'Well placed and timed, but I could turn this to my advantage...'
Its Yin corrosion surged up to swallow him.
Yet, Kimimaro didn't resist outright.
Instead, he let his body slacken, feigning paralysis, letting the waves of corrosive thought scrape just enough for an illusion of control.
Inside, his Inner Bastion stirred, Yin Release calming tides pushing back just enough to steady his mind. Not freedom, but clarity. Enough.
Junsaku seized the 'chance', his eyes narrowing.
Tatsuma was losing ground to that girl, and this was his moment to finish the boy quickly.
He closed in fast, spectral bolts spinning for the kill.
That was when Kimimaro's lips curled into a sharp grin.
The whip tightened, looping around Junsaku in an instant.
He tried to leap free, but too late; the bone length fractured in sequence, mini joints snapping open like a string of barbed spears.
Needles exploded outward, piercing into him, slowing his movements, dragging him down.
To this extent, it was all Kimimaro needed.
And then his main weapon came for the piercing kill.
Kimimaro's forearm weapon drove through his torso, twisting, ripping him nearly in half.
Junsaku gasped, blood filling his mouth.
His thoughts spiraled.
"A… Root… vice commander… ended by a child not even in puberty…?"
He couldn't believe it.
What gnawed at him in his final moment was the failure of his art.
His Soul-Binding trap had been perfect.
It should have eaten the boy's spirit from the inside out with such a direct hit with no problem.
But it hadn't.
The Inner Bastion had slipped his grip, calming away the storm meant to shatter his mind.
Junsaku's masterpiece, his soul-crafted arrow, had failed.
The last thing he saw before darkness closed in was Kimimaro's cold grin, the merciless twist of that bone spear drilling through him, and, more bewildering than the pain, the sudden flare of strange scrolls unfurling around his body.
Inked with bloody inverted triangle symbols, they snapped open in midair, sealing marks crawling like living chains, as if the boy wasn't just killing him, but claiming him, dragging his very essence somewhere else while he still hung on barely alive for a few more moments.
Kimimaro then felt Saya's chakra settle, the signal that she had finished her kill.
Reika's giant ice dragon still loomed in the cavern, sustained the entire time to keep the two Root operatives separated and to smother the bulk of the poison mist.
Victory had come quickly, only a few minutes, but Kimimaro knew it wasn't sheer strength that decided it.
It was the observation groundwork laid beforehand, the counters prepared for each ability, the precise match of who faced whom.
Their strange, unorthodox techniques had tipped the balance, catching the enemy off guard, and tactics, not luck, had carried the day.
Sometimes, it just goes completely well like this.
Kimimaro stepped over the stone dust, his whip and concentrated lance retracting smoothly back into bone and flesh.
His eyes lingered on Saya, watching the way she wiped blood from her scythe with almost casual precision.
Not reckless, not frenzied. Calculated.
He nodded once. "Good. You didn't waste and lose yourself rushing in, and layered it nicely and logically with your newfound, never-before-seen abilities. That was a very clean work."
Saya tilted her head, pale hair falling across one red eye, lips curling faintly. "Clean? You make it sound like I didn't have fun."
"You had fun," Kimimaro corrected, voice calm, almost amused.
"But you didn't let it own you. That's the difference between a marauder and a hunter."
Her smirk sharpened, pride clear even if she tried to mask it. She didn't deny it.
Together, they sealed the two bodies, their Root masks vanishing into scrolls with a final hiss of chakra.
Kimimaro dusted off his hands as Reika came up beside them as well, cloak brushing the cavern wall.
Her golden eyes scanned the melted ice and scattered corpses, then returned to him with a quiet certainty.
She didn't need to say anything; the controlled devastation spoke for itself.
Still, Kimimaro spoke first. "Your wall and the dragon, exact timing. Perfect support."
Reika inclined her head slightly, no smile, but her shoulders eased. "It worked."
That was all. She didn't bask, didn't boast. Kimimaro liked her more for it.
However, from further back, Emi finally appeared, too, Byakugan still active, pale eyes faintly glowing in the gloom.
She hadn't fought, but she had watched every step.
She slipped closer with a half-smile, brushing stray dust off her sleeve.
"Well, that was a show," she said lightly, her voice carrying that familiar cheek.
"I almost felt bad sitting back there while you three hogged all the fun."
Kimimaro gave her a flat look, though his tone carried faint humor.
"If you call being poisoned and mind-broken fun, I'll let you switch next time."
Emi laughed, tilting her head. "Tempting, but no thanks. I prefer watching you break such monsters, not being the bait. I never knew the Aburame clan hid something like that away."
But Emi wasn't afraid of the possible consequences; in fact, a strange thrill ran through her.
The idea that the trio had just taken down some of Konoha's highest elites, from some secret organization, made her almost gloat inside.
Saya, meanwhile, snorted, spinning her scythe once before resting it on her shoulder.
"Coward."
Emi shot back immediately, grin sharp. "Alive coward. I know my current limits the best."
The tension bled out of the chamber with that exchange.
Meanwhile, Akane Uchiha had also watched the entire clash unfold, as she burned a little bit of that permanent ice wall from a safe distance.
The white-haired boy with bone drills and whips, the blood-eyed girl who fought like a sadistic predator, the ice-wielder whose dragons froze poison itself, and the Hyūga girl who had been watching calmly from the shadows.
They weren't normal. They weren't good.
They were monsters in human skin.
But they weren't like the masked men either.
The Root operatives had been nothing but tools, unreachable, merciless, pure executioners.
These four at least… spoke to each other like that.
Her teeth clenched.
If there was even a chance, she couldn't waste it.
"Wait!" Akane shouted, her voice cracking through the cavern.
Her Sharingan locked onto Kimimaro's pale figure as if he were the leader, because clearly, he was.
"Please… save him!"
She pushed down the panic rising in her throat, forcing her voice to sound clear.
"My father—if you save him, I'll do anything! Anything you ask!"