"Hey, where'd that little brat go?" Kakashi couldn't help popping out to ask.
That kid from earlier—clearly just an ordinary child, and yet somehow he'd tanked a Great Fireball Technique, had his neck twisted completely, and was still alive. Kakashi had half a mind to name him King of Not-Dying.
"No idea," Nara Kazuki shrugged. "I used a jutsu, and then he just... fell apart."
Of course, he did know. But no way was he telling Kakashi that.
If he said it out loud, Kakashi might start wondering whether Kazuki's brain was melting out his ears.
Kakashi paused, giving Kazuki a long look. That feeling from earlier... what the hell was that?
Something about all of this was off. There was a piece of the puzzle Kakashi didn't have.
But... whatever. Kazuki was his friend. No need to press.
Kakashi vanished again. Kazuki's test wasn't over yet. There were still three enemy shinobi waiting for him.
Kazuki watched his retreating back with a rare grin. He hadn't expected that sacrifice to actually work, let alone net him 666 free proficiency points. Fully allocatable.
By his system's logic, ten points equaled a full training cycle. So this windfall had saved him 6,660 repetitions.
Only downside? Most of his techniques now required more than 666 to level up. Only one exception—Shadow Imitation Jutsu.
It needed just 34 points, or 340 repetitions.
"Dump it in," Kazuki decided. "I've got two Chūnin to deal with anyway."
The Night of the Nine-Tails still loomed like a guillotine over his future. It gave him a constant, crawling sense of urgency.
Fucking Obito. If it weren't for Rin dying—if she weren't Kakashi's childhood friend—Kazuki would've happily dug her up and cast Edo Tensei just to spite him. Wave a puppet Rin in front of his face and watch Obito's sanity implode.
Tempting... but dangerous. Better to save that ace for when he could actually kill Obito himself.
Kazuki dumped his points into Shadow Imitation Jutsu and hit "Upgrade."
His Shadow Clone had already dispelled, its chakra spent—but it had delivered one last gift.
The Genin who'd been tagging along with the enemy Chūnin? Roasted into BBQ skewers under a barrage of Great Fireballs. Didn't even get a chance to scream.
A fitting sacrificial scent for this remote little village.
The last image Kazuki received before the clone popped? The two Chūnin had noticed something was off—and were turning back fast.
"Upgrade now." Kazuki didn't hesitate.
Enemy units arriving in: 30 seconds.
[Viscous Black Fluid]: Targets bound by your shadow are significantly harder to escape. Upon breaking free, they suffer decreased mental clarity and increased aggression.
[It's Auto Now, Not My Problem]: Your shadow now auto-targets enemies upon activation and binds them independently. You can move freely while it engages.
[Rebirth of the Gender Crisis in the United States]: Targets bound by your shadow suffer momentary gender dysphoria for 3 minutes after release. Willpower reduces effect.
Same bizarre three-choice menu. Same absurd names. Same terrifyingly useful options.
Kazuki stared blankly at the first.
"If this black goo was white, I might understand what this is supposed to be. Is this some kind of cursed mop?" He shook his head.
It was a solid control upgrade. Stronger binding, and a confusion debuff on break. Nasty.
Option three? Purely psychological warfare. Weird, sure—but maybe useful in the right context. Maybe.
But it was option two that hit him in the gut.
Auto-targeting. Shadow goes hunting on its own.
What else could he call it but top-tier?
Against tough enemies? Just pop a seal—Wind Style: Moonlit Shadow Gale—and let the jutsu do the work. Move freely while the shadow hunts? That was cracked.
Forget tactical maneuvering. No more chess matches.
A real version of Shadow Imitation ought to seek out enemies on its own, so the user could focus on the kill.
Kazuki slammed Option 2 without hesitation, then vanished into the scenery.
He wasn't about to stand out in the open like some moron waiting for an honorable 1v1.
"Damn it! Where's that brat?!" The two Chūnin burst onto the scene just seconds later.
The place looked like it had been hit by a terrorist attack. The building half-melted, Hidan gone.
The two shinobi's expressions darkened.
Hidan might've been a loud-mouthed brat, annoying as hell—but he was supposedly chosen by the Jashin cult.
If the cult leader found out they'd let him die, the best-case scenario would be sacrificing themselves to appease their leader wrath.
"Wait... that attacker—" One of the Chūnin glanced around, then froze.
A wall of flame came rushing at him.
Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!
Instinct kicked in. He moved to dodge—but then—
"Honey... when are you coming home? Our daughter and I are still waiting..."
"Daddy! Come back soon, okay? I miss you!"
Just that tiny hesitation—half a heartbeat.
"What the hell are you doing?!" the muscle-bound Chūnin shouted, alarmed. "Why aren't you dodging?!"
In front of the big man, another figure rushed forward—Leaf forehead protector gleaming.
In one hand: a blade. The other: a kill intent that cut through the air like frost.
"That... that sword style... that's not mine..." Kakashi stared in horror.
Kazuki's bladework was so awful, so visually offensive, Kakashi almost covered his face on instinct.
He regretted teaching it to him now. Deeply.
He could already picture it—Kazuki swinging this abomination of a sword for years, and one day dying in battle.
Then Kakashi would have to face his father in the Pure Land... and explain this.
He had to teach Kazuki properly. Or, failing that, convince him to give up the sword entirely.
"DON'T LOOK DOWN ON ME, LEAF BRAT!" the muscle-head roared.
He punched the air hard enough to crack it, lightning chakra crackling across his fist.