Trading blows, wound for wound—
on paper, it sounded stupid.
But Amamiya Kenichi had his own kind of confidence.
Hashirama's Sage Body didn't just come with talent.
It came with that absolutely broken physical constitution.
Kenichi had tested it before.
Superficial cuts, punctures, even some moderate injuries—
as long as they didn't instantly kill him, his body healed at a ridiculous speed.
He'd once stared at a closing wound and silently thought:
No wonder Kishimoto never explained how the First Hokage died…
Guy was probably too OP for a reasonable cause of death.
In the end, you just slap on a vague: "Sacrificed himself for the village."
Looked noble. Dodged the logic problem.
The Root jōnin pulled back from their last exchange, blade slick with blood.
Kenichi didn't hesitate.
Lightning chakra roared to life in his hand again, the ear-splitting sound of a thousand birds shrieking tearing through the forest.
Chidori.
"Still can't see clearly…" Kenichi narrowed his eyes as he rushed forward.
The speed was incredible—but that was the problem.
Without a Sharingan to track movements, everything blurred around the edges.
He could sense openings, but only roughly.
No wonder Kakashi made it a combo jutsu, he thought. This thing really is built for Sharingan.
The Root ninja's silhouette twitched.
Kenichi didn't fully see the counter, only a vague shift of posture.
Instinct screamed.
His body twisted to the side on reflex.
A blade punched straight through his shoulder a heartbeat later.
White-hot pain exploded down his arm.
…But Kenichi was grinning.
Because his Chidori had already driven home.
The lightning-imbued thrust slammed into the jōnin's torso and launched him backwards, smashing him through a tree trunk.
Kenichi exhaled sharply, grabbed the sword sticking through his shoulder, and yanked it out in one brutal motion.
Blood splattered the ground.
He didn't even look back.
He ran.
He didn't have the luxury of finishing the kill.
The fight had already dragged on longer than he liked.
If more Root operatives were on their way—and with Danzō, that was always a risk—letting himself get pinned here would be suicide.
He'd traded one serious injury for another.
The difference was that his body could handle it.
Theirs… probably couldn't.
By the time Kenichi had put a good distance between himself and the battlefield, his shoulder wound had already started knitting itself back together.
The bleeding slowed.
The flesh tightened.
Even the stiffness faded gradually with each breath.
Another hour or two and there wouldn't even be a scar.
If I walked into a hospital now, Kenichi thought dryly, the doctor would probably say— "Good thing you came in so fast, another few minutes and the wound would've healed."
The route out became easier after that.
No more ambushes.
No more Root pursuers.
Looked like Danzō had assumed a jōnin was enough to handle a mid-level chūnin lab assistant.
That tiny bit of arrogance was saving Kenichi's life right now.
He ran for an entire day, carefully masking his trail, then finally took a detour to deliberately fake a messy, panicked escape route—crushed branches, blood smears, broken footprints.
Once he'd left enough "evidence" in one direction, he quietly doubled back and slipped away toward another.
"Sensei should be out by now," he muttered, leaping from branch to branch. "If I were him… where would I go?"
There weren't many options.
Hidden bases that only he and Orochimaru knew about?
Just one.
The place where they'd once locked up that Hyūga bastard child.
Kenichi angled his path that way.
The closer he got, the more cautious he became.
Even if only he and Orochimaru knew about the lab, it never hurt to assume the universe was out to screw you.
What if Jiraiya had chased Orochimaru all the way out here?
What if ANBU had somehow sniffed it out?
Being careful cost nothing.
"...I hear you took down a Root jōnin," a familiar, smooth voice chuckled behind him. "Not bad at all."
Kenichi froze for half a second, then turned, relief blooming in his chest.
Orochimaru stood there, robes as neat as ever, not a hair out of place.
His breathing was steady. No obvious injuries. No blood.
He looked like he'd gone for a walk, not fought another Sannin to a standstill.
"Sensei, you're not hurt?" Kenichi couldn't help but scan him again.
"Just Jiraiya," Orochimaru said with a faint smile, as if that explained everything.
Then he turned, unsealed the entrance, and pushed open the door to the underground lab.
Kenichi followed him in.
That was it, then.
No more Konoha.
No more pretending.
From this moment on, they were officially missing-nin.
He wondered absently what rank the village would give him.
Sensei would definitely be S-rank.
As for him…
In the Hokage's office, heavy silence pressed down on the room.
Hiruzen Sarutobi rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaustion and irritation plain in his expression.
"The situation can't be hidden," he said quietly. "List them."
The scribe was ready.
"Label Orochimaru and Amamiya Kenichi as Konoha missing-nin," Hiruzen said. "Orochimaru, S-rank. Amamiya Kenichi, B-rank."
His voice was steady, but the lines on his face deepened.
Orochimaru was one of the Legendary Sannin.
His defection was explosive enough. The village would shake when the news got out.
As for Kenichi…
To Hiruzen, he'd always just been the quiet kid in the lab.
An average talent, late-blooming chūnin. A research assistant, not a frontline fighter.
He'd never once imagined that boy as a real combat threat.
Standing to one side, Kakashi lowered his head.
His thoughts, already a mess, knotted further.
Teacher and mother-figure dead.
A newborn child left behind in secret.
And now, one of the few people he'd finally started to call a "friend"…
Had turned traitor too.
It really did feel like someone was stabbing him in the chest over and over.
The first knife hadn't finished cutting—another one had already come down.
"B-rank?" Danzō slammed his hand on the table, breaking the stillness. "That brat took down a Root jōnin!"
Murmurs rippled through the room.
Originally, he'd thought cleaning up a chūnin would be a simple job.
Kill the boy, blame everything on him, and use the corpse as a convenient scapegoat to isolate Orochimaru.
Instead?
His man had barely come back alive.
According to the jōnin's report, he'd suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his chest mid-fight—his lungs burning, breathing weakening, vision dimming, his entire body screaming that something was wrong.
By the time he tried to retreat and stabilize, Kenichi's Chidori had already struck.
If backup hadn't arrived when it did…
Danzō would be short one elite operative.
Hiruzen's frown deepened.
"...A jōnin? You're saying Amamiya Kenichi defeated a jōnin?"
He genuinely hadn't expected that.
A week ago, the boy had blended into the crowd at Minato's funeral—just another young shinobi bowing his head in silence.
His file had always been unremarkable.
Average grades.
Average promotion speed.
Nothing about him said "can solo a jōnin from Root."
Danzō snorted.
"And he used this kid's jutsu," he added coldly, eyes sliding toward Kakashi. "Chidori."
Kakashi's fingers curled slightly at his side.
So that was why he'd been summoned.
".…The Hatake clan has sacrificed enough for Konoha," Hiruzen said quietly. "And Kakashi did not know. We will not pursue this further."
His tone left no room for argument.
He looked at Danzō, gaze hard as flint.
Back off.
Danzō clicked his tongue but said nothing more.
"Then…" Hiruzen finally exhaled, picked up the stamp, and changed the record with a decisive thump.
"Amamiya Kenichi will be classified as an A-rank missing-nin."
Orochimaru: S-rank traitor.
Amamiya Kenichi: A-rank defector.
And for now, the wanted notices would stay buried in a locked drawer.
Konoha had lost a Hokage, a Jinchūriki, and a Sannin in rapid succession.
Its wounds were still raw.
Announcing to the world that one of its legendary heroes had turned his back on the village?
That would only invite wolves to the gate.
So the knives stayed quiet.
For the moment.
But out there, in the dark—
They were already sharpening.