Yuji’s scalpel sliced across the Agakure shinobi’s thigh, leaving what looked like a shallow cut. It should not have landed. At that range and with his reflexes, the man should have avoided it easily. Yet at the crucial mont, his leg had stiffened.
"That blade..." the Agakure shinobi muttered, narrowing his eyes.
The weapon in the boy’s hand was thin and almost delicate, easy to conceal but frighteningly sharp. Being injured twice by a genin humiliated him, and his expression darkened with anger.
Yuji did not continue pressing forward. Instead, he disengaged imdiately and leapt toward his injured teammate. In a few swift movents, he reached him and hoisted him onto his shoulder.
Only then did the Agakure shinobi sense that sothing was wrong. The numbness in his leg had not faded. It was spreading.
"Poison?"
His pupils contracted.
Sunagakure’s proficiency with toxins was well known. While Hanzo himself was a master of poison and his techniques in conjunction with his salamander had once forced even the Sannin into retreat, that was the strength of one individual.
The Hidden Sand was different. Their puppeteers routinely integrated toxins into weapons and chanisms. Their mastery lay not in overwhelming potency, but in practical application.
The shinobi steadied his breathing. As one of Hanzo’s trained soldiers, he had resistance to common toxins. As long as he created distance and delayed, the effects would subside.
"Stop wasting ti," Yuji said calmly without turning around.
"You are already finished."
The words irritated him.
"Arrogant brat."
He stepped forward, intending to pursue, but the ground seed to tilt beneath him. A wave of dizziness struck. His limbs grew weak far faster than expected.
This was not poison.
He looked down at his thigh. The wound appeared shallow, yet blood was flowing at an alarming rate. The scalpel had sliced precisely across a major vessel. The bleeding had been controlled, clean, and continuous. He had not realized how much blood he had lost.
His knees buckled.
"I actually lost to a genin..."
The thought surfaced briefly before darkness swallowed his vision. He collapsed onto the canyon floor.
Yuji did not look back.
Carrying his teammate, he bounded up the canyon wall and reached a high stone platform overlooking the battlefield. From there, he had both distance and visibility.
He set the injured boy down carefully. The damage was severe. One eye was destroyed. Shrapnel had torn through muscle. Blood loss was significant.
"I’m sorry, Yuji," the boy whispered weakly. "Don’t worry about . You’re a dical ninja. You should retreat and report."
"It’s fine," Yuji replied while working quickly to stabilize the bleeding. "There are not many of them. Senior Endo is still holding out."
His tone was calm, but his eyes were already scanning the battlefield below.
The situation was grim.
Three Agakure shinobi remained.
Endo was the only one still fighting.
The other genin and the wounded chunin were already dead.
From the ambush until now, less than five minutes had passed. Small-scale shinobi battles were never prolonged. Life and death were decided in monts.
Logically, as a dical ninja, he should withdraw. Preserving himself and transmitting intelligence ca first.
But there was no formation left to protect him. There was no fallback.
"You rest here," Yuji said after completing a quick field treatnt.
Then he rose and turned back toward the battlefield.
If he and Endo coordinated, they still had a chance.
Even if he was only a genin.
As he descended, the remaining Agakure shinobi noticed him.
"Is Aoki dead?" one of them asked coldly.
"To lose to a single brat. Pathetic."
Their killing intent sharpened.
When Endo saw Yuji rushing back toward the battlefield, he shouted in alarm.
"What are you doing? Get back!"
’I observed long enough. The data is sufficient.’
Yuji did not slow down.
He moved straight toward the three remaining Agakure shinobi. There was no fear in his expression. His gaze swept across them quickly before settling on one target.
As a transmigrator, Yuji possessed an unusual advantage. He was deeply familiar with this world. He knew the common ninjutsu of each village, their combat styles, and the typical strengths and weaknesses of different types of shinobi.
It was not perfect knowledge, nor complete, but it ford a frawork in his mind. A reference model he could draw upon.
That alone was useful.
But it was not his greatest advantage.
The true foundation of his confidence ca from the knowledge he had obtained through the system, particularly the dical insights inherited from Kuroo. It had given him an exceptionally precise understanding of human anatomy.
He had trained himself deliberately since childhood, using his own body as a reference. Because of his dical proficiency, he could push his physical limits, recover efficiently, and continue training at a pace others could not sustain. To an extent, he had been in a state of extre training for years.
As a doctor, he also observed differently. The way an opponent shifted their weight, the tension in their shoulders, the rhythm of their breathing. From these details, he could estimate their range of motion, predict the arc of an attack, and even detect subtle physical weaknesses.
Combining that observation with his enhanced conditioning and his ntal database of combat patterns, Yuji had shaped a fighting style suited to himself.
He called it Data Taijutsu.
At his current stage, it was enough.
The toxins he used were also of his own preparation.
He closed the distance, ready to engage.
Then everything changed.
Without warning, several puppets dropped from above and landed beside the three Agakure shinobi.
The puppet on the left expelled a narrow spike. It pierced cleanly through one man’s skull before he could even turn his head.
The puppet on the right held a rotating blade that cut another shinobi in half at the waist with terrifying precision.
Both were humanoid constructs.
The third puppet resembled a crawling lizard. As it skittered forward, panels on its back snapped open, releasing a dense spray of poisoned senbon. The final Agakure shinobi barely had ti to raise his arms before he was riddled through.
The entire exchange lasted only seconds.
Yuji slowed to a stop.
The desperate battle that had pushed them to the brink ended almost instantly.
A figure descended from the canyon wall in the distance.
He landed lightly.
A youthful face erged from the darkness, calm and emotionless. Chakra threads shimred faintly from his fingertips as the puppets withdrew and returned to his side.
Sasori.
Yuji slid the scalpel back into his pouch.
There was no surprise on his face.
The Agakure shinobi they had faced were not insignificant, but in the grand scale of the war they were expendable pieces. Against most genin, they were overwhelming. Against a true prodigy, they were little more than obstacles.
Eight years old sounded young.
In this world, it was not.
So children had already stepped far beyond ordinary limits.
In front of such talent, years of effort from others amounted only to a starting line.
Sasori walked closer, retrieving his puppets with smooth, practiced motions. He did not look at Endo.
His gaze settled on Yuji.
"I thought that with you here, nothing would go wrong."
His voice was flat, almost indifferent.
"You overestimate ," Yuji replied quietly.
Yuji sighed.
Sasori stared at him without speaking. His gaze seed intent on seeing right through Yuji.
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