The girl's breathing grew heavier as her frustration boiled over. Her hands moved rapidly, forming another sequence of hand seals as chakra flared around her. She poured every ounce of her fury into the technique, ignoring the strain on her body. The whip of water coiled and twisted above her like a snake, its edges glistening with sharp, deadly intent.
"You think you can keep dodging?!" she snarled, her voice trembling with anger. "Let's see you run from this!"
Swish!
Swish!
With a sharp motion, she snapped her arm forward, sending the whip hurtling toward Amatsu. The crack of the water cutting through the air was deafening, its speed almost too fast to see. It struck the ground where Amatsu had stood a moment ago, tearing through the dirt and leaving a deep, jagged scar in the wet soil.
Amatsu moved fluidly, his body low and quick as he darted to the side. He didn't look at the whip or the destruction it caused. His dark eyes were locked on the girl, watching her closely, analyzing her every move. She was strong, but strength alone was never enough. Each strike of the whip was wild, desperate—driven more by emotion than precision.
"Stop running!" the girl screamed, her voice cracking. She lashed out again, the whip carving through the air in a wide arc. It slammed into the trunk of a tree, splitting it clean in half. Splinters flew in all directions, but Amatsu had already moved, his body weaving through the chaos like a shadow.
He didn't retaliate. Not yet. His grip on the jagged shard of wood in his hand tightened, but he held back. There was no need to rush. The girl was expending too much energy, her movements growing slower and less controlled with every attack. She was burning herself out, and Amatsu was content to let her.
From the edge of the clearing, Higanbana watched, her crimson eyes wide with fear. Her small hands trembled as she clutched at her chest, her breaths shallow and uneven. She wasn't a fighter—she didn't know how to help. All she could do was watch as Amatsu evaded the girl's relentless attacks, his movements precise and methodical.
But even Higanbana could see it: the girl's strikes were growing weaker. Her body trembled with the effort of maintaining the jutsu, her chakra flickering like a candle in the wind. And yet, her anger refused to let her stop.
"I'll kill you!" the girl screamed, her voice raw and ragged. She lashed out again, the whip striking toward Amatsu with all the force she could muster. This time, it was slower, the energy behind it faltering. Amatsu sidestepped with ease, his expression cold and detached.
"She's tiring," Amatsu thought, his cold gaze dissecting her every move. His buffs worked silently, unseen, yet absolute. The +63% Reaction Speed Buff revealed every faltering motion—the faint tremor in her wrist, the sluggish delay in her strikes. What once was sharp and decisive had dulled, her body betraying her exhaustion.
Her breathing was ragged, uneven. In contrast, Amatsu's +25% Stamina Recovery Buff kept his breath steady, measured, as if the battle had barely begun. Each passing second widened the gulf between them. She fought against her own limits, while he moved as if untouched by time.
Her chakra whip wavered, its edges no longer precise. Amatsu didn't need to understand chakra to see the cracks forming, his +20% Stability Buff anchoring him even as the air grew heavy with her faltering energy. She was unraveling, her strength bleeding into the ground with every failed strike.
"She's already lost," he thought, his body a coiled spring, the +35% Reflex Speed Buff itching for the moment to strike. Power alone was meaningless. Endurance was king. And she, in her desperation, had already surrendered to the inevitable.
Amatsu's grip tightened on the jagged shard in his hand. "Survival is patience," he whispered coldly. "And I am built for survival..."
The girl snarled, her frustration boiling over with every missed strike. "Why won't you fight back?!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "What, you scared or somethin'?!"
Amatsu stayed silent, his expression calm, indifferent, as if her words didn't exist. Conversations were meaningless in the face of death. He took a slow step forward, his movements steady, deliberate, like the ticking of a clock counting down to her end. The jagged shard of wood in his hand glinted faintly, its edge crude yet deadly.
This moment wasn't chance—it was inevitability. Every dodge, every step, every breath had led to this. Her fury, wild and unfocused, had played into his hands from the start. She thought herself the hunter, but she had been nothing more than a beast walking into the jaws of a trap.
Her rage blinded her to the truth: she wasn't losing. She had already lost.
Before the girl could strike again, a faint red mist swept through the clearing, soft-elegant and delicate, like a sigh from the earth itself. The water whip faltered, its path veering off and slamming harmlessly into a tree. The girl staggered, her focus breaking for the briefest moment.
