their forms flickering as they spread out across the battlefield. Each one moved like a pawn, advancing cautiously, probing Utakata's defenses.
The real me stayed back, hidden among the chaos. One clone darted forward, its Rasengan glowing like a blazing comet. Another circled around, attacking from the side. They were weak moves, designed to test his response.
Utakata didn't flinch. He exhaled another stream of bubbles, sending them toward the clones. The first bubble popped with a hollow snap, consuming one of my clones in a burst of acid. The second bubble floated lazily toward the next, bursting just as easily. More smoke, more acid, but Utakata hadn't moved an inch.
"Come back out," Utakata declared lazily. "I wasn't done testing you, brother."
I directed another wave of clones, spreading them wider this time. They darted toward the bubbles, smashing into them with Rasengans, their sacrifices causing small explosions that disrupted the flow of Utakata's defense. Smoke and acid filled the air, and for a moment, the battlefield was chaos.
Through the haze, I saw Utakata's golden eyes narrow slightly. He exhaled again, sending more bubbles to reclaim the territory I'd disrupted. That was it. That slight shift in his stance, that flicker of movement—I'd found my opening.
Time to gamble.
I formed another Rasengan in my hand. I charged in, weaving through the smoke and acid as my clones drew his focus. One by one, they fell, bursting in flashes of smoke as the bubbles consumed them. But I was already closing the distance, Rasengan spinning furiously in my hand.
Utakata turned just as I reached him, his golden eyes widening. For the first time, his calm façade cracked, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. I slammed the Rasengan forward. But instead of resistance, there was another hollow pop.
Instead of the satisfying impact of flesh and chakra meeting, the Rasengan passed straight through his body, the pressure of it bursting like a fragile bubble.
My heart dropped. "A clone—"
Before I could finish the thought, the air around me erupted.
The explosion wasn't fire or sound—it was liquid. A searing, acrid spray of acid burst out in all directions, the heat and stench hitting me like a tidal wave. I twisted midair, trying to shield my face with my arms, but the corrosive mist was too fast.
The acid hit me, slicing through the air like liquid razors. It burned instantly, a sharp, blistering pain spreading across my cheek and jaw. My skin screamed as the acid ate away at it, the searing pain shooting through my nerves like wildfire. I barely managed to land on my feet, stumbling back as the world spun.
"Gah!" I cried out, clutching at my face instinctively, but that only made it worse. My gloves smeared the acid further, spreading the agony across my skin. The smell of it was choking—like burning metal and sulfur—and every breath felt like inhaling fire.
"Careful," came Utakata's calm, disembodied voice from somewhere in the haze. "My bubbles are delicate. You wouldn't want to pop the wrong one again."
I grit my teeth, the pain making it hard to think.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I hissed under my breath, forcing myself to lower my hands. My vision was blurry on one side, but I could still make out his form through the dissipating mist—a new Utakata, standing just as calm as before, watching me with a faint, infuriating smirk.
"You'll have to do better than that," he said simply, releasing another stream of shimmering bubbles into the air. They drifted lazily toward me, their iridescent surfaces reflecting the faint glow of my Rasengan, still spinning in my hand. "I'm somewhat impressed by you. You're faring better than she did, though I suppose you have your friend to thank. He's filtering out my poison, no?"
"Shut up!" The pain in my face was almost unbearable, but I pushed it aside, my anger bubbling to the surface. What was my backup doing? Shit, they were probably both stabilizing Anko.
I formed a cross-shaped seal with my free hand. If Utakata's bubbles depended on a stable chakra flow, then I could try to overload it.
Overloading the chakra flow in the environment was like disrupting the delicate balance of a magnetic field. Normally, chakra behaved like aligned magnetic poles, flowing in predictable patterns that allowed for control and precision in jutsu. The environment adjusted subtly to those flows, creating an equilibrium—a natural give-and-take between the user's energy and the surroundings.
