Right then, two options appeared in Ebara's mind.
[Option 1: Go with them. Reward: 200 chakra points!]
[Option 2: Refuse outright. Reward: +5 to all base attributes!]
No brainer—Option 2.
Not only was the reward better, but going with them meant letting Danzo butcher him.
Ebara wasn't that stupid.
"I choose two!" he thought.
[Choice successful! All base attributes +5!]
Channeling his chakra slowly, Ebara eyed them warily. "To take me? Need the Third's orders first."
"Since you won't follow Lord Danzo's command," the cat-masked Anbu said coldly, "we'll take you by force."
"Try it," Ebara said with a smile.
"Your words, not ours," the sheep-masked Anbu replied.
In two breaths, he was in front of Ebara.
"So fast!" Ebara thought, even prepared.
The sheep-masked Anbu's fist slammed toward Ebara's abdomen.
The power was solid, whistling through the air.
Ebara didn't dare slack, raising his left arm to block.
Bang!
The punch hit his forearm.
Ebara's arm went numb, like struck by a boulder.
Seeing a genin block his hit, the sheep-masked Anbu's anger flared—at himself and Ebara.
How dare you block me?
He opened his hand, grabbing Ebara's arm.
To control the arm, then the whole body.
He gripped easily, but as he pulled—
Ebara's arm was like bedrock, immovable.
A smug smile crossed Ebara's face. He flexed.
The arm, moments ago unbudging, shot like lightning at the Anbu's chest.
The speed startled him.
He dodged frantically, but too late.
Ebara's arm struck his chest.
A burning pain erupted.
Ebara pressed the advantage.
His left fists whirled like a storm, pummeling the Anbu.
The sheep-masked Anbu couldn't counter, only defending.
But his experience far outmatched Ebara's.
He avoided vitals, letting blows land harmlessly.
He kept distance, ready to escape.
Finally, he found an opening.
After taking a shoulder hit, he backflipped away, breaking free.
Ebara didn't pursue—the cat-masked Anbu loomed nearby.
Though he hadn't moved, Ebara couldn't ignore him.
"He's trickier than the files said," the cat-masked Anbu said, arms crossed.
His body language showed no concern.
"Yeah, but I've found his weakness," the sheep-masked Anbu said, hands flying through seals.
"Earth Style: Quagmire!"
He slammed his palms down.
The soft ground turned to mud, sucking at Ebara's feet.
Ebara's speed saved him, leaping away before sinking.
He landed on a nearby wall.
As he did, the cat-masked Anbu moved, always within striking range.
Ebara noted it, filing it away.
Most of his focus stayed on the sheep-masked Anbu.
"If I'm right, he's a chunin," Ebara thought. "Stronger, more experienced than me. But my physical stats, boosted by attribute points, surpass him. Taking him down's possible, but tough."
His gaze dropped.
"Looks like I'll use the Mahaya trick on him."
"Quick, efficient, saves chakra for the other guy."
Decided, Ebara moved.
"Wind Style: Vacuum Sphere!"
Air bullets shot toward the Anbu.
"Earth Style: Mud Wall!"
A sturdy earth wall rose, blocking him.
Thud thud thud…
Many bullets hit the wall, but a few pierced through, striking the Anbu.
The impacts felt like kunai stabs, agonizing.
"Earth Style: Rock Collapse!"
The wall Ebara stood on crumbled.
He dodged the debris, emerging from the dust.
Shadows rushed at him.
"Earth Style: Rock Spears!"
Ebara suppressed his unease.
Hands sealed.
"Wind Style: Great Vacuum Sphere!"
A gale roared from his mouth.
The rock spears scattered instantly.
As they flew, Ebara did too.
He grabbed one, thrusting at the Anbu like splitting a mountain.
The Anbu met it fearlessly, fist against rock.
Just before collision, Ebara twisted his wrist.
Chakra surged into the spear.
Bang!
It exploded in his hand.
Dust filled the air, grit stinging the Anbu's eyes through his mask.
He couldn't see Ebara.
But he stayed calm.
Fighting blind? Trained since five.
He listened intently.
A twitch in his ear—left fist flew out.
It met Ebara's punch.
Both staggered back.
Ebara vanished again.
So did one of the Anbu's rock spears.
This time, Ebara appeared in front.
The spear smashed down on the Anbu's head.
The Anbu heard it, dodging aside.
The strike missed.
His side kick swept at Ebara.
Ebara seemed slow, taking the hit and flying back.
But the Anbu felt no joy—his heart sank.
What he kicked wasn't flesh—a log.
"Substitution Jutsu!"
"Correct!" Ebara's voice rang from behind.
The Anbu's soul nearly fled, but too late.
Ebara's solemn voice whispered, "Secret Technique—Thousand Years of Death!"
The next second, a sharp, sour tear ripped through the Anbu's rear.
Like a rocket, he clutched the spear and shot skyward.
A shameful howl echoed—not quite wolf, not quite dog.
"Owoo—!"