BOOM!
A massive explosion erupted behind him, fire and smoke engulfing everything—including Kuwan. But Shikamaru didn't so much as glance back. Without hesitation, he sprinted straight toward the pre-arranged ambush site.
Chunks of dirt were blasted into the air, and the grassy field around the blast was scorched and torn apart. As the fire and smoke began to dissipate, both Shikamaru's shadow clone—used as the bait—and Kuwan's figure had vanished without a trace.
Moments later, the ground not far from the explosion suddenly shifted. Grass and earth flew upward as a tall figure emerged from beneath the soil. Kuwan, unharmed, rose from a shallow tunnel and brushed the dirt from his clothes.
Though his outfit was dusted with dirt and moisture, there were no burn marks or damage. Shikamaru's trap—including the explosive tag—had failed to injure him.
"Hmph. Clever little brat," Kuwan muttered as he flicked the last of the dirt off his demon-faced mask. His voice was muffled by the metal, but there was amusement—and perhaps a hint of respect—in his tone. "A Leaf genin, huh…"
His eyes narrowed as he glanced in the direction Shikamaru and Karin had fled.
"They're regrouping? No... that was a decoy." Kuwan's senses sharpened. As a jōnin, he wasn't about to fall prey to a few genin. Still, the setup was impressive.
He jumped up onto a nearby tree branch, using the momentum to accelerate, quickly chasing after them—alert for signs of ambush.
The blast echoed through the forest with a low, dull boom.
"You heard that?" Kiba's ears twitched. Hidden in the shadows, he snapped to attention. His sharp gaze fixed on the direction of the sound. "That was the signal."
Shino, crouched nearby, simply grunted in acknowledgment. His eyes narrowed behind his shades, shifting focus in the same direction.
Hinata, Choji, and Ino also perked up, senses sharpening. They tensed, ready to move the moment the target stepped into the kill zone. No hesitation, no time wasted. One chance to take him out.
Then—faint footsteps. Uneven. Rushed. And heavy, gasping breaths.
Shino frowned. Whoever was approaching was exhausted. Sloppy. It wasn't Shikamaru—and certainly not their target.
Sure enough, moments later, a pale, sweat-soaked hand pushed through the bushes.
Karin stumbled out, wheezing and disoriented. Her face was flushed from exhaustion.
Seconds behind her—a dark figure burst from the underbrush.
Midair, the figure curled up, arms hugging bent legs, before landing in a controlled roll. Using that momentum, he sprang forward and caught Karin around the waist—dragging her down just as a series of kunai flew past.
THWIP! THWIP! THWIP! THWIP!
The kunai embedded into a tree just ahead—right where Karin had been standing.
She gasped, eyes wide with shock. Her gaze flicked to the tree, then to Shikamaru, who was already pulling himself up.
He had just saved her life.
The sprint hadn't been far by ninja standards, but she'd pushed herself to the limit. With danger behind her, her body had relaxed, her guard had dropped—and she hadn't even sensed the incoming attack.
If Shikamaru hadn't knocked her down in time...
She shuddered.
Ino and Choji, watching from cover, exchanged glances.
That was fast.
Too fast.
They knew Shikamaru better than anyone—knew his strengths and his limits. And if even he couldn't shake this enemy during a planned diversion, then this wasn't a genin. Maybe not even a chūnin.
But there was no time to hesitate.
"Ino, now!" Choji said, bracing her limp body as she performed her jutsu.
"Mind Transfer Jutsu!" Ino called softly, forming the seal and aiming at the hawk tied nearby.
Her chakra surged forward—and in the next instant, the hawk ceased its frantic flapping.
Ino's spirit now controlled it.
Choji gently lowered her unconscious body to the ground and placed it in a pre-designated hiding spot.
He then untied the hawk, whispering, "Be careful, Ino."
The hawk, now under Ino's control, turned its head and nodded slightly. It gave a soft cry, indicating readiness.
Two small pouches sat nearby—one filled with smoke bombs, the other with explosive tags.
Choji carefully strapped the smoke bombs to the hawk's back and allowed it to grip the explosive tag pouch in its beak.
With a beat of its wings, the hawk lifted off. It dove, then banked upward, rising sharply into the sky.
Choji watched it vanish into the canopy before turning back, forming hand signs. His focus shifted to Shikamaru and Karin, tracking their every movement and waiting for the signal.
Shikamaru, still crouched with one knee on the ground, pushed up.
He didn't rise fully. Instead, he twisted sideways to minimize his exposed surface, knees bent to keep a low stance. One hand rested on the hilt of his short blade—Shadowfang—while the other stretched forward, fingers ready, as if warding off an invisible enemy.
This posture wasn't random.
It was the culmination of weeks of training under Asuma. A stance that balanced offense and defense. Muscles tense, joints aligned, he could explode into motion at a moment's notice—drawing his blade in a spinning slash powered by both hip rotation and spinal torque.
It was incredibly energy-consuming.
Normally, Shikamaru wouldn't use it unless he was certain of immediate combat—but Kuwan was already closing in. He didn't need a sensor to feel it.
The real fight was about to begin.