When Maki and her team arrived at the meeting point, someone was already waiting.
The location was a secluded training ground in Konoha Forest—no direct path to the ANBU base.
There was only one reason to meet here: the ANBU team entrance exam.
The man wore an ANBU vest and a slightly silly-looking dog mask. His sleeveless arms revealed simple red tattoos, and his striking white hair was tied into a ponytail.
Maki and Naori exchanged a glance—this felt oddly familiar.
"Ah, it's the senior who taught me Thousand Years of Death," Naori said, a touch of surprise in her voice.
Maki gave her a sidelong look, then focused on the ANBU ninja.
The tall, lean young man scratched his head awkwardly. "Uh… I'm your leader. Please take care of me."
"Why not start with a proper introduction?" Maki said.
"I can't give my real name. You can call me White Fang," he replied, still scratching his head. He glanced at Naori, a bit shy but serious. "I invented Thousand Years of Death, you know. Pretty great, right?"
"Wow, such a reliable big brother," Hitomi muttered, arms crossed. Her expression made it clear she wasn't impressed with their assigned leader.
"Hitomi," Maki warned softly.
Hitomi quickly switched to a sweet smile. "Just kidding, big brother."
White Fang sighed. "First impressions aren't great."
"Mutual feeling," Hitomi shot back.
"You all seem… troublesome," he said plainly. "I hope your skills match. Otherwise, you'll be back to being regular shinobi."
"Sorry to disappoint, big brother—we're all chūnin," Hitomi said.
"Uh… my bad."
"Didn't ANBU give you our profiles?" Maki asked.
"They did," White Fang admitted. "I didn't read them. Honestly, I doubt you'll make ANBU—at least not under me."
"Scary, senior," Naori said with a polite smile.
"Wow, such a troublesome leader," Hitomi added with a sneer. "I bet you'll be cute when you cry."
Ignoring the jabs, White Fang looked straight at Maki. "We'll skip the formalities. The rules are simple: defeat me, and you stay. Lose, and you leave—alive or dead, doesn't matter. Understand?"
"Simple enough," Maki said evenly.
"Good. I like your attitude," White Fang replied.
The summer wind rustled the grass and leaves.
"Then… let's begin."
The four squared off.
White Fang drew a short, blunt ninja blade—perfect for parrying and clashing.
Hitomi unsheathed her ornate chakra sword, about 1.2 meters long, holding it lazily before pointing the tip toward White Fang.
Even from thirty meters away, White Fang felt a prickling sensation between his brows. His instincts told him she was dangerous.
"You're coming at me head-on? Experience will win," he warned.
Naori, dressed in a black Uchiha uniform, drew a long sword and left a short blade at her hip. She raised her left hand into a deliberate one-handed seal.
A one-handed seal? That was rare—legendary, even. But she was slow…
White Fang's attention shifted to Maki. Her pure white attire was unchanged except for her taller, slimmer frame. The double-edged blade in her hand fit her grip perfectly.
He waited, giving them the courtesy of the first move.
"I've been underestimated," Hitomi muttered.
"Then let's fix that," Naori said with a faint smile.
"Formation Three," Maki ordered.
"Understood."
Naori finished her seal—and her body dissolved into shimmering bubbles. A cloud of butterflies rose in her place.
White Fang's eyes narrowed. An unbreakable genjutsu! This was worse than he'd expected.
"Nisunai!" Hitomi's shout cut through the forest. A burst of dazzling blue light flared as her blade's chakra edge shot forward like lightning, aiming straight for his brow.
White Fang twisted away just in time—only to hear a sharp clap.
A sudden gale roared through the clearing, and purple smoke billowed in all directions.
The Insect Secret Technique: Spider Dance.
Her bugs… weren't they lethally poisonous? And her teammates were still inside the cloud!
She dared?!
White Fang cursed under his breath. Faulty intel…
In seconds, the battlefield was swallowed in violet haze.
The battlefield had become a complete death zone.
White Fang staggered back again and again, unwilling to step into the poison.
The purple mist loomed between them, an impassable wall—neither side could advance nor retreat.
For a while, the standoff held.
"If this keeps up, you'll lose," White Fang called out.
"Senior, that's not what you said before," Maki's voice drifted from within the fog.
"The final interpretation belongs to me," White Fang replied.
"As expected of the man who invented the Thousand Years of Death," Hitomi sneered.
The moment she spoke, a crescent-shaped flash sliced across the ground.
A razor-thin arc of chakra, compressed to a deadly edge.
It wasn't as blindingly fast as her earlier strikes, but still swift—and flying blades like these were nothing new to White Fang.
He sidestepped as usual, but this time—
A sudden chill touched the side of his neck, perfectly placed in the path of his dodge.
Every hair on his body stood on end.
That missing Uchiha!
His instincts, honed by a thousand battles, made him snap his short blade up to block—
—but there was no impact. Only empty air. A feint.
And in that instant, the real trap sprung.
A blade thrust from nowhere—aimed squarely at his backside.
Cold sweat broke out instantly.
Before he could recover, the ground beneath him split open.
A monstrous purple blade erupted from below, stopping just under his crotch.
And still, the assault wasn't over.
From the mist ahead, a figure burst forth—her sword already swinging.
A long, gleaming blue blade lashed out from meters away, aimed straight for his skull.
Three coordinated strikes.
Every escape cut off.
Jump, and you'd die even faster.
At the very edge of disaster, White Fang shouted:
"I surrender!"
Sure enough—one against three was too much.
He glanced at the weapons poised precisely at his vitals and scratched his head.
"…Do we have some kind of grudge?"
Always the same—aiming for the butt or the crotch. Who could stand that?
"Senior, don't be ridiculous. I thought we agreed life or death didn't matter," Maki's voice came from underground, her sword retreating back into the earth.
"Well, I just wanted to see it in action," White Fang admitted sheepishly.
"Now you've seen it," Hitomi snorted.
"They're all impressive, right?"
"Senior is really cute," Naori stepped from the void, slowly sheathing her sword with a smile.
"It felt a little too easy. You're not that weak, are you?" she teased, twirling her blade and scattering fine motes of chakra into the air.
Hitomi, unlike Naori, sheathed her weapon in a swift, no-nonsense motion.
"It was… interesting," she admitted honestly.
Maki rose from the ground not far away.
"A boring trial," she said flatly.
The purple mist collapsed in a gust of wind, flowing back into her body.
White Fang scratched his head again.
It was clear—ordinary means wouldn't draw out their full strength.
All three of them were dangerous, and if the fight dragged on, it would spiral out of control.
This wasn't a game. In a real battle, one mistake meant death.
And their techniques… each one was deadlier than the last.
White Fang lowered his blade.
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