Takuma retreated towards to where he had left No#1 but found the man to be missing. This was a great problem with fighting multiple opponents; help was readily available—something he had recently taken advantage of against a difficult chunin.
He turned back to the second man and recognized him as No#3.
“I must confess, I don’t believe I am someone important enough to warrant an assassination,” said Takuma. “So, before I die, tell me who ordered this hit.”
“You don’t need to know,” No#3 rushed him.
Takuma crossed his arm to block a punch that Takuma weaved back, making it miss by the width of a finger. Takuma tried to pull away, but No#3 stuck close, targeting Takuma’s top to bottom, landing precise strikes in places that hit. Takuma didn’t fall short and managed to disarm the sword on top of getting a couple of soft augmented hits in that did more overall damage.
“Come on, can’t you give a dead man his last wish?” asked Takuma as he swung the sword at its owner. He then immediately turned and used the sword to block a sword strike from No#2. “It’s not that I'm asking too much, and this won’t jeopardize your mission… or is it that you are afraid that I’ll kill you and live to tell the tale.”
No#2 immediately became more aggressive. Takuma smiled internally and let the man think he had control of the momentum as No#3 joined the fight. A 2v1 was just the way Takuma liked it. He observed the two.
He hadn’t noticed it before, but both No#3 and No#2 had shockingly similar fighting styles; the same went for No#1. They had their quirks and adjustments unique to them, but they followed the same combat style—one Takuma hadn’t faced yet—which told him that they were trained at the same source, but more importantly, they were trained at the source.
No#2 quite easily disarmed Takuma off the sword he had stolen from No#3, who tried to reach for it, but Takuma kicked the sword away. No#2 used the opportunity to smash his knee into Takuma’s face, disorienting him for a moment, which gave No#3 the opening to lay down a lethal combo of a punch to the liver, a palm strike to the chest, which sent Takuma’s injury flare up worse than a wildfire, and he finished with a lacerating kunai strike to Takuma’s shoulder right shoulder.
Takuma barely raised his arm to block No#2’s downward strike. The sword clanged against his metal arm bracer; he didn’t cut, but the power behind his strike sent a shock up Takuma’s arm; he could already feel the bruise forming.
Takuma swept No#2’s feet, but he jumped at the last second, and while in mid-air, No#2 threw his word to No#3 as Takuma watched the blade fly over him and landed in No#3’s grip, who swung it down without missing a beat. Takuma moved but got a deep gash on his face.
Takuma’s first instinct was to open his eyes wide to check if his eyes were cut, but he could still see normally. The pain, however, ended Takuma’s information collection process. He wanted to study their moves and observe their teamwork strategies more, but it was clear that he no longer had the luxury.
He grunted and jumped No#2, who didn’t have a sword and took him to the ground. No#2 kneed him in the crouch. Takuma grunted in agony but snarled as he went for a kunai in the stomach that was deflected and ended up in a gash to the side.
His instincts screamed, and Takuma grabbed No#2 and pulled him atop, leading No#3 to slash his teammate. No#3 managed to pull back his swing at the last moment, but not before it had drawn some blood. Takuma yelled as he threw No#2 into the presumably startled No#3 before scampering off into the mist.
Takuma coughed and felt the taste of iron grow heavy. His face burned from the cut; the only silver lining was that the cut was below his eyes, which meant blood wouldn’t drip onto his eyes, hindering his vision.
Bearing through the pain, Takuma weaved hand seals and slipped underground like fish in water using the Hiding in the Rock Jutsu. He emerged in a different position inside the mist and closed his eyes to concentrate on the sounds.
The sound of dull metal rang in his year. No#2 or No#3 had retrieved the discarded sword. He focused harder and heard the faint sounds of boots against the hard ground. The assassins were clearly trained to walk quietly, and they were clearly trying to cover their tracks more now that they had no idea where Takuma was, but as Takuma had said, he was better than them at stealth.
He stood up straight, resisting the pain to his shoulder and sides, and slowly weaved hand seals as he walked towards the sounds. He eventually came to a stop at a distance he thought would alert the two men and stood in silence.
With each passing second, holding the chakra building up in his body from the hand seals made it difficult, but he persisted. It was extremely difficult and straining to hold chakra created actively for a jutsu—but he needed them in the proper position. The more he concentrated, the more Takuma heard his own heartbeat pumping faster due to the adrenaline, exertion, and blood loss. Holding chakra made his injured chest hurt, as though the chakra was threatening to tear his flesh and bones apart to jump out.
The two sounds slowly moved closer— closer to him and each other— until they were inside Takuma’s strike zone.
Water Release: Wild Water Wave
Takuma sucked in deep as the chakra bubbled with vigor inside his body before unleashing a large torrid water wave that hit the two at full force from a shockingly low distance only achievable by the fog from the Hidden Mist Jutsu that kept Takuma’s position hidden.
