"Huh? Finish quickly? What do you— Wait… wait, you can't mean… you're seriously having No. 3 use that jutsu?!"
At first, No. 2 didn't understand what the captain implied. But the moment he followed the captain's gaze and saw No. 3's trembling-with-excitement silhouette preparing something behind them, realization struck him like a slap.
He spun back toward the captain, face pale.
"Oi, oi—are you insane?! Using a jutsu that inhuman to extract intel… if word gets out, we'll be branded as monsters! No one will ever let this go!"
He wasn't wrong.
The Konoha squad leader had lost his tongue—he couldn't speak again. Even with healing ninjutsu, the blood loss and shock ensured his life was dripping away like water from a cracked pot. Under normal circumstances, unless he carried written documents, they'd get nothing from him.
But ninja had access to all kinds of jutsu. And this particular team… had one they were never supposed to have.
Not like the clueless scion, No. 2 knew very well what No. 3 was capable of. Alongside sensory and healing skills, No. 3 also carried something darker—a damaged mental-technique scroll seized from the Yamanaka Clan during the Third Great Ninja War. The scroll was torn, incomplete, barely understandable, and—for a normal person—completely useless.
But No. 3 wasn't normal.
Piece by piece, year after year, he decoded it. What he gained was no complete technique, no polished clan secret. It was a crude shell—an imitation. A forcible memory intrusion jutsu, capable of shoving his consciousness into someone else's mind and ripping answers straight from their memories.
But because he lacked Yamanaka blood, the price of using it was horrific.
It consumed absurd amounts of chakra.
Its success rate was unpredictable.
And the victim—
The victim's mind was guaranteed to break.
Some ended paralyzed for life.
Some became empty, catatonic shells.
Some… simply died under the agony.
Even the Yamanaka's genuine Mind-Body techniques were dangerous. This was worse. A reckless counterfeit. A weapon as taboo as the condemned dum-dum bullets from Naruto's previous life—banned not because they were ineffective, but because they were too effective in the worst possible way.
To use such a jutsu, one needed strength great enough to ignore the world's hatred—like Orochimaru, who still performed human experiments and didn't lose a minute of sleep over it.
But today's team didn't have the luxury of morality.
And the captain knew the truth.
The Konoha ninja had already seen their faces. There was only one ending waiting for him.
So he didn't even hesitate.
"He already knows we're here. Keeping him alive isn't part of the plan."
Calm as still water, the captain nodded toward No. 3—giving silent permission to begin.
"Whatever he experiences from now on… it doesn't matter. Just clean up afterward. No loose ends."
'He… he's really doing it…!'
The Konoha squad leader, regaining faint consciousness after No. 3's healing, blinked weakly. His vision swam… and then sharpened just enough to see No. 3's twisted grin growing wider by the second, eyes glittering with manic hunger.
He also heard the captain's icy tone.
Next came the pain.
A sudden, stabbing agony erupted from deep inside his skull, as if knives were scraping his brain.
'These people…'
'They're actually doing it…!'
He tried to scream.
'No sound came out.'
His throat constricted in panic. He opened and closed his mouth like a drowning man, but the only air that passed through his mangled mouth was hot and wet with blood.
'My voice… it's gone…?'
Of course it was.
No. 3 had already severed the vocal cords—painfully precise, disgustingly efficient. No matter how the victim struggled, no one would hear a thing.
"Well then… I'll be stepping out for a bit," No. 3 hummed cheerfully. "Watch the body for me, won't you?"
His pupils unfocused. His consciousness peeled away, sliding out like mist—and invaded the bound Leaf ninja, sinking in through every crack.
"Shh… don't squirm. It'll be over soooon. I haven't used this jutsu in a while, so if I'm a little rough… be patient~"
'N-no… no…! I—I promised my daughter… I'd take her to the exam… pick her up… take her home…!'
Facing death, something primal surged in him.
Adrenaline flooded his body like wildfire. The pain vanished under its blaze.
He moved.
He moved.
Despite the kunai driven through his clavicle and pinned into the earth, he forced his battered muscles to contract. With a sickening rip, the blade tore through his flesh completely, and he staggered to his feet like a corpse puppeted by pure will.
"What—?!"
Even the captain stared in disbelief.
"With that injury, he shouldn't be able to move at all!"
'I can't die here… I can't…!'
His eyes were bloodshot, feverish. He opened his mouth—empty and tongueless—and swung his head toward the kneeling, defenseless body of No. 3.
Then he lunged.
'I promised them I'd come home. I promised… you bastard—DIEEE!!'
No ninjutsu.
No technique.
Just desperation.
His speed, fueled by the last burst of life, was terrifying—like he had used Body Flicker. In the blink of an eye he slammed No. 3 to the ground and opened his jaws to tear out his throat with a rabid, final-scream bite.
But miracles like these belonged only to protagonists.
And he was not one.
Before teeth could touch flesh, the captain moved. One instant he stood beside No. 2. The next—
CRACK!
A whiplike kick struck the Leaf ninja mid‑lunge, sending him crashing through the dirt, carving a long trench before he collapsed face‑down.
The captain caught No. 3's limp body before it hit the ground, gently laying him back.
"Phew… That was close," he murmured, studying No. 3 for injuries. Only after confirming he was unharmed did he exhale in relief.
Then he looked toward the dying Leaf ninja.
His voice softened.
"With potential like that… if it wasn't bad luck meeting us today, you'd have gone far. Certainly more than a mere Chūnin."
But the words never reached their intended ears.
The Leaf shinobi lay stretched in the furrow his body had carved, twitching weakly. The adrenaline faded, the pain returned, and the invasion of No. 3's jutsu tore at his consciousness. Inch by inch, his strength bled out with his blood.
'Damn… damn it… I was so close…'
His fingers curled into the dirt, clenching, trembling—then loosening as the strength seeped out of him.
'I'm sorry… it seems… I'm breaking my promise again…'
Tears slipped down his cheeks.
As darkness swallowed him, one final plea rose from the last spark of life left in him.
'Please… anyone… save me…'
'I don't want to die…'