Hand signs blurred as the battle erupted in the narrow confines of the alleyway.
Naoto struck first, utilizing a fluid combat style that alternated between long-range thrusts and short-range stabs with his hardened spears—a strategy perfectly suited for street fighting.
However, Orochimaru did not play by the rules of conventional "ninja honor." He unhinged his jaw, regurgitating the legendary Kusanagi Sword.
Against its divine edge, a re C-rank hardening jutsu was like parchnt before a razor.
Within a few exchanges, Naoto's spears were severed, forcing him to leap back and recalibrate.
Orochimaru scanned his surroundings, his gold eyes darting to every roof and shadow. He was perplexed.
Nearly thirty seconds had passed since the engagent began, yet no other ninjas had appeared. More unsettling was that persistent, ghostly gaze—he could feel it watching, yet even with his heightened senses, he couldn't pinpoint its origin.
"How fascinating," Orochimaru hissed, gripping his sword. "Does your village have no other shinobi? Why do they not co to your aid?"
Naoto understood the bait. A man of Orochimaru's caliber didn't fear a swarm of Chunin; to him, numbers were irrelevant.
If anything, Naoto had kept the others away to prevent pointless slaughter. Takigakure's growth was fragile, and he refused to let his comrades beco collateral damage.
"I am enough," Naoto declared.
He bit his thumb, blood spraying into a cluster of tiny, writhing tendrils. His hands wove signs at a blinding speed.
The tips of the threads petrified into jagged, dart-like points before snapping off, trailing long, nearly invisible filants of transparent silk.
While the Symbiotic Destruction Insects weren't natural silk-producers, the tendons they grew were exceptionally resilient. Modified by the Earth Grudge Fear, they beca a unique weapon.
"Secret Technique: Black Thread Stratagem!"
With a single seal, dozens of the hardened heads fired, weaving a dense, razor-sharp web in the air that constricted with enough force to cleave stone.
Orochimaru stood still, a smirk playing on his lips. His body was shredded into segnts, only to lt into a puddle of mud—a Leaping Mud Clone.
Naoto sensed a blade behind him. He spun, his fingertips flashing through two signs as he unleashed a Wind Release: Vacuum Wave that slamd into the incoming sword.
He retreated instantly, his hand signs increasing in complexity and speed: Dragon-Hare-Tiger-Rat-Dragon-Hare...
Three seconds later, a titanic pressure of wind descended from above, the sheer force grinding the cobblestone street into dust.
Orochimaru's movents were pinned. Simultaneously, four elders in ancient robes appeared at the cardinal points, their chakra signatures flaring.
The air grew heavy and stagnant. Sealing Jutsu.
Though the technique wasn't sophisticated, the combined effort of four veteran Jonin was enough to paralyze a master for a heartbeat.
"Hehe... I thought this was a one-on-one," Orochimaru chuckled dryly.
"Only a fool believes a thief's terms! Die, intruder!" the Great Elder shouted.
"Fire Release: Pressure Damage!"
As the flas roared forth, fueled by the vacuum of the wind, Orochimaru bit his thumb. "Summoning: Rashomon!"
The colossal, demonic gate erupted from the earth, absorbing the brunt of the inferno. As it vanished, Orochimaru stood free, surveying the five n surrounding him. He realized he had underestimated the village's hidden teeth.
"I've slighted Takigakure, it seems," he said, turning his gaze toward the empty air. "And since you, the master of this house, refuse to show yourself, I shall take my leave."
"Summoning: Giant Snake!"
With a puff of white smoke, a massive serpent appeared. Orochimaru vaulted onto its head, the beast smashing through the periter defenses. "Farewell," he called back to Naoto. "We shall et again."
"Don't let him escape!"
Enraged by the destruction of their hard-earned streets, Naoto and the four elders gave chase, pursuing the beast into the forest. But three miles out, the trap snapped shut.
Orochimaru, ostensibly fleeing, suddenly leapt from the snake's head, spinning in mid-air. Grey vipers erupted from his sleeves like living arrows—Hidden Shadow Many Snake Hands.
Elder Sheshui, leading the charge, was caught off guard. Just as the fangs were about to sink into his skull, Naoto grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back.
Naoto blew a sharp wind blade from his mouth, severing the snake heads, but the wind could not stop the Kusanagi Sword hidden within the mass of serpents.
The blade pierced Naoto's chest, entering near his left collarbone and exiting through his back.
Naoto grabbed the blade with his bare hands, his back erupting in a forest of hardened spears that lunged at the Sannin.
"Naïve!" Orochimaru laughed, ripping the sword free and slicing the spears to ribbons before kicking Naoto dozens of ters away.
Naoto hit the ground, blood gushing from the wound. Orochimaru stood atop his serpent, looking down with a mocking smile.
"Your strength is comndable, but your experience is shallow. A true shinobi never lets himself be led into an ambush."
The pain cleared Naoto's head. He rembered Shisui's order: If he wants to leave, let him. You cannot hold him.
But Orochimaru wasn't looking at him anymore. He was shouting at the empty forest.
"Are you still going to hide?"
Naoto struggled to stand, but his wound refused to close. The blood flowed freely, uninhibited by his usual regenerative abilities.
"Don't waste your energy," Orochimaru said. "There is a special toxin on that blade. Your healing won't work so easily today."
He perford one more set of signs. "Summoning: Myriad Snake Formation."
Tens of thousands of venomous snakes flooded the forest floor. Orochimaru's voice turned cold. "If you don't co out now, these precious ninjas you've spent so much effort cultivating are going to die right here."
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