Amatsu's eyes shifted. Higanbana stood there, trembling, her small hands raised uncertainly. The red mist coiled around her like a fragile veil, faint petals of the higanbana flower drifting in the air before dissolving into nothingness. Her crimson eyes shimmered, filled with fear and hesitation, but also a quiet. She hadn't meant to summon it—hadn't even known she could. Yet, in her hopes, something had answered her plea.
The moment was fleeting, but it was enough.
The girl turned toward Higanbana, her face contorted with rage. "You—"
She didn't get to finish.
Amatsu moved in that instant, his body a blur as he closed the distance between them. His jagged shard of wood glinted faintly as he lunged forward, his movements swift and deliberate. The girl barely had time to react. She turned back toward him, her hands raising defensively, but she was too slow.
The shard slashed across her throat with brutal precision. The wood-blade tore through flesh and muscle, blood spraying into the air in a crimson arc. The girl's eyes widened in shock, her hands instinctively clutching at her neck as she staggered backward. Her body uncontrol-able , as her body fought against the inevitable.
She collapsed to her knees, choking as blood poured from her throat, pooling at her feet. Her hands clawed at the wound, desperate, futile, as wet, gurgling noises escaped her lips. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, locked onto Amatsu, searching for mercy that would never come. She wavered, her strength draining like sand through clenched fingers, before finally pitching forward. Her body hit the ground with a sickening thud, lifeless, the dirt beneath her stained dark with blood.
Amatsu straightened, his breathing steady, his expression cold and unreadable. He didn't spare the girl a second glance. She was already dead, her chakra fading into nothingness. To him, she was nothing more than an obstacle—a stepping stone on his path to survival.
The girl's body lay twisted in the dirt, blood spreading beneath her in dark, uneven rivulets. The forest fell silent, the chaos of battle swallowed by an oppressive stillness. Only the faint rustling of leaves broke the quiet, a hollow reminder of life continuing without pause.
Amatsu stood over her, the jagged shard of wood in his hand dripping red. His gaze was cold, indifferent, as if the corpse at his feet was nothing more than a discarded tool. To him, her death held no weight, no meaning—just another step forward, like crushing a bug beneath his heel.
Without hesitation, he crouched down beside the corpse, his movements deliberate and efficient. He began to search her body, his hands moving with mechanical precision. Her death wasn't the end of the encounter—it was only the beginning. In this world, survival required stripping the fallen of anything useful, and Amatsu wasn't one to waste an opportunity.
From her belt, he retrieved two kunai, their edges sharp and polished. Without hesitation, he slipped them into the folds of his black kimono, their weight vanishing against his body. Next, he found a small pouch at her side. Inside, ten shuriken gleamed faintly, compact and deadly. His lips curled into a faint smirk. Tools like these were the line between survival and death.
Without ceremony, he slid the pouch into his kimono, the fabric swallowing it in silence. Each item disappeared as if it had never been, leaving no trace but the cold calculation in his eyes.
From the bag slung over her shoulder, he pulled out a worn scroll. Its surface was rough, edges frayed with time, yet the words etched across the top were bold and unmistakable: "Fundamentals of Chakra Control." His gaze lingered, cold and calculating, as the meaning became clear.
He unrolled it slightly, his dark eyes scanning the intricate diagrams and precise instructions. This was no ordinary item—it was a key to power, a method to control and shape chakra with precision. Such knowledge was priceless, far more valuable than any weapon or coin.
Without hesitation, he rolled the scroll back up and slid it into his black kimono, the fabric swallowing it whole. It no longer belonged to her. Like her life, it was now his to claim.
"Useful," he muttered. His voice was calm, detached, as though he were discussing something mundane. He finished his search, standing and stepping back from the body without so much as a glance at her lifeless face.
Behind him, Higanbana stood frozen, her crimson eyes wide with horror. She hadn't moved since the fight ended, her small hands clenched at her sides. Her gaze was locked on the girl's bloodied corpse, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. She had known this world was cruel—she had seen it with her own eyes—but this... this was something else entirely.
"Amatsu... you took her things..." Higanbana's voice was soft, barely more than a breath, trembling like a delicate petal caught in the breeze. Her crimson eyes stayed lowered, unable to meet his gaze, her hands clutching the hem of her sleeve. "She... she's dead, and yet... you didn't even hesitate." Her words wavered, heavy with sadness and quiet confusion, as if struggling to understand the cold finality of his actions.