But when you overloaded it—when you flooded the air with competing, conflicting sources of chakra—you shattered that balance. It was like introducing too many magnets into a stable field, all pushing and pulling in different directions. The currents that once flowed smoothly started to twist and writhe chaotically, canceling each other out in some places and amplifying unpredictably in others.
The disruption created interference, much like how two magnets placed too close together either repelled or attracted violently. Attacks that relied on precision, like Utakata's bubbles, would be caught in the unpredictable waves, their trajectories altered by the unstable flows. His finely tuned control would falter, his carefully crafted manipulations undone by the sheer chaos of the field.
It wasn't just a disruption—it was an unraveling. Chakra was supposed to follow the path of least resistance, like electricity flowing through a circuit. By flooding the environment with so much conflicting energy, I was effectively short-circuiting his control. His bubbles, no longer able to harmonize with the environment, would falter and collapse under the strain.
It wasn't elegant, and it wasn't subtle. But, right now, it was all I had.
Dozens of clones appeared around me, their eyes immediately locking onto mine for instructions.
"Alright, listen up!" I barked, already charging chakra into my hands. "We're not going after him directly. If his bubbles are messing with the chakra flow, we're gonna mess with it even more. Pair up, start charging lightning jutsu, and fire at each other."
Without another word, the clones paired off, crackling sparks of lightning chakra forming in their palms. One by one, they raised their hands and launched bolts at each other, the arcs of electricity colliding mid-air in loud, crackling bursts.
I watched the scene, feeling my chakra stores dip.
The first few bolts were almost tentative, small, and controlled, but as the clones got the rhythm down, the attacks grew stronger and more chaotic. Lightning sparked and crackled across the battlefield, lighting up the haze of bubbles in violent flashes of blue and white. Each collision sent waves of static rippling outward, distorting the air with a low, vibrating hum that I could feel in my bones.
The battlefield became a storm of noise and light as the clones unleashed volley after volley, the overlapping chakra flows creating a wild, unstable energy that made the ground beneath us tremble. The bubbles wobbled in the air, their shimmering surfaces rippling unnaturally as if struggling to maintain their structure.
Utakata's golden eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor faltering for the first time. He raised his hand, exhaling another stream of bubbles, but these didn't float as smoothly. They wavered, their patterns disrupted by the sheer chaos of the lightning storm.
The clones doubled down, their attacks faster and more chaotic now, bolts of lightning crisscrossing the battlefield in a dizzying display of raw power. The air itself felt heavy, vibrating with the unstable chakra flows, and I could see Utakata shifting uncomfortably as the ground under him trembled.
The clearing filled with the sound of smoke bursting into existence as dozens of clones appeared, each one armed with their own Rasengan.
Utakata laughed, "Good, good, you're learning. My, my. Such potential. It almost feels like a waste to cut it short."
He slammed his hands together. Dozens of bubbles crowded together around him, and he blurred through hand signs. Another veritable well of chakra floated into the air, stringing the bubbles together.
They all coalesced into a ball of shimmering light. As the light died down, one bubble, larger than the rest, hovered ominously in place, its surface rippling with an unnatural energy. Then, without warning, it popped.
The sound was sharp and hollow, like a glass bulb shattering underwater. For a split second, nothing seemed to happen. But then, the air ignited with a deafening boom as corrosive vapor exploded outward, a violent surge of energy that tore through everything in its path. The force of the blast was immense, a shockwave rippling outward and sending debris flying. The Earth beneath it cratered, soil and rock disintegrating into a fine, smoldering mist.
Half of my clones were wiped out in an instant.
The explosion wasn't just destructive—it was toxic.
A cloud of acidic gas spread rapidly, hissing and sizzling as it consumed anything it touched. Leaves curled and blackened, the metal on my sword began to corrode, and the very air felt charged with venom. The vapor clung to the ground, bubbling as if it had a life of its own, eating away at surfaces with a relentless hunger.
Nearby, another bubble drifted into the lingering haze and popped with a quieter snap. The second explosion was smaller but still destructive. The chain reaction began to take shape, with more bubbles rupturing in rapid succession, their acidic contents compounding into a devastating cascade.
