Chapter 12: Night
"…One of the Legendary Sannin, Jiraiya. A disciple of Sarutobi Hiruzen."
There was another sharp whoosh. Before Jiraiya could react, the masked Uchiha blurred out of sight and reappeared at his original position.
His wrist trembled slightly. As Jiraiya staggered back, clutching his bleeding shoulder, a faint ember flickered to life at the tip of the seemingly dead branch the Uchiha wielded—like countless invisible eyes staring at him through the darkness.
"There are countless ways to analyze your abilities," the Uchiha said evenly. "But can you understand ours?"
"…?"
Strange.
Jiraiya narrowed his eyes, studying the man's Konoha forehead protector and spinning Sharingan. Something about him felt… unnatural.
Chakra pulsed through Jiraiya's body, yet he couldn't sense even a trace of it from his opponent. The Uchiha wasn't molding chakra—he was manipulating the world itself. Every movement bent the surrounding air, as if nature obeyed his will.
And yet, there was no killing intent. No malice. No bloodlust.
That was what unsettled Jiraiya the most.
This wasn't how an enemy fought.
Was Tsunade right? Could these really be Konoha shinobi resurrected—or worse, controlled—by a forbidden technique?
If that was true…
Jiraiya's lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile.
"I admit, I don't understand the techniques of my seniors," he said, his tone dry but respectful. "If you'd be so kind as to enlighten me, I'd be grateful."
"…My companion's ability," the Uchiha replied, voice low, "is to drag both himself and his opponent into a spiritual domain—a soul space."
Jiraiya's eyes widened slightly.
"He can pull a chosen target into that world and fight them one on one. During that time, no one else can intervene. Unless he willingly releases the technique, your comrades will only return when he dies or loses consciousness."
"I see…" Jiraiya murmured, his expression unreadable.
He really explained it?
Could it truly be a loyal Konoha shinobi forced to fight against his will?
But before Jiraiya could think further, the Uchiha's form flickered—and vanished.
Instinct screamed. Jiraiya rolled aside just as a sharp gust sliced through where he had been standing.
"Damn it! He's too fast—no time to form seals! How the hell is he moving that quickly?!"
He barely dodged another strike, but before he could recover, a short, sharp cry escaped him as a wooden branch slammed into his back.
"Ninja battles require more than brute strength," the Uchiha said calmly, stepping back as Jiraiya stumbled forward. "If you can't win through taijutsu, you'll fall before the fight even begins."
He swung again. Jiraiya twisted, but the next blow grazed his ribs.
"If you face an opponent like this," the Uchiha continued, voice steady, "and can't suppress them with wide range ninjutsu, expose a weakness deliberately—then counter precisely."
"Easy for you to say…" Jiraiya grimaced, rubbing his shoulder. "You're not exactly holding back, Senior."
"I've already shown mercy, junior."
The Uchiha's voice was cold but composed. His form blurred again, leaving only the faint whistle of wind.
Jiraiya clenched his jaw. His frustration mounted as every attempt to weave hand seals ended with another punishing strike. The enemy's speed was inhuman, his movements effortless.
Damn it… this isn't a fight—it's a lesson!
The wooden branch struck him again—shoulder, ribs, thigh—each blow deliberate, precise. The flames flickering at its tip grew brighter with every impact.
Jiraiya's temper flared. He ducked one strike, countered with a sweep, but was immediately struck across the waist. He winced, forcing a strained grin.
"Heh… Senior, why are you so damn fast? Some kind of special technique?"
"This step," the Uchiha replied quietly, "is called Flash Step. It fuses natural energy with movement, reducing air resistance and allowing seamless high speed motion through real space. It's essentially an advanced form of instantaneous movement."
"Natural energy?" Jiraiya's eyes widened. "You mean… senjutsu?"
Why?
Why would someone fight purely by manipulating natural energy—without chakra, without seals?
Furthermore, wouldn't someone who possessed such power use senjutsu directly? How could they manipulate only natural energy? More importantly—why were they wearing Konoha forehead protectors and uniform white cloaks?
"Are you surprised?"
With a sudden whoosh, the Uchiha ninja vanished from sight, reappearing atop a tree branch above. Looking down at Jiraiya, who was breathing heavily, he spoke in a low, gravelly voice.
"A thousand years ago, the Sage of Six Paths founded the Shinobi Clan and granted chakra to mankind. Chakra is the essence of life energy—and when it's stripped away, death follows. That raises a question."
He paused, his crimson eyes gleaming under the moonlight.
"How did humans survive a thousand years ago—before chakra existed?"
Jiraiya frowned, saying nothing.
"The answer is simple," the Uchiha continued. "We never needed chakra to begin with. Humanity thrived on willpower and the energy of nature itself. Chakra is foreign—an external force. And foreign power is rejected by the world's natural order. This is balance."
He raised his hand slightly, as if feeling the air ripple around him.
"Compared to the violent chaos of nature's flow, chakra is refined and restrained—gentle, adaptable. That's why it became humanity's chosen path. But over time, it consumed the world until no other way remained."
Jiraiya's eyes narrowed. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the truth of ninjutsu, Jiraiya," the Uchiha replied calmly. "Understanding the problem is the first step to solving it."
The words had barely left his lips before Jiraiya launched forward, his leg arcing in a fierce kick. But the Uchiha merely tilted his head aside, dodging effortlessly, and countered with his own.
The blow landed like a thunderclap.
Jiraiya's body slammed into a massive tree, the trunk splintering on impact. He coughed blood and dropped to one knee, gasping for air.
"The lesson ends here," said the Uchiha, his tone cold and detached.
Looking down at the battered shinobi before him, his Sharingan gleamed with regret.
"If you can't hold out any longer, you'll die here—your death serving as a warning to Konoha. At the very least, try to endure until the other battlefield resolves."
"Hah… easy for you to say," Jiraiya rasped, spitting blood onto the soil. He managed a crooked grin.
His gaze flicked to the dead branch in his opponent's hand—its tip now glowing faintly with green smoