Naruto : Blazing Legend

Chapter 42: Battle

"I knew that wouldn't work." The voice cut through the tense air like a blade, and in the next instant, Namikaze Minato materialized beside them, his yellow hair catching what little light filtered through the mist.

"Heh, my mistake," Rei muttered, gripping his sword tighter. The blade erupted in flames as he channeled his fire-natured chakra, the heat distorting the air around the weapon. The high-temperature flames sliced through the ice layer like it was paper, while Minato drove forward with a spiraling orb of chakra, slamming it into their target from the front.

"Tsk. Just an ice clone after all." Rei's Sharingan spun lazily as it activated, the crimson tomoe revealing the deception. His fingers still clutched one of Minato's specially marked kunai, knuckles white with tension.

"Did you get a good look?" Yuki Shira's voice carried an almost casual cruelty as he used himself as bait, testing their enemies like a predator sizing up prey.

"Well enough." The dead-eyed shinobi's voice was flat, emotionless. "The Uchiha brat's got decent speed and fire techniques. The blonde seems to specialize in space-time jutsu. The tall one favors earth release." He analyzed them like pieces on a board, already calculating their deaths.

Rei's patience snapped. He rushed toward a genin, intending to end it quickly—one clean kill. But the jōnin moved with practiced efficiency, unleashing a lightning technique that engulfed both Rei and the subordinate without hesitation.

"How ruthlessly efficient. The Blood Mist Village lives up to its reputation." Rei barely escaped using his body flicker technique, but lightning had grazed his left arm, leaving it numb and useless. The casual way the enemy had sacrificed his own comrade sent ice through his veins.

"Tsk, didn't finish you off? Konoha's little princes aren't so easy to kill, I suppose." The Mist ninja bared shark-like teeth in a grotesque smile, stepping over his electrocuted subordinate without even glancing down. The genin twitched once, then went still.

The Konoha team had little experience with Mist shinobi—they'd been too young during the First Great War, and the Hidden Mist had sat out the Second. But seeing how easily this man discarded lives, even those of his own allies, set them all on edge. This wasn't just an enemy; this was someone who would gladly blow up friend and foe alike if it served his purpose.

"I'll take the Uchiha," Yuki Shira commanded, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to death. "Do what you want with the others." The remaining ten Mist ninja moved like a pack of wolves, spreading out to surround their prey.

"Rei, hold on—I'm coming," Minato called out, but he was already moving, disappearing and reappearing in flashes of yellow as he began his deadly dance.

"You're that confident you can defeat me?" Rei's lips curved into a sneer, though his heart hammered against his ribs. The contemptuous expression on his face made Yuki Shira's eyes narrow with rage.

"Defeat? No." The ice user's voice dropped to something almost conversational. "With my strength, I can take you alive. You'll be much more valuable that way."

Yuki Shira was calculating, cold. He'd missed Rei's eyes in the initial chaos, assuming the boy had unlocked two tomoe at most. Even if he was talented, he was still just a child. How strong could he really be?

"Then... let's test that theory." Rei's eyes exploded into crimson, three tomoe spinning as he cast a murderous genjutsu that Yuki Shira like a physical blow.

In that split second of confusion, Rei was moving. Wind-natured chakra shrieked along his blade's edge, and he drove the weapon deep into the ice user's abdomen, cutting through crystal armor and biting into flesh. Only Yuki Shira's desperate body flicker saved him from being split in two.

Damn it. Three tomoe Sharingan... I nearly died. Yuki Shira's composure cracked as the genjutsu's images flashed through his mind—his clan, slaughtered by their own village's bloody policies. Even knowing it was an illusion, the images felt sickeningly real.

"Aww, you woke up? I was hoping to cut you in half." Rei's voice carried a casual cruelty that would have made his instructors proud and his parents weep.