Utakata stood calmly amid the destruction, his golden eyes focused and unwavering. The bubbles seemed to obey his will, drifting deliberately toward their targets, each one a contained storm of corrosive energy waiting to be unleashed. He exhaled slowly, releasing another stream of shimmering spheres that joined the deadly dance, floating gracefully even as they promised annihilation.
The battlefield was a nightmare of noise and toxic fumes, the explosions blending into a cacophony of destruction. The ground was scarred and pockmarked, hissing with acidic residue that refused to dissipate. The once-still air was now a swirling tempest of heat, light, and death.
Each bubble, though delicate in appearance, was a ticking time bomb, and the more they popped, the closer the entire area came to being consumed.
My heart was pounding, my head spinning with possibilities, but one thing was clear—we couldn't fight those things up close.
We had to run. That was the only way we'd live.
In a flash, the air shimmered with smoke, and dozens of clones sprang into existence, each one already running toward the encroaching bubbles. Their footsteps pounded the scorched earth like a stampede, Rasengans forming in their hands with sharp, spiraling hums.
Another explosion rocked the ground behind us as a clone collided with a bubble, sending a wave of smoke and debris rushing past. I felt the feedback through my chakra—the faint, disorienting flicker of a clone disappearing.
I ran back over to the boulder, where Anko was being worked on by Ōkei. "How is she?"
"Fine, now," Ōkei replied. His voice was laced with exhaustion, and his fingertips were still glowing green. "She'd been poisoned, but I was able to flush most of it out. Your clone probably saved her life."
"Thanks for the save, kid," Anko winced, gripping her side. Her eyes searched mine, and her expression softened. "You're going to wear yourself out, Naruto."
"Better me than all of us," I said, peeking over the edge to see the clones throwing themselves into the fight. Each one was intercepted by a bubble, Rasengans blazing in their hands as they slammed into the deadly orbs.
Pop.
An explosion lit up the battlefield, followed by another, then another. My clones vanished in puffs of smoke as they detonated the bubbles, the sound of their efforts blending into the chaos.
I winced as more clones dispelled, their losses slamming my head with memories and hitting me with pinpricks of exhaustion. My chakra reserves were draining fast, the strain of keeping up with the relentless bubbles and maintaining so many clones threatening to buckle me.
"Shimon, Ōkei," I formed the hand sign again, summoning another wave of clones. They appeared in a flurry of smoke, immediately charging into the fray. "Can you get in there and give my clones some cover? I need to rest for a bit."
They nodded and phased onto the battlefield.
I knew I needed to run, but there was just no way I'd be able to outpace Utakata like this. Worse, now, he'd taken an interest in me for some reason.
Maybe I could leave Anko in here as a sacrifice?
No. It would never work. He'd sense me fleeing. But, at the same time, my body wasn't fast or strong enough to carry both of us out of here, so maybe that was a moot point anyway. My body just wasn't capable enough right now.
My mind raced, scanning for options. And then it hit me.
What if my body was capable enough?
I'd seen ninja do it before—using chakra to boost their strength, speed, and endurance to insane levels. If I could just push chakra into my legs, I could somehow be able to carry Anko faster and farther, maybe even clear the danger zone entirely.
The theory behind chakra enhancement was something I'd, or, well, Minato had heard Tsunade talk about once when she was explaining it to Shizune.
To enhance your physical abilities with chakra, you had to channel energy into your muscles and bones with absolute precision, controlling the flow down to the smallest fraction. It was like tuning an instrument, except the instrument was your body, and if you got the tuning wrong, you could snap a string—or in this case, tear a muscle, shatter a bone, or worse. If you put in too much chakra, you risk overloading your muscles, ripping them apart from the inside. Too little, and the strain could cause micro-tears that wouldn't heal properly, leaving you weaker in the long run.
Tsunade could do it because she was a medical genius. Her chakra control was so precise she could probably balance a drop of water on a thread of silk in a hurricane. I didn't have any of those things going for me.
