Hatani was a handful.
Fumikawa knew this better than anyone. Having previously tried to intercept the boy—and nearly losing his life to that terrifying Wind Style: Powershot—the memory was etched into his mind.
However, in his view, the only reason he had been pushed to such a desperate brink was that he had just survived an encounter with that disgusting bug-user, Aburame Shikuro. He had lost his lower left leg in that fight, and his mobility had been severely compromised.
Now, having returned to Iwagakure and been fitted with a perfect prosthetic, that weakness was gone. To an elite Jonin like himself, the only thing truly worth fearing about Hatani was that blindingly fast, devastatingly powerful Wind Style technique.
After some deep soul-searching and a tactical analysis with Kyu—who had also witnessed the jutsu firsthand—Fumikawa believed he had found its Achilles' heel.
It was too concentrated.
Unlike most ninjutsu that boasted a massive area of effect, Hatani's technique sacrificed width for absolute piercing power. While its lethality was horrifying, the actual kill zone was no thicker than a finger.
If his leg hadn't been mangled before, Fumikawa wouldn't have needed Kyu to buy him time; he could have simply used the Body Flicker Technique to dodge the moment Hatani released the strike.
Furthermore, if he could close the distance before Hatani even had the chance to fire, he could snuff out the technique in its cradle. Though Fumikawa was primarily a ninjutsu specialist, he was fully confident that his Taijutsu was superior to a brat's.
After all, Hatani's previous combat style suggested he was purely a long-range caster.
"Water Style: Raging Waves!"
The battle began exactly according to Fumikawa's plan. After a rapid string of hand seals, he eschewed high-level, high-cost techniques. Instead, he opted for a simple C-rank jutsu to force Hatani into a defensive posture.
"Body Flicker Technique!"
Utilizing the brief opening, Fumikawa vanished. A split second later, he reappeared directly in front of Hatani, a reverse-gripped shuriken aimed straight for the boy's temple.
Hatani, who had been bracing himself for a relentless barrage of high-level Iwa ninjutsu and brainstorming ways to close the gap, was momentarily stunned by Fumikawa's "considerate" decision to come to him.
What kind of brain damage leads to a tactical decision this bad? Challenging me at my own game?
Unaware of the internal mockery, Fumikawa saw the momentary daze in Hatani's eyes and took it for shock. A cruel, triumphant sneer spread across his face.
"Die!"
As his mind conjured the bloody image of the shuriken piercing Hatani's skull, and his grin grew more grotesque, Hatani suddenly swayed. Like a blade of grass caught in a gale, he drifted with the wind. The shuriken missed by a hair's breadth.
Fumikawa's eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
The transition was so jarring that his face couldn't keep up. His brain screamed "shock," but his facial muscles were still locked in a "vicious sneer." The resulting expression was a mangled mess—his face looked like a wet mop that had been violently wrung out by a giant.
But while his face was a disaster, his shinobi instincts remained sharp. Years of combat experience allowed his muscles to react where his mind faltered.
With a flick of his wrist, the reverse-gripped shuriken spun in his palm. Re-clenching it, he stepped forward, thrusting the blade toward Hatani's throat.
Realizing that Hatani's Taijutsu wasn't nearly as weak as he'd assumed, Fumikawa's expression went cold, his eyes burning with murderous intent.
But then, the light in his eyes vanished, replaced once again by the look of someone seeing a ghost.
After swaying with the wind to dodge the first strike, Hatani's silhouette had blurred. A shadow seemed to "peel" away from his body like a second skin, manifesting into another Hatani that stepped in to block the path.
Even with his years of experience traversing the ninja world, Fumikawa had never seen anything like this.
A clone? A hand-seal-free clone?
If he hadn't been in a life-or-death struggle, he would have stopped to rub his eyes.
THUD!
With a dull impact, the clone intercepted the strike.
Fumikawa realized instantly: this wasn't a mere illusion meant to deceive. It was a physical entity capable of combat—a solid clone on par with the Shadow Clone Jutsu.
Has Konoha developed a version of the Shadow Clone that requires no seals?
Fumikawa refused to believe that a twelve-year-old Genin could be talented enough to master seal-less Shadow Clones on his own. He preferred to believe it was a secret technique developed by Konoha's elite Jonin and geniuses.
Hatani, however, wasn't about to offer an explanation, nor was he going to give the man time to think.
The moment Fumikawa closed the distance, Hatani had decided to put the Phantom Lancer's abilities to the test. He wanted to fully unleash his talent—and perhaps give himself a preview of the "joy" his future nephew, Naruto, would one day feel while jumping people with a crowd.
Under Fumikawa's transition from surprise to dread, and finally to pure terror, the two Hatani figures swaying in the wind blurred into four, then eight.
Eight identical figures completely surrounded the Iwa Jonin.
"Ninjas are so fragile."
Hatani glanced at the system notification: +339 Gold.
Looking down at Fumikawa—whose eyes were still bulging out of his head even in death—Hatani felt pretty good about himself. I'm a beast.
No wonder Tobirama Senju used to say that a battle between ninjas was just two eggs throwing rocks at each other.
As a "traditional" ninja, Hatani refused to acknowledge the later-era "Gundam" pilots as shinobi. Calling those guys ninjas? Please. Those are just a bunch of aliens.
After his brief internal monologue, Hatani thoroughly looted anything of value from Fumikawa's corpse. He turned his attention back to the System interface, falling into thought.
After that quick payday, he was sitting on nearly 1,200 Gold. The two items he needed for his "apprenticeship gift"—the Falcon Blade and the Blade of Alacrity—were now within reach.
Better yet, he could pass off these suddenly appearing items as "battlefield spoils" to deflect suspicion.
Now, the only question left: Should he try to apprentice under Maruboshi Kosuke, or go straight for the "White Fang," Hatake Sakumo?
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