The sound of water splashing and hitting drowned out all the others, making Takuma lose No#2 and No#3, but he didn’t stop and began weaving more hand seals. Before Takuma could complete the hand seals, a voice hit his ear— it came from the opposite direction. Takuma abandoned the hand seals, letting the chakra go to waste.
He skidded his boots against the ground, making ample sound, and then took a high leap into the air. There was no danger of getting sniped in the air because of the fog. Takuma weaved a new set of hand seals, and arcs of lightning buzzed around his arm, culminating in front of his palm. The lightning from Lightning Release: Shock made a crackling noise, echoing loudly in the silent surroundings.
The ugly grin on Takuma’s pulled on his wound, flaring up the pain, as he dropped down from the sky and shoved the mass of lightning at point-blank range in No#1’s back. It was Takuma’s weakest jutsu, but it stung like hell when shoved directly into the body.
No#1 screamed bloody, and Takuma pulled out a kunai to finish the deal when he felt someone sneak behind him. He pushed No#1 and whipped back to block a dagger. The figure was once again dressed in exactly the same attire, but the clothes weren’t damaged in any way.
‘Number Four,’ Takuma almost blurted out, but he kept it quiet in case the assassins realized he was cataloging them by their clothes.
He got no response. No#4 swung his dagger in an aggressive dance with speed and a deadly technique. Takuma found his hand manipulated; every one of No#4’s strikes was deliberately placed in attempts to pull Takuma’s hand to a position that would make a defense against the next strike difficult. It was a masterful display of precision and understanding of the human body and knife work to be able to pull it off.
He had never faced such an opponent, someone with such high skill. Takuma fared well at the start, but eventually, No#4 got in a strike on Takuma’s lower arm, which opened up a suite of opportunities that were immediately cashed in. Within the next couple of seconds, No#4 moved quicker than ever and left multiple minor but painful cuts across his body.
As Takuma hobbled, a light green glow appeared around No#4’s left hand. A feeling of fear bubbled up inside Takuma. For the first moment, he didn’t realize what the glow was, but the moment No#4 stepped towards him, the recognition alarmed in his mind.
It looked like an iryo-nin’s healing jutsu.
No#4 was an iryo-nin. The assassination team had an iryo-nin. The danger assessment inside Takuma’s head went up two levels. A team with an iryo-nin was a threat, and this one seemed to be proficient in combat as well.
There was no way No#4 would heal him, which only meant that No#4 was trying to do the opposite. Takuma recalled a conversation with Uchiha Kano about how, with some adjustments, an iryo-nin could turn one of their healing jutsu into something that could sever muscles and fry the nerves.
Takuma couldn’t afford that.
But as he shifted his foot, a jolt of pain from his leg almost destroyed his balance. Takuma was sure it was No#4’s skillful knife work mixed with his knowledge of human anatomy.
He went for the emergency measure.
Takuma threw the kunai in his hand at No#4, buying him a second, which he used to take out his lowest-grade explosive tag, which he triggered instantly before throwing it in between them. The tag wasn’t anchored to a kunai, so it fluttered in the air with the edges burning.
It was a gambit he had used before, but this time, the stakes were higher as he had triggered the tag. He couldn’t afford No#4 missing the tag because of the fog.
No#4 froze up and leaped back as the tag exploded, while Takuma could only contract into a tight fetal position, covering his head and ears as the explosive force slammed against him. Takuma was thrown away and rag-dolled against the ground several times.
That was all Takuma could feel.
How long had it been since he had felt this amount of pain? Even the chunin from the Police Force raid hadn’t pushed him this far. It was in his early days of Ring when he had felt so much pain—when he was forced to armor-less, and his defense wasn’t as good as it was today, which made deep stabs and gashes common after match.
He had not missed the feeling at all—but he couldn’t deny that it brought a sense of strange calm.
In the face of real danger, his mind was clear. Perhaps, the existential dread he had carried with him in his first and even some part of the second year of his life in this world had tempered his mental resiliency—the possibility of imminent death didn’t seem as terrifying as he thought.
Takuma weaved hand seals, and he felt a connection established to puddles or water around him. The liquid rose and flowed behind with a fervor, forming a large blob. He flexed his back muscles with his much pain, and eight glorious water tentacles shot out of the blob.
Takuma took out two more of Sango’s painkiller sachets and poured the awfully bitter powder into his mouth. One of the tentacles rose and dropped a mouthful of dirty water into Takuma’s mouth to help him down the medicine. He skipped double-dosing to directly triple-dosing himself. Takuma wished he had a soldier pill, but this was his only option.
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over to Patreón [] or Ko-Fi []. Link here and in signature.
Note: All the chapters will eventually be posted on public forums.