Even back when he was Hokage, Minato didn't have the chakra control needed to pull off her technique at its fullest capacity. He just kind of hoped for the best when he had to use it.
With his hiraishin, he could travel faster than the speed of light, so he usually only used chakra enhancement for defense or split-second hits. He'd never used it to augment his legs—especially not for a longer period of time.
I looked down at my legs with a grimace. Now, I was a fraction of the age, with barely any muscle and chakra control that left, well, a lot to be desired.
What if I overdid it and tore my own legs apart? My entire lower half would become Swiss cheese. The idea of collapsing in a heap, useless to both of us, wasn't exactly appealing.
Still, it wasn't like we had a better option.
My clones could buy us time, but we were still too close, and with every second we wasted, we risked getting caught in another explosion. We needed to put more distance between us, fast.
Unless…
A twisted idea formed in my head. I stared at Anko for a moment, as an explosion rocked the world behind us. She was staring blankly at the night sky. "Anko?"
"I'm sorry, kid," She whispered. "You didn't even get to be a ninja. You're going to die here with me."
"I'm not," A rattling explosion exploded five of my clones in one go. I saw bubbles floating in the air and swallowed. Shimon and Ōkei were faltering. I knew what I had to do, but it still didn't make me feel any better. "We're not. I have a plan. Do you know any healing jutsu?"
"I highly doubt—"
"Answer the question," I winced as my brain was racked with the memories of a dozen more clones. A splitting headache rammed down the middle of my forehead. Two dozen more clones flashed into existence behind me and ran in. "Now."
Anko huffed, shifting against the boulder. Charred stone smoked behind her, and I noticed her neck was an ugly shade of red, her flesh bubbling. "Yes. I know Mystical Palm, but it's not enough for any of these injuries—"
"Perfect," I scooped her up and flipped her over my back, wrapping her legs around me like a scarf. Not the way I would've liked to have her thighs around my face, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Can you reach my legs?"
"I know we're going to die, but I'm not about to go off to the other side feeling on a little kid—"
"Anko!" I barked. Closing my eyes for a moment, I focused inward, feeling the flow of my chakra. It was like trying to guide a raging river through a narrow channel. I visualized the energy pooling in my core, then trickling down into my thighs, calves, and feet.
Slowly, carefully, I increased the flow, adjusting it with each breath.
At first, it felt awkward, like trying to stretch a muscle I hadn't used before. My legs tingled, a strange warmth spreading through them as the chakra settled into place. I tested the sensation, shifting my weight slightly. The strength was there, humming just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.
Anko growled, "Yes, you little freak, I can reach."
"Use the jutsu!"
"What?"
"Now!" I roared. The ground cracked underneath me as I blasted forward, sailing through the treeline and landing on a branch.
Another explosion lit up the horizon, the sound echoing through the air like a thunderclap. The remaining bubbles disappeared in a cascade of shimmering light.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. We need to go now.
I jumped again, shoving more chakra into my legs.
The strain hit me like a freight train almost immediately. My thighs burned, the chakra-enhanced muscles screaming in protest as they took the brunt of the effort. I could feel the risk with every step—how close I was to pushing too hard, to tearing something vital. But I couldn't stop. Not now.
"Just a little farther," I told myself, gritting my teeth. Three dozen more clones flashed into existence in pairs. I nodded at them, and half of them morphed into Anko. Thank Kami I'd practiced the henge, after all. "We just need to get out of range. Everyone scatter!"
I jumped again, and my clones all fanned out in different directions.
Anko clung to me tightly, her weight throwing off my balance slightly, but I adjusted, compensating with the added strength. She didn't say anything, probably too focused on holding on and not falling.
The trees thinned as we reached a small ridge, the dense canopy giving way to the open sky. I could feel the burn in my legs intensify with every step, but there was no time to stop. I'd nearly died earlier because I hesitated—I couldn't make that mistake again.