Her hands clasped together, the tremor in her voice betraying the kindness in her heart. "Is this really the way to survive?" The words hung in the air, soft yet full of sorrow, a quiet plea for understanding in a world so harsh.
Amatsu turned to her, his expression unreadable. "Hesitation gets you killed," he said flatly. "She's dead. There's no point in wasting what she left behind."
Higanbana flinched at his words, her crimson eyes flickering with sadness . "She didn't have to die," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You... you could have spared her."
Amatsu's gaze lingered on her, his eyes like a quiet storm—unyielding and distant. "Weakness is the cradle of death," he murmured, his voice as hollow as the wind's sigh. "Had I shown mercy, she would have claimed my life"
There was no warmth in his words, only the truth of survival, harsh and unmoving like the cold steel of a blade.
Higanbana shook her head, her fists tightening at her sides. She wanted to argue, but deep down, she knew he was right. This forest wasn't a place for kindness or mercy. It was a battlefield, and on a battlefield, only the strong survived. But knowing that didn't make it any easier to accept.
Amatsu turned away from her, his focus already shifting to the next challenge. The fight had been instructive. He had learned something valuable—not just about his enemy, but about himself. He didn't understand chakra, not fully, but he had seen its power. The girl's techniques, her movements, the way she had shaped the chakra into a element—it had all been a lesson. And Amatsu had been paying attention.
He glanced at the scroll tucked into his bag, his mind already racing with possibilities. He didn't know how long it would take, but he would learn. He would unlock the secrets of chakra, master its power, and use it to crush anyone who stood in his way. Survival wasn't enough. He needed strength—absolute strength.
"Let's go," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He didn't look back at Higanbana, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "There's no point in staying here."
Her crimson eyes lingering on the girl's lifeless body. The blood had soaked into the dirt, staining the ground a deep, dark red. She felt a lump rise in her throat, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to move. She didn't want to see more of this brutality—but she had no choice.
Was this what survival truly demanded? She had seen his calculated approach to everything he did, his decision-making sharp and precise. It wasn't cruelty for the sake of cruelty—it was necessary. And as hard as it was to accept, she began to understand. People weren't always born into their actions; they were shaped by their environment, by the choices they were forced to make.
Though it troubled her, Higanbana found herself slowly trusting him. She didn't have all the answers, but she realized that perhaps this path—the one he walked—wasn't so much about being good or evil. It was about survival, about finding a way through a world that didn't care for weakness.
The forest closed in around them as they walked, the shadows swallowing their figures. The distant screams of other orphans echoed faintly through the trees, a grim reminder of the chaos still raging around them. The girl's death wasn't unique—it was just one of many. And it wouldn't be the last.
Amatsu didn't look back, his mind already focused on the next step. Each fight, each death, brought him closer to his goal. He didn't care about the morality of his actions or the cost of his survival. All that mattered was strength. And in this forest, strength was the only thing that mattered.
---
Higanbana followed quietly, her heart a swirl of emotions, yet her trust in Amatsu remained unwavering. She had seen the cruelty, the brutality in his actions, but with every calculated move he made, she found a strange sense of peace. His calmness, his cold precision—it was different from the chaos and unpredictability she had known. Deep down, she believed there was a reason behind everything he did.
Though she didn't fully understand his dark nature, she knew that good and evil were not so easily defined. People, in their essence, were shaped by their circumstances. And Amatsu, despite his harshness, was simply someone who had learned to survive by any means necessary.
She trusted him. Perhaps it was because, despite his indifference, he made sense in a world that was so often senseless. Even with the fear gnawing at her heart, she felt safer with him. He was powerful, intelligent, and decisive—traits that made her believe in his vision, whatever it might be.
Though her heart was soft, her belief in Amatsu gave her the courage to follow him, to stand by his side as he navigated this cruel world.
---
The girl's blood seeped into the earth, dark and unyielding, swallowed by the cold embrace of the soil.
Amatsu walking beneath the vast sky, his eyes tracing the endless expanse of trees swaying gently in the breeze. The forest whispered softly around him, but his voice cut through, quiet and cold, like a blade slipping through the dark.
"Fairness... justice... empty words, like leaves scattered in the wind. This world has no room for such illusions. Life and death are nothing but fleeting shadows, swallowed by the endless night. But I... I will not vanish. I will endure. If the heavens won't remember me, and the earth won't make space for me, then I'll carve my name into the silence itself, even if it must bleed to hold me."