Chapter 38 – A Brilliant Diversion, A Rescue in Disguise
The first rays of dawn slipped through the narrow gaps in the curtains, casting a soft glow across Taichi's sleeping face.
The growing brightness finally roused him from slumber. Groggily, he reached for the clock at his bedside—and froze. Nearly seven o'clock.
That was a first since his reincarnation. Clearly, the toll from yesterday's mental exhaustion had been heavier than expected.
Shaking off the last traces of sleep, he noted with relief that the splitting headache had subsided. Sleep really is the best cure for mental fatigue.
He sprang out of bed and quickly washed up. He had already missed last night's and this morning's basic training—no way he could afford to waste more precious cultivation time.
Especially not now. He had two newly unlocked skills to test and master. If he didn't familiarize himself with their effects soon, he risked losing control in actual combat.
After breakfast, Taichi stepped out of the house—only to notice an unusual "restlessness" in the Hidden Leaf.
Walking along the main street, he spotted Uchiha police officers patrolling back and forth far more frequently than normal—easily two or three times the usual rate.
As he moved further ahead, he glimpsed the fleeting silhouettes of masked ANBU darting across rooftops.
Something serious was definitely happening in the village. ANBU never moved so brazenly unless there was an urgent crisis.
Strange… if memory serves, nothing major was supposed to happen around this period. Don't tell me my little butterfly wings have already stirred a distant storm?
He chuckled quietly to himself, then let it go. Right now, as his own stat panel bluntly reminded him, he was still just a small fry. If the sky really does fall, it's the giants who'll hold it up. Not my problem yet.
With that thought, Taichi picked up the pace toward his training ground by the river.
Unbeknownst to him, his sudden burst of speed drew the attention of several patrol squads. If not for the Leaf forehead protector on his brow, someone would've already stopped him for questioning.
---
At the riverside training spot, Taichi suddenly slowed, scanning the surroundings. The place was unusually quiet. Even the birds and insects that usually filled the air with noise seemed to have gone on strike.
He walked slowly to the riverbank and drew his short blade. This time, his swings weren't sharp or forceful, but calm, deliberate—like a student practicing tai chi sword.
Step by step, he attuned himself to the blade's flow, the transitions between each movement, all while extending his senses outward, trying to feel everything around him.
Not far away, hidden in a small grove, a scar-faced man crouched low, a katana strapped to his waist. Beside him lay a tightly bound burlap sack, contents unknown.
The man suppressed his presence as much as possible, even controlling his breathing to near silence.
Every so often, he cast sidelong glances toward Taichi. The moment Taichi drew his blade, the man stiffened slightly—but then relaxed, sneering when he saw the boy's sluggish, amateurish movements.
Meanwhile, Taichi had pushed his sensory perception to its limit. The unnatural stillness in the air only sharpened his focus. With his Scholar talent in full gear, his concentration peaked.
Soon, two distinct breaths reached his ears.
One was shallow and weak—not the rhythm of sleep, but of unconsciousness.
The other was so faint it was nearly imperceptible, long and steady. If not for its proximity to the first, Taichi might have missed it entirely.
His heart stirred. He had an idea of what was happening.
Keeping his expression neutral, he finished his final sword movement, sheathed the blade, and calmly approached the river. There, he began practicing ninjutsu.
Deliberately clumsy, he released Fire Release: Flame Bullet in short bursts. After each cast, he would pause, frown, and repeat the hand signs, as if he were struggling to grasp the technique.
Ten minutes passed. He had only cast four Flame Bullets.
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In the grove, the scarred man snorted.
This brat's a joke. I could crush ten of him without effort. Must be running low on chakra by now, too.
But just then, a prickling instinct seized him. He threw himself sideways in haste.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
Three kunai embedded themselves deep into the spot he had just vacated—each one buried halfway into the earth. The sheer force made his pupils constrict.
Spinning toward the source, he saw a burly figure charging forward with astonishing speed, a Leaf forehead protector gleaming. The man's hand seal was already complete—the "Tiger" seal.
Fire Style? the scarred man guessed, preparing to counter.
He couldn't afford to be distracted. Forced away from the sack, he knew he had to regain it fast. That was his mission target. Losing it was not an option.
"Fire Release: Phoenix Sage Fire Jutsu!"
The newcomer exhaled a torrent of thirty-six blazing fireballs, raining down like a fiery storm. He himself charged straight through the blaze, utterly unfazed by the searing heat.
The scarred man's smugness vanished in an instant. Sheer panic flashed in his eyes. He abandoned his own technique and retreated in a blur with Body Flicker, desperate to escape the inferno.
The thirty-six fireballs pursued relentlessly, crashing down with thunderous boom-booms along the scar-faced man's retreat path.
Just then, a burly figure suddenly burst out from the flames, fist cocked back, pouring every ounce of strength into a single devastating punch aimed at the scar-faced man.
The scar-faced man crossed his arms in desperation, barely managing to block the heavy blow. Even so, the force sent him flying toward the edge of the forest.
At least there's only one bratty genin outside… he thought with relief midair.
But when his eyes fell on the towering figure who had struck him, his expression twisted in terror. Before his eyes, the burly man slowly dissolved into a puddle of water.
—A Water Clone!
Panic surged through him. He twisted his body midair, forcing himself into position to guard against the next attack.
Taichi was already waiting, short blade in hand, right along the trajectory of his fall. The "burly figure" had in fact been nothing more than the water clone Taichi had quietly created earlier while practicing his Fire Bullet by the river.
He had guided the clone along the riverbank, circled behind the scar-faced man, disguised it with the Transformation Technique, and seized the chance to launch a sneak attack.
The scar-faced man only realized the truth once the water clone dissolved from chakra exhaustion—there had never been more than one opponent.
As his body was hurled through the air, Taichi's figure flickered forward. The short blade in his grip sang with a faint, keening note—the sharp wind chakra infused into it manifesting as a thin, deadly edge of compressed air.
A few short meters vanished in a heartbeat. The scar-faced man had no time to draw his weapon. He could only flood his arms with chakra in a last-ditch effort to shield himself, twisting to avoid a fatal strike.
Too late. A flash of steel and a spray of crimson. His right arm was severed cleanly at the elbow, and a deep gash tore across his chest.
Blood gushed in rivulets. Abandoning any thought of the sack, the scar-faced man spun and bolted toward the river.
But Taichi would not allow him to escape. His hands blurred into seals—Wind Release: Pressure Damage!
A roaring sphere of compressed air shot forth, detonating in an instant. A howling storm of wind blades erupted, swallowing the scar-faced man whole. In a single breath, his body was shredded with countless cuts before crashing lifeless to the ground.
From ambush to kill, the battle had lasted less than two minutes—proof of just how swiftly ninja combat could be decided once the initiative was seized.
Even then, Taichi did not dare approach carelessly. He hurled two kunai from afar to confirm the man's death before stepping closer to inspect.
The corpse yielded nothing—no distinctive features, no personal items, no hint of identity. This would have to be handed to the Interrogation Division for answers.
Leaving the body, Taichi turned to the sole prize of this encounter—the burlap sack.
Opening it, his suspicion was confirmed. Inside was a little girl, no older than two or three. Likely someone's kidnapped child.
He examined her carefully. Thankfully, she was merely unconscious, probably waking within a couple of hours.
Relief washed over him. At least his effort had not been in vain. After all that trouble, it would have been heartbreaking to rescue nothing but a broken body.
But before he could breathe easy, a chilling voice sounded from behind him:
"Brat… you killed Itō."
…