Senmei Asahi stood silently, the wind stirring his raven-black hair as he surveyed the battlefield. Dust and blood mixed in the air like a grim fog, and tension thickened with every heartbeat. Across the scorched field, dozens of Iwagakure shinobi glared in his direction with murderous intent—but none dared take a step forward.
They had good reason to hesitate.
Every Iwa shinobi who had rushed forward with intent to strike him down now lay broken on the ground, lifeless, their final moments stolen in an instant by the unstoppable force of Namikaze Minato.
The battlefield had transformed into a death zone. The earth was littered with Flying Thunder God Kunai, glinting ominously in the sun, as if warning all who dared enter. Minato, the 'Yellow Flash' of Konoha, had turned this ground into a graveyard—one strike, one flash, and an enemy perished. It was no longer a fight; it was a massacre.
Those trapped within the deadly radius could only watch helplessly as their comrades were cut down one after another. Fear began to spread like wildfire through the Iwa ranks. The next to die might be any of them.
Eventually, the last of the Iwa shinobi fell. With a final blur of golden light and the dull thud of another body hitting the dirt, Namikaze Minato halted his assault. His chest rose and fell more noticeably now—his breathing heavier. Even someone like him, with chakra reserves beyond ordinary comprehension, could not maintain that level of intensity without cost.
Senmei Asahi, standing just beside him, narrowed his eyes slightly as he observed. He could sense the fatigue creeping into Minato's posture. 'That last sequence… must have drained him considerably.' Asahi thought.
"There are only two of them?"
"Kill them both!"
The surrounding Iwa forces roared, their bloodlust reignited. Yet, despite their bravado, their bodies betrayed them. Every shinobi instinctively hesitated after their first step forward, as if their own survival instincts were screaming: 'Stop!'
Minato's massacre had done more than reduce their numbers—it had shattered their morale. Hundreds of their comrades had perished in mere moments. Among them were seasoned Jōnin, veterans of multiple campaigns. Not even they could endure the speed and precision of Konoha's 'Yellow Flash'.
At last, the Iwa commander's voice rang out. A burly man in cracked armor stepped forward from the reeling mass of soldiers. His eyes locked onto Minato first, then drifted toward Asahi, narrowing with veiled recognition.
"So it's you two," the commander sneered, lips curling in contempt. "The 'Yellow Flash' of Konoha, Namikaze Minato… and the youngest Jōnin in your village, Senmei Asahi. I've heard of you both. But I didn't expect to meet you here… on our soil."
Asahi raised his brow and motioned to the bloody field, laughter in his voice. "I'm guessing you didn't expect to lose so many of your own, either."
"Hmph. If we bring your corpses back to Iwagakure, their sacrifice will be more than worth it!"
The commander slammed his hands together in a quick seal.
"Earth-style ∙ Earthquake Core!"
*Boom!*
The ground rumbled violently. Without warning, the soil beneath Minato and Asahi gave way, crumbling into a 20-meter-deep pit. The two Konoha shinobi dropped swiftly, the earth swallowing them like a trap prepared in advance.
"Now! Release everything! Shuriken, kunai—bury them!"
At the commander's roar, the surrounding Iwa shinobi obeyed in unison. Countless projectiles were hurled into the pit—metal clanged and clattered in a chaotic symphony as the shinobi aimed to finish the pair in a storm of steel.
But then—whoosh!
In a blink, both Asahi and Minato disappeared from the pit, reappearing safely beyond the barrage in a puff of space-time displacement.
Asahi chuckled, watching the futile rain of weapons continue to pelt the empty pit. "The Flying Thunder God Technique really is something, isn't it?"
"Asahi!" Minato's voice sharpened, bringing Asahi's attention back. "Don't get careless. Our mission is to delay their advance, not obliterate them."
Asahi nodded. "Understood." He reached into his flak jacket and retrieved a sleek, engraved kunai. Handing it over, he added, "Here, this one's mine. I also carry one of yours. That way, we can swap positions using Flying Thunder God and catch them off-guard."
Minato's eyes lit up. "Good thinking."
Meanwhile, at the pit's edge, the Iwa commander raised a hand. "Stop. Something's wrong."
He cautiously approached the edge and peered down—only to find the pit empty save for a bed of ninja tools.
"…Where are they?" he growled.
"They vanished again!"
"It's that space-time technique!" one shinobi muttered in awe.
"Wait!" another shouted. "That kid appeared the same way before, didn't he? Could… could it be that Konoha's teaching space-time jutsu to children now?!"
"No way!"
"But he really did just appear—like Namikaze Minato!"
The Iwa commander ground his teeth, clearly agitated by the murmurs of panic. This wasn't just about numbers anymore. It was about perception—about fear.
Minato had long been a terror to Iwagakure, but now there was this boy—Senmei Asahi. At first glance, he looked more like a medic than a warrior. And yet… the way he moved, the sheer ease with which he navigated the chaos, spoke of something more.
The commander remembered the reports: Asahi, just twelve, promoted to Jōnin. Trained by none other than Tsunade of the Sannin. Said to have inherited her monstrous strength and medical prowess. And now, even space-time ninjutsu?
Konoha was producing monsters.
"Tch… damn it…" the commander cursed, forming another set of seals. The ground rumbled once more as he reversed the previous jutsu, raising the earth and leveling the battlefield.
"Recover the tools. Be cautious. Those two might be hiding nearby."
"Yes, sir!"
Not far away, hidden within the foliage, Asahi peered through the branches. His fingers clenched into fists.
"They still haven't caught on to the secret behind the Flying Thunder God." he whispered.
Minato nodded. "I'll go first. You follow when the moment's right."
*Whoosh!*
A streak of gold flashed into the heart of the enemy formation.
Screams erupted.
Iwa shinobi dropped like dominoes, unable to defend, react, or even comprehend the force cleaving through their ranks.
"It's him! He's back—!"
"Pull out the kunai—quickly!"
Too late.
The Iwa commander turned just in time to see Minato appear behind him in a yellow blur. A kunai glinted. A spray of red arced through the air.
His body crumpled.
In that moment of chaos, Asahi emerged from hiding. He moved like a shadow—no hesitation, no wasted movement. He sprinted behind an unsuspecting Iwa shinobi and delivered a devastating punch.
"Tsunade-ryū: Ougonken!" (Tsunade Style: Monster Strength Fist!)
*BOOM!*
The sound was like an explosion. The poor shinobi flew like a ragdoll, colliding with others and carving a deep trench through the soil.
"There! It's that brat again!"
"Kill him!"
But when they turned, Asahi stood tall and unafraid. A smirk tugged at his lips, his eyes cold and calculating.
"Are you ready… to die?"
With another bellow, he launched himself forward, right fist cocked back.
*THOOM!*
*****
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