The tree Shikamaru had pointed out was thick, though not nearly as massive as the towering trees surrounding it. Choji examined it carefully before nodding in confirmation—he could do it.
"Hinata, you'll be our second wave," Shikamaru continued, his tone serious. "If the target evades Choji and Kiba, you'll engage him with close-range taijutsu. Shino, while he's distracted by Hinata, I need you to send your bugs in for a stealth attack."
"Ino," Shikamaru lowered his voice as he turned to her. She still seemed slightly upset—clearly frustrated she hadn't been able to talk him out of going. "I need you to use your Mind Transfer Jutsu to control a bird. Fly it above the battlefield and stay mobile. You'll carry smoke bombs and explosive tags. If Hinata and Shino both fail, wait for my signal to drop the smoke bomb. If I signal again, drop every explosive tag you have—right on top of him."
His tone left no room for debate. Ino clenched her fists but nodded, pushing her emotions down.
"Everyone, hand your explosive tags to Ino," Shikamaru ordered, addressing the rest of the team.
Although Choji and Hinata held onto one or two for their roles, Kiba and Shino reluctantly handed theirs over. Both of them felt Shikamaru was overreacting a bit. Sure, they weren't cocky enough to think they were the best in the exam, but this level of caution against a supposed genin felt excessive.
Still, their trust in Shikamaru's tactical brilliance—proven more than once—kept them from arguing. They handed over their tags.
In total, they pooled together twelve explosive tags. Expensive and dangerous, they were never used lightly. Because Shikamaru would be drawing the enemy in himself, he kept one for his own use—just in case.
Kuwan, the disguised Sound jōnin, crouched low as he traced Karin's path through the forest.
He examined the soft impressions left in the soil, spreading his hands to match the spacing. With one finger, he gently pushed at the dirt. A single footprint could reveal a lot—speed, direction, hesitation.
"Hmph." Kuwan exhaled slowly. Tracking wasn't difficult for someone of his skill level, but it still took time—especially since she'd fled a fair distance already.
Then—rustle.
A nearly imperceptible sound broke through the silence. Kuwan froze, muscles tense, all senses alert. Despite his earlier relaxed posture, he had never dropped his guard.
He listened, his ears twitching slightly as he focused.
A slow grin formed under his demon mask. With a sudden burst of speed, he leapt into the trees, landing soundlessly thanks to perfect chakra control.
In the treetops, he paused just long enough to lock onto the source, then moved swiftly through the canopy.
It didn't take long. Among the branches, the flash of bright red hair caught his attention—subtlety was never Karin's strength. She was creeping through the undergrowth, clearly trying to avoid detection.
Too late.
The moment Karin felt Kuwan's chakra signature, she froze. Her head jerked upward, and her gaze met his—mocking, predatory, waiting.
Karin bolted like a startled rabbit.
"Shff!"
Kuwan moved instantly, leaping after her from the tree.
Branches shuddered. Leaves fluttered down as his pursuit narrowed. Karin turned sharply, using a large tree to block his view and gain distance.
But Kuwan was too fast. Pivoting midair, he planted one foot on a nearby trunk and launched himself off of it again, accelerating.
"Whish!"
He reached for her—just as a flurry of shuriken flew from the brush to his side.
A surprise attack. Right at the moment he was vulnerable, mid-jump.
"Shuriken?" Kuwan smirked. "You'll need better than that."
With a twist of his body, he dodged most of them and caught the rest out of the air, one by one.
Hidden in the bushes, Shikamaru's eyes narrowed.
As expected of a jōnin. The man's reflexes were terrifying. Against someone like this, shuriken were nothing but distractions.
"Whish!"
Kuwan landed softly, crouching for just a heartbeat before flicking both hands down, hurling the shuriken back—straight at where Shikamaru was hiding.
Shikamaru leapt out of the grass, narrowly dodging the return volley. He landed nearby and immediately formed hand signs. His shadow twisted unnaturally beneath him, extending forward like a serpent slithering from the darkness.
It surged toward Kuwan.
Whatever this shadow technique was, Kuwan didn't intend to find out firsthand. He jumped back, but the shadow followed him relentlessly.
"Damn," Kuwan muttered.
He leapt again, this time into the trees. Bounding from trunk to trunk, he tried to break the shadow's pursuit. Mid-jump, he spun and hurled a set of kunai at Shikamaru, trying to force him to break his jutsu.
It worked.
Shikamaru was still in the middle of casting. His mobility was limited. The kunai forced him to release the jutsu and retreat.
It wasn't a successful ambush, but it had bought Karin time—she was already long gone.
"Trying to run?" Kuwan growled. "You're not getting away."
With his full attention now on Shikamaru, he moved in again—fast.
But Shikamaru was ready. As he moved, he flipped a small purple orb into his palm. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it at the ground.
Poof!
Purple smoke exploded outward, swallowing Shikamaru in a thick haze.
"Shff!"
Just as the smoke rose, three identical silhouettes burst from the cloud and charged straight at Kuwan.
They looked identical to Shikamaru. One rushed head-on. The other two split off, zigzagging through the trees in an attempt to flank.
It was a coordinated assault. Perfect timing.
The side clones struck first—one punching high, the other sweeping low. Kuwan raised an arm to block—only for both clones to pass through him harmlessly.
Afterimages?! Kuwan cursed internally.
The sunlight-filtered forest had masked the deception. The clones had only been visual tricks.
The real threat came from the middle. The third Shikamaru darted in, knee flying toward Kuwan's stomach, one hand striking toward his throat while the other guarded his chest.
A ruthless, efficient combination—straight from shinobi training. The strikes were textbook: no wasted motion, all intended to incapacitate or kill.
"Too slow."
Kuwan twisted, raising a leg to block the knee strike. Thud—solid impact.
So this one was real.
He intercepted the throat strike with one hand, and the following hook with the other. With both wrists caught, Kuwan now had the "real" Shikamaru restrained.
Then—he jumped.
WHAM!
Both knees rocketed up into Shikamaru's chest with crushing force. The impact echoed dully through the trees.
But Kuwan's eyes widened.
His pupils shrank.
There, stuck to the clone's back, was a scarlet slip of paper—glowing faintly, hissing as the fuse burned down.
An explosive tag.
Seconds from detonation.
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