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The Iwa Jonin stood amidst the chaos, his sharp eyes scanning his remaining teammates. The air was thick with tension, the faint glow of a fallen fire lamp casting long shadows over their battered forms. "Are you three alright?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with urgency.
The first ninja, a young man with a fresh cut across his cheek, nodded. "I'm fine. The kunai just grazed me. It's nothing serious."
The second, clutching his right shoulder where a shallow wound bled, added, "I'm okay too. Just a scratch. I can still fight."
The third, however, was in far worse shape. He slumped against one of the earth pillars, his hands pressed tightly against his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. His face was pale, his breathing labored. "The kunai... it stabbed me deep. I'm losing too much blood. If I don't get treated soon... I won't make it."
The Jonin's jaw tightened as he examined the grievous injury. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath. The wound was severe, and the ninja was right—without immediate medical attention, he wouldn't survive. But retreat wasn't an option. Not now. Not with their enemy still out there.
"If I'm not mistaken," the Jonin said, his voice low and grim, "this boy must be Inoiki Yamanaka. He became famous during Orochimaru's attack on Konoha. His fighting style, his abilities—it all matches. He's a sensory-type ninja with incredibly powerful perception. He can locate us and strike without warning. We've already seen that firsthand."
As if on cue, the Jonin's senses screamed a warning. His head snapped up, and he shouted, "INCOMING!"
The two less-injured ninjas immediately sprang into action, their reflexes sharp despite their wounds. The Jonin himself moved with practiced precision, deflecting the incoming kunai with a swift swing of his blade. But the heavily injured ninja, weakened and dizzy from blood loss, couldn't react in time. The kunai shot through the air like a shadow, embedding itself deep into his throat. His eyes widened in shock, his hands grasping futilely at the blade before he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The Jonin's roar of fury echoed through the maze of earth pillars. "Bastard!" he bellowed, his voice raw with anger and grief. But his cry fell on deaf ears. Inoiki was nowhere to be seen, yet his presence loomed over them like a ghost.
To make matters worse, the kunai that had just claimed the life of their comrade now turned its deadly focus on the Jonin. It wrenched itself free from the fallen ninja's throat and joined the one already harrying him. The Jonin's movements became a blur as he parried and dodged, his blade clashing against the relentless assault of the floating kunai. The two weapons moved with unnatural precision, their attacks coordinated and ruthless, forcing the Jonin to fight with everything he had just to stay alive.
The remaining two Iwa ninjas watched in horror, their own kunai defenses faltering as they realized the gravity of their situation. They were trapped in a deadly game, their enemy unseen but ever-present, his will driving the weapons that sought their lives. The Jonin's mind raced, searching for a way to turn the tide, but the odds were stacking against them. The night was far from over, and Inoiki's shadow loomed larger with every passing moment.
The three Iwa ninjas were so consumed by the relentless assault of the floating kunais that they failed to notice the subtle shift in the battlefield. The deadly weapons harried them without pause, forcing them to focus solely on survival. In their desperation, they didn't realize they were being deliberately separated, their movements guided by an unseen hand. Inoiki, closing in on their location, felt a flicker of satisfaction as his plan unfolded exactly as he had envisioned.
With silent precision, Inoiki emerged from the shadows of the earth pillar forest, his presence like a ghost materializing in the night. His eyes locked onto the two Iwa Chunins, their weaker chakra signatures making them easy targets. Without hesitation, he moved with blinding speed, his form a blur as he closed the distance to the first Chunin.
The kunai that had been attacking the Chunin suddenly dropped to the ground, its assault ceasing abruptly. The Chunin, momentarily relieved, let out a shaky breath. But his relief was short-lived. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Inoiki standing before him, his expression calm but deadly. The Chunin instinctively tried to retreat, to move closer to his Jonin leader for support, but his body refused to obey. It was as if an invisible force had seized him, holding him in place like a puppet on strings.
Inoiki's 'Psychokinesis' gripped the Chunin's body with unyielding force. The man struggled, his muscles straining against the invisible bonds, but it was futile. Inoiki's sword flashed in the dim light, piercing the Chunin's chest with surgical precision. The life drained from the man's eyes in an instant, his body slumping to the ground as Inoiki withdrew his blade.
The second Chunin, witnessing his comrade's death, turned to face Inoiki, his face a mask of fear and defiance. But he, too, was already ensnared in Inoiki's trap. Separated from the Jonin and unable to coordinate with his remaining teammate, he met the same fate. Inoiki's psychokinetic grip immobilized him, and the sword struck again, ending his life with the same cold efficiency.
Now, only the Iwa Jonin remained. His grief and rage erupted in a thunderous roar. "BASTARD!" he shouted, his voice trembling with a mixture of pain and fury. But his distraction came at a cost. The two kunais that had fallen to the ground moments earlier now sprang to life, their movements swift and deadly. They shot through the air like bullets, piercing the Jonin's both legs.
The Jonin cried out in agony, his voice a raw, guttural scream. "AAAHHH..." He staggered, his body faltering under the weight of his injuries. But Inoiki wasn't done. The kunai that had been relentlessly attacking the Jonin from before now struck with finality. One plunged into the back of his heart, while the other remained lodged in his throat. The Jonin's eyes widened, his breath catching as he collapsed to his knees.
Inoiki stood over the fallen Jonin, his expression unreadable. The battlefield was silent now, save for the faint crackle of the fire lamp and the distant echoes of the night. The earth pillar forest, once a maze of chaos, was now a graveyard. Inoiki's plan had succeeded, his enemies vanquished. But as he turned away, his mind was already calculating the next move. The night was far from over.
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