"What the—how can he move that fast?!"
Cold sweat ran down Kameda's forehead as he gripped his kunai, his eyes darting nervously. Raizen—vanishing and reappearing with the precision of the Flying Thunder God technique—materialized suddenly to Kameda's right, a smug grin on his face.
"Not very strong, are you?" Raizen teased, circling him like a predator.
Kameda's rage ignited. "Hateful brat!" He slammed his hands together. "Water Style: Water Flow Whip!"
A whip of water surged from his hands, slicing toward Raizen with lethal speed. Raizen didn't even blink. He sprinted across the training field, weaving between strikes, letting the whip's power dissipate as he pressed his palms to the earth.
"Lightning Style—Go!"
Crackling arcs of electricity shot forward from Raizen's palms, zipping along the ground like a live wire toward Kameda's feet. The current jolted through Kameda's body, forcing him into a smokescreen as he vanished, leaving only a wooden stake where he had stood.
Stab!
Before Kameda could react, Raizen appeared to his side. Several explosive charms had been tied to kunai, sparking like fireworks on the sharp edges. Smoke and fire swirled around him as he lunged.
The roar of the clash echoed across the training ground, smoke blotting out half of it. Kameda's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is this technique?!"
A kunai sliced through the haze toward him, but Raizen was faster. A shadow flickered before Kameda, and then—thwack!—a fist smashed into his nose. Blood spurted, and the impact sent him sprawling. Raizen followed immediately, hammering Kameda to the ground with precise, unrelenting strikes.
Kameda rolled backward, ignoring the pain streaming from his nose, but Raizen was already closing in, kunai spinning in hand. Another punch hit Kameda's stomach. He doubled over, shrieking, only to feel a crushing strike on the back of his head.
Boom!
The world tilted. Kameda's legs buckled, his vision blurred, and dizziness tore through his mind. He couldn't stand, couldn't think clearly—Raizen's strike had induced a short-term concussive state.
"Don't bother struggling," Raizen muttered, surveying his handiwork. "Your brain's been rattled. No chance of standing anytime soon."
Kameda, still twitching with the remnants of his strength, groaned. Raizen calmly summoned the Flying Thunder God Kumo, slamming it to the ground near Kameda's neck. The weight was final—Kameda's resistance evaporated. He lay there, defeated, feeling the sting of humiliation and pain.
Onlookers fell silent. The palace ninjas had witnessed the sheer dominance of Raizen's tactical skill. Slowly, Kameda retrieved a scroll from his arm, placing it on the ground as an offering, and left the training field in quiet despair.
Raizen picked up the scroll, glancing toward Kameda's retreating back. His voice carried across the field, sharp and unapologetic:
"Don't blame me… you provoked it yourself!"
The surrounding ninjas shook their heads in exasperation and gradually dispersed, leaving Raizen standing alone—smiling, victorious, and still very much a threat despite his five-year-old frame.