Rin's chest heaved as she mustered every shred of courage she could find amidst the lingering terror. Her small voice trembled, barely rising above the whisper of the evening breeze.
"Who… who are you, mister?"
The colossal figure before her shifted slightly, the moonlight glinting off his gleaming armor, casting fractured golden shards across the shadowed trees. His eyes—two burning orbs of molten light—locked onto hers, unblinking and serene. Then, his voice broke the silence, deep and resonant like the tolling of an ancient bell, vibrating through the very earth beneath their feet.
"I am General Radahn-" he declared, each word laden with an undeniable weight and authority, reverberating through the quiet forest like a celestial decree.
The air itself seemed to hold its breath, the lingering scent of blood and fear momentarily forgotten in the presence of this godlike figure.
Rin's wide eyes reflected not only the brilliance of his armor but also the vast gulf between the fragile girl before him and the immortal force that had just spoken her name.
Rin's eyes suddenly jolted open, her thoughts snapping back to the harsh reality she had tried so hard to escape. Panic surged through her veins like wildfire.
Rin's breath hitched as the memory of Kakashi's desperate fight flashed vividly in her mind—the way he struggled against the Mist ANBU, injured but refusing to fall. Her heart pounded in her chest, pounding louder than the distant thunder of the jungle. Panic surged through her, sharp and raw, breaking the fragile calm around her.
"Mister Radahn…" Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper at first, but then broke as her tears spilled freely, cascading down her cheeks like a relentless waterfall.
"Please… you have to save my friend Kakashi. He—he's hurt… badly hurt. The Shinobis… they're going to kill him. I-I-" Her small hands shook as she clenched them tightly, trying to steady herself, but the weight of her fear and desperation made her body tremble uncontrollably.
The forest, which moments ago had seemed so oppressive and dark, felt almost sacred in that moment, as if the very trees and shadows around them were holding their breath, waiting. The heavy silence pressed in on her, broken only by the soft sound of her sobs and the distant rustling of leaves in the dying light.
Radahn's burning golden eyes softened as he looked down at her, the immense power radiating from his form seeming to dim just enough to offer comfort. His voice, when he finally spoke, was deep and calm like the earth itself.
"Need not to worry , Child."
"I will find him. I will protect him." The simple words were a promise heavier than any sword, filling Rin's heart with a flicker of hope amidst the overwhelming fear.
Yet even as she felt a fragile thread of relief, Rin knew deep down that the path ahead was steep and fraught with danger. But for now, with Radahn's presence shielding her, that spark of hope was enough to steady her trembling soul.
Rin wiped her streaming tears with the back of her hand, her trembling finger extending shakily toward the dense thicket where Kakashi was locked in battle. Her voice, though still fragile, held a spark of urgency as she whispered,
"That's the way… Kakashi is over there."
She turned back quickly, eyes searching for Radahn to thank him, to ask more, to find the strength she so desperately needed.
But the golden figure was gone—vanished into the shadows as if he had never been there.
The faintest chill swept through the air where he had stood, leaving Rin alone amidst the silence, her heart pounding wildly with both hope and uncertainty.
---------------------------------------
The battlefield was eerily silent except for the ragged breaths and distant, agonized screams echoing through the dense forest. Kakashi stood at the center of the carnage, his body battered and bloodied. Deep gashes lined his torso and arms, his once pristine ninja attire torn and soaked with sweat and dirt. One eye was swollen shut, and his head throbbed with each heartbeat. Despite the pain, his gaze remained sharp, calculating every movement of his enemies with relentless focus.
Around him lay three fallen comrades—lifeless and broken, their weapons scattered at their sides. The weight of their deaths hung heavily in the air, a grim reminder of how close this fight was to turning fatal. His breathing was uneven, a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline, but his resolve remained unbroken.
The captain, observing Kakashi's deteriorating state, addressed the remaining forces with urgency.
"Neko-" he ordered, his voice rough from battle,
"Find the source of those screams. Confirm their origin and rally the others. Secure that girl and regroup with us. We'll finish off this brat here and pull back—it's getting too late, and we can't afford to lose more."
With a silent nod, Neko disappeared into the shadows, leaving Kakashi to brace himself for the oncoming assault as the twilight deepened and the forest seemed to close in around them.
Neko nodded, silent and swift, vanishing into the thick underbrush toward the source of the screams with expert precision. Leaves barely stirred in his wake.
But after that—nothing. Not a sound. Not even the rustle of movement.
He never returned.
Back on the battlefield, the crimson sky now bled into a deeper hue as the sun dipped further beyond the treetops. Kakashi struggled to stay upright, knees wobbling beneath him, blood trickling down his chin. The Mist ANBU Captain loomed over him, a jagged kunai in hand, raised high for the final blow.
"This is where it ends, Konoha dog-" he hissed.
But then—it happened.
A strange ripple trembled through the air, thick and suffocating, like the forest itself was holding its breath. A deep purple aura shimmered into view, enveloping the captain's arm and kunai. It pulsed, like a living thing, distorting the air and letting out a low hum, like the distant roar of some ancient beast.
"What the—?!" the captain stammered, his eyes widening.
The kunai in his hand began vibrating, almost convulsing. His fingers clenched against his will, the weapon shaking violently in his grasp. Before he could drop it, his own hand twisted—and plunged the kunai into the soft flesh of his throat.
"Gghh—gkkh!!"
Blood sprayed as he stabbed himself again. And again. The sickening, wet sound of metal puncturing flesh echoed like the beat of a nightmare. Each strike was more savage, more unrelenting, as though some unseen force was puppeteering his body into mutilation.
Kakashi, wide-eyed and frozen in place, could only watch in mute horror. Even in all his years of shinobi violence, this was something else—something beyond nature.
The remaining Mist ANBU stared, pale as ghosts, their masks unable to hide the terror flooding their posture. One dropped his weapon. Another fell back onto the ground, scrambling to crawl away.
"Wh-What the hell is that?!"
"No… No jutsu does that…I-I didn't felt any chakra!"
Fear gripped them like a vice, paralyzing their legs. Their captain now lay in a heap, face down in his own blood, his hand still clutching the bloodied kunai. His eyes, frozen open, stared into nothing. The very air was vibrating with dread—some malignant, unseen force had arrived, and it was watching.
They turned to flee, hearts pounding in primal terror—but they never got the chance.
CRACK.
The first ANBU's body was flattened instantly, a grotesque splat echoing across the forest floor. Blood and bone sprayed in every direction as he was crushed under an invisible, unstoppable weight. His mask shattered like porcelain, his scream never escaping his throat.
WHAM.
The second tried to leap into the trees—but his body was slammed mid-air, folded in half with a crunch as he collided against a thick trunk, leaving a crater of meat and broken armor embedded in the bark.
SQUELCH.
The third simply vanished into the ground, pressed flat into a pulp, as though a giant had stomped the very earth beneath him. What remained of him was unrecognizable—a mess of twisted limbs and pulverized remains.
It all happened in the span of a few seconds.
Kakashi's blood-soaked form shuddered as he slowly raised his head. His instincts screamed and his Sharingan, dulled by exhaustion and blood loss, still registered the movement—something was behind him.
A shadow… massive, towering, looming.
He didn't hesitate.
With a last surge of adrenaline, Kakashi twisted on his heel, arm sweeping outward in a desperate attempt to strike first—
Until—
A hand caught his wrist.
Firm.
Unshakable.
And impossibly gentle.