The acid had skinned my face. The cold night air felt like tiny daggers. Tears kept pooling and falling out of my left eye.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed another burst of chakra into my legs, leaping up the incline with a force that sent loose rocks and dirt tumbling behind us. The impact rattled through my knees as we landed, and for a terrifying moment, I thought they'd give out.
Somehow, I managed to stagger forward, stumbling a few steps before launching myself into the air again.
Pain flared through my Achilles like molten fire, sharp and relentless.
I forced myself onward, gritting my teeth as another surge of chakra propelled us forward.
This time, we cleared at least a hundred yards, the landscape blurring around us as we landed with a bone-jarring thud. A groan escaped my lips before I could stop it, the pain grinding into my nerves like a jagged blade.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The ground shuddered with each impact as we kept skipping, each leap pushing us farther from the chaos behind us. My legs felt like they were ready to tear themselves apart, every tendon and muscle screaming for mercy.
The weight of Anko in my arms didn't help—it wasn't her fault, but every ounce felt like an added boulder strapped to my back.
But she wasn't just dead weight. I could feel the faint, soothing pulses of her chakra flowing into my legs, patching them up just enough to keep me moving. It wasn't much—just a bandage on a gaping wound—but it was enough. Enough to keep me jumping. Enough to keep us alive.
I forced myself into a rhythm, counting out three seconds between each jump. We were far away enough that I couldn't hear the battle, so I figured waiting a bit to get healed was okay.
One. Two. Three. Another burst of chakra, another leap. The ground blurred beneath us, the landscape flashing past in fragments: jagged rocks, sparse trees, patches of earth.
Each landing hit harder than the last, the impact rattling through my body like a hammer on brittle glass. My legs felt like they were on the verge of snapping, the tendons pulling tighter with every jump. The pain in my Achilles wasn't just fire anymore—it was a deep, gnawing ache that spread through my calves and into my thighs. It was the kind of pain that screamed with every nerve, but I didn't listen.
The air roared in my ears as we cleared another massive gap, the ridge falling away beneath us. For a moment, we were weightless, suspended in the open air, and I could feel my chakra reserves dwindling with every second.
"Almost…there…" I muttered through clenched teeth, more to myself than to Anko.
She didn't respond, but I felt her hand grip my arm weakly. It was enough—a silent promise that she wasn't giving up, so neither could I.
Another leap, another three seconds. The rhythm was starting to blur, my vision narrowing as the exhaustion crept into my bones. But I forced myself to keep going, one jump at a time, the world around us shrinking into the singular goal: get away.
"Just a little farther," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if it was a promise or a plea. "Just a little farther."
"You sacrificed them," Anko's voice floated from behind me. "You knew we weren't all going to make it out."
Boom!
"It was us or them," I winced.
"Hold still!" Anko's legs squeezed around my head as we blasted forward again. We were clearing the distance in bounds. At this rate, we could probably make it back to Konoha in an hour.
"I'm trying," I replied through gritted teeth. The jutsu tingled uncomfortably as it stimulated my cells to accelerate healing. It wasn't painful, but the sensation was unsettling, like ants crawling beneath my skin.
"How much longer can you go?" Anko asked.
"Let's worry about that later," Some blood dribbled out of my mouth. My heart was hammering against my ribs. The explosion from before had sheared my nostrils, so breathing was already impossible, but somehow getting harder at the same time. "I think my body can only handle a few more. I'm going to have to run from there," I tensed, getting ready to jump again. I squeezed Anko's leg. "Don't go dying on me, old lady. I was promised a kiss."
AN: Oops, been a while.
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all! I'm planning on updating a few more of my stories, but it'll depend on when I find some time away from family, so look for updates from now until Monday on all my stories.
I was able to find a few minutes away so I pulled the trigger on this one.
Not sure if this chapter was what you were expecting, but I thought it was really important for Naruto to realize how truly outclassed he was, and have to make a decision he might not love.
Anyway! Join the Discord if you want to bully me to update, just take the spaces out of this: linktr. ee / maroooon
- Maroon