Playing Tricks
"Run away, why don't you run away?"
Four Sunagakure ninja encircled Uchiha Gen, their chūnin leader, a tall man with a deep scar running across his forehead, smirking viciously.
Gen Uchiha's lips curled into a cryptic smile as he flicked his wrist, igniting two explosive tags.
The Sunagakure chūnin's eyes narrowed. Something was off. His instincts screamed danger. "Fall back! Now!" he barked, leaping away.
Boom!
Twin detonations erupted, sending a scorching shockwave across the battlefield. The force sent three Sunagakure genin flying, their bodies colliding with the ground in agonized gasps. Though not dead, the severe concussive force left them spitting blood.
Whoosh!
Three shuriken sliced through the air from the canopy above, hurtling toward the chūnin's head, spine, and thigh.
With seasoned reflexes, the Sunagakure chūnin twisted mid-air, kunai flashing as he deflected the incoming projectiles. Sparks flickered in the night.
That instant of focus on the shuriken was all Gen needed. He sprang from the treetops, his blade slashing down.
The Sunagakure chūnin barely had time to raise his kunai in defense. Clang! Metal met metal, sending vibrations down their arms.
Gen didn't pause. His left hand shot forward, aiming straight for his opponent's throat.
The chūnin reacted instantly, blocking with his forearm, but then—his body froze.
"W-what?" He staggered, his expression twisted in disbelief.
The three shuriken he'd deflected had arced back mid-flight, embedding themselves in his back. The Uchiha's infamous mastery of trajectory control was something even elite jōnin feared. Blood seeped from the wounds, soaking his flak jacket.
Not all shinobi could afford armor, and those who did often avoided it for the sake of mobility. He had paid the price.
Thud.
Gen capitalized on the moment, driving his foot into the chūnin's gut. The enemy stumbled back, collapsing.
Then, with a cold gleam in his eyes, Gen's Sharingan spun into existence—two tomoe revolving in the crimson irises. With a flick of his wrist, he deflected the scattering kunai with effortless precision.
The downed chūnin groaned, but his body refused to obey. His spine had been severed—he was finished.
Seeing their leader fall and then locking eyes with the terrifying scarlet Sharingan, the remaining genin trembled.
A two-tomoe Uchiha?
Every ninja in the world knew that the most talented chūnin could rival tokubetsu jōnin in skill.
They were just genin. They had no chance.
Before they could process their impending doom, Gen activated an ability foreign to this world—the Soul-Soul Fruit.
A chilling sensation gripped them. Ethereal wisps of blue energy seeped from their skulls, their very life force wrenched away.
Their bodies gave out before their minds could comprehend what was happening. Three lifeless thuds echoed through the clearing.
"You… w-what did you do?" The paralyzed chūnin's voice trembled, his remaining strength devoted to sheer horror.
"You don't need to know."
Gen approached him, kneeling down as his hand passed through the man's chest. The chūnin gasped as his soul was pulled free. The last thing he saw was Gen's cold gaze before a blade pierced the base of his skull, ensuring his demise.
Silence.
Retrieving his bloody shuriken, Gen swiftly departed.
Only when he reached a secluded grove did he allow himself a moment to steady his breath. Killing had never been an issue for him—his excitement earlier had overridden any discomfort. But now, in the eerie quiet of the battlefield, the weight of death settled in.
Still, Gen was pragmatic. He methodically cleaned his weapons, consumed a military ration pill, and focused on chakra restoration. The Uchiha Clan's soldier pills weren't far behind the Akimichi Clan's in potency, and their formula supplied nearly 40% of Konoha's battlefield rations.
Chakra control was key. A single Shadow Clone Technique could halve one's reserves, and though chakra naturally regenerated, time was a luxury on the battlefield.
Gen's strong spiritual energy made precise chakra distribution easier. That precision was crucial in mastering high-level jutsu.
After thirty minutes of focused recovery, Gen resumed his hunt.
It wasn't long before he spotted another Suna-nin, standing alone in the forest.
This one was different. His armor gleamed under the moonlight, a large scroll was strapped to his back, and his calm demeanor exuded confidence.
A puppet master.
Gen didn't rush in. Caution was key against unknown techniques. Even a tokubetsu jōnin wasn't unbeatable, but a puppeteer's true danger lay in their unpredictability.
Instead, he tested the waters.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent a shuriken spiraling toward his opponent.
Before it even reached its target, the Suna-nin flicked his fingers.
Clang!
A kunai shot out, intercepting the projectile mid-air.
Gen's eyes narrowed. He had sensing abilities.
The puppet master capitalized on Gen's surprise, flinging three shuriken toward his hiding spot.
Gen evaded, countering with a swift backhand throw of his own. The blades embedded themselves into tree trunks with sharp, crisp impacts.
The Suna-nin wasn't impressed. His hands blurred through hand seals—but suddenly, his expression twisted in shock.
The shuriken he had just dodged… were returning.
Sharingan trajectory manipulation.
Forced to abandon his jutsu, the puppeteer twisted away, barely blocking the incoming projectiles with his kunai.
"Fire Style: Phoenix Fire Jutsu!"
Small fireballs shot forth in rapid succession, each one controlled with pinpoint accuracy. The Suna-nin reacted instantly, bringing his hands together.
Poof!
A smokescreen erupted. From the mist, a wolf-shaped puppet lunged forward, senbon launching from its mouth. The tiny needles disrupted the flames, extinguishing them midair.
Gen sidestepped effortlessly, his Sharingan reading every minute movement.
"The Uchiha Clan..." The Suna-nin grimaced upon seeing the infamous red eyes. Puppeteers hated fighting Uchiha. Their visual prowess could anticipate puppet attacks, rendering many mechanisms useless.
Gen tilted his head, flicking his fingers. A small white orb appeared, streaking toward the puppet master.
The Suna-nin reacted on instinct. A concealed kunai launched from the wolf puppet's mouth, striking the orb mid-flight.
Nothing happened.
"...What?"
Before he could process it, the wolf puppet turned on him.
Without warning, its mouth opened wide—several kunai shot at him.
Too close. Too fast.
The Suna-nin gasped as the very puppet he controlled betrayed him. The kunai tore through his armor, embedding deep in his chest.
"H-How…?" Blood dribbled from his lips as he stared at the impossible. His own creation had turned against him.
The truth was simple.
Gen smirked. "Playing with puppets in front of me? Foolish."
Using his Soul-Soul ability, he had claimed the puppet as his own.
The wolf puppet now wagged its tail, rubbing against Gen's leg like a loyal pet.
"You belong to me now," Gen said coolly.
Before his victim could even scream, Gen ripped his soul from his body.
The battlefield fell silent once more.
As Gen sealed the wolf puppet into a scroll, a figure appeared atop a nearby tree.
Blond hair, deep blue eyes, and a confident but kind expression.
"I made it just in time…"
The Yellow Flash of Konoha had arrived.
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This version maintains your word count while incorporating Naruto-accurate elements: canon techniques, clan specialties, and battlefield strategy. Let me know if you want further refinements!