A cry of pain suddenly erupted from Mikoto's lips, raw and sorrowful, tearing at the heart.
"Hahaha! You nearly killed me, brat!" The scarred man's laughter echoed through the clearing, harsh and ugly. "I, a Jōnin, almost fell to a kid like you. Your genjutsu is terrifying! But those seconds will cost you everything. Now, you'll pay the price!"
The twisted delight in his tone made his words feel even colder. For him, Mikoto's sorrow was entertainment.
"Mikoto!" She ran toward Hayashi with all her strength, refusing to hesitate even as danger closed in. The scarred man lunged, hand outstretched to grab her collar.
But Mikoto's body shifted just enough to avoid his grasp, almost as though she had seen the movement before it happened. With desperate precision, she drew a kunai and slashed across his hand. A thin line of blood appeared, and his grin froze for an instant.
"Sharingan?" he muttered, stunned—before ecstasy lit his expression. "Hahaha! If I catch you and hand you over to the leader, I'll be forgiven for tonight's failures!"
Ignoring the wound, he pounced again.
Several shuriken spun through the air, forcing him to halt. Nawaki stood firm, his voice sharp with resolve. "Water Style: Water Dragon Jutsu!"
The yellow-haired boy's hand signs blurred, and a massive dragon of surging water rose from the earth, crashing down on the scarred man with devastating force. "Mikoto, go save Hayashi! Leave this to me!"
His confident smile and shining eyes made him look fearless. But his moment of victory lasted only seconds—the scarred man's figure flickered and vanished, reappearing behind him in a burst of speed. A powerful kick sent Nawaki flying into the trees.
"Now, no one can interrupt our little chat," the scarred man sneered, his shadow stretching over Mikoto.
Mikoto ignored him. Kneeling over Hayashi's limp form, her trembling hands pressed against the bleeding wound on his chest, desperate to hold his life together. Her eyes blurred with tears, and her body trembled with fear.
The scarred man raised his hand to seize her. Suddenly, the sharp sound of fingers snapping rang through the clearing.
His gaze clouded. For an instant, his mind faltered. But he shook it off and snarled, "It's over!"
Except—Hayashi was no longer on the ground.
He stood upright, pale but unyielding, a kunai embedded in his chest, his eyes locked on the scarred man like a phantom risen from death. In his hand, another kunai began to hum with condensed chakra. The blade whistled, spinning with terrifying force.
They were only a step apart. The scarred man's eyes widened as the kunai ripped through his chest before he could evade. Blood sprayed into the night air. He staggered back, pressing against a tree, disbelief written across his fading face.
"…So this is it," he rasped. "Am I… going to die?" His voice grew broken, guttural, dissolving into meaningless sounds before silence swallowed him completely. His body slid to the ground, lifeless.
Hayashi stood trembling, his pale face drained of color. "The pain is bearable… but my rage, you could never endure."
Mikoto's tearful gaze lifted toward him, disbelief flooding her voice. "Hayashi… you…"
He forced a weak smile. "Don't worry, it's just a small injury." But his body betrayed him, and he collapsed to the ground. Blood soaked through his shirt again, each breath shallow.
Mikoto knelt at his side, fumbling with bandages, her hands shaking violently. "It's my fault… if I hadn't been caught, you wouldn't have had to…" Her words dissolved into sobs. "I thought you were dead—I thought I lost you…"
"It's okay," Hayashi whispered, trying to keep her calm. "I saw the trajectory when he threw the kunai. With Tsunade-san's teachings, I know anatomy. All I had to do was avoid the vitals… and trick him into underestimating me. It was the only way."
"You…" Mikoto's tears blurred her vision. She wanted to say more, but Hayashi gently touched her head. His eyes softened. "This was my choice."
His words only made her more determined. If she had been stronger, he wouldn't have had to risk so much. I have to grow stronger, strong enough to fight by his side, she thought, swallowing her tears.
In the distance, hurried footsteps echoed. "Nawaki's coming back," Hayashi murmured. His eyelids grew heavy. "I'll just… faint a little…"
"You can't faint!" Mikoto shook him, panic overwhelming her voice. "If you close your eyes, what if you don't wake up? Please, stay awake!"
Hayashi gave a weak chuckle. "They taught us in the Academy—fainting is just the body's way of coping. Stop crying, Mikoto… you're scarier than the scarred man like this."
Her sobs only grew louder, and she slapped his cheek to keep him awake. He winced, blood smearing across his face. "Alright, alright, I won't faint. Happy?"
He leaned back against her lap, exhaling slowly. For a moment, despite the pain, there was comfort in her presence. "This isn't such a bad pillow," he muttered with a tired smile, gazing up at the stars.
Then his voice sharpened. "Oi, Orochimaru-sensei… how long do you plan to keep watching?"
---