The battle devolved into a deadly game of cat and mouse. Rei pressed his advantage, switching between his flaming blade and wind-enhanced cuts, chasing Yuki Shira through a forest of ice spikes and barriers. Each strike was calculated to maim, to terrify, to break his opponent's spirit.

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Yuki Shira couldn't meet Rei's eyes, couldn't shake the visions of his clan's destruction. Even knowing it was genjutsu, the doubt gnawed at him. Why can't I stop believing it? Why won't the images leave me alone?

The psychological warfare was working. A simple suggestion about his clan's potential fate had shaken the experienced jōnin to his core. Fear was a weapon sharper than any blade.

Gradually, Yuki Shira began to fight back, forcing himself to focus on the immediate threat. Ice projectiles filled the air, forcing Rei to weave hand signs for an earth wall, then leap away to counter with a fireball. The ice user raised a shield, steam hissing where fire met ice.

On the other side of the battlefield, Minato and his team had become instruments of death. The genin were already gone—quick, efficient kills that left their bodies scattered like broken dolls. Only three jōnin remained, their confidence evaporating as they realized they were outmatched.

The Mist ninja had expected easy prey. Instead, they'd walked into an abattoir.

Rei's chakra was draining fast. The Sharingan was a hungry master, and he couldn't afford many more techniques. If he used even two more fireballs, he'd be running on fumes. Yuki Shira seemed to sense this weakness, keeping his distance and pelting him with cheap ice needles—death by a thousand cuts.

While Rei struggled, a scream pierced the air. One of the jōnin had taken Minato's Rasengan full in the chest, his body spinning through the air like a discarded rag doll before hitting the ground with a wet thud. His breathing grew shallow, then stopped entirely.

"Retreat!" Yuki Shira's order cracked like a whip.

The surviving jōnin were already moving, dropping dozens of explosive tags as cover. The forest erupted in fire and smoke, masking their desperate flight.

Minato didn't pursue. His Flying Thunder God technique was still developing—he wasn't yet the legendary Yellow Flash who could slaughter dozens in seconds. He needed his specially prepared kunai, needed time to mark targets. His reflexes were still human, still improvable.

"Didn't chase us? Smart." Dead-fish-eyes was breathing hard as the survivors regrouped. "That blonde kid... those were definitely space-time techniques. Like the Second Hokage's Flying Thunder God."

"All eight of our people, killed by him alone. Too fast." Shark-teeth was pale beneath his grin. Only dead-fish-eyes' intervention had saved his life.

Dead-fish-eyes had exceptional perception—he could sense where Minato would appear, but couldn't react fast enough. By the time he'd prepared to counter, the target had already moved.

"Yuki Shira, you couldn't even handle one brat in single combat?" Dead-fish-eyes' question carried an edge of accusation.

"I misjudged the situation." Shira pressed a hand to his bleeding stomach, where Rei's blade had nearly ended him. "Three tomoe Sharingan at his age... he's already jōnin level. This wasn't the easy capture I expected."

The three survivors melted back into the forest, seeking other Mist teams on the island. They would return—with reinforcements, with better preparation, with murder in their hearts.

Back at the battlefield, Rei swayed on his feet, utterly spent. His hands shook as he performed basic medical jutsu on Gaku and Senzo, sealing their wounds. They'd been lucky—just scratches and cuts. If Minato hadn't moved so quickly, they'd be corpses cooling in the mist.

"Rei, how are you holding up?" Minato's concern was genuine, his eyes taking in Rei's exhausted state.

"Fine. Beat that bastard so badly he ran off screaming." Rei's smile was pure bravado, masking the reality that only Minato's intervention had saved them all. Those Mist ninja... their combat effectiveness is terrifying. Without three tomoe, that ice user would have taken me alive. And what he'd have done to me after that...

Minato collected his scattered kunai, giving the team a moment to breathe. The battle was over, but the war was just beginning. In the Hidden Mist's bloody tradition, defeat only bred stronger, more vicious revenge.

The forest watched in silence, drinking in the spilled blood of both friend and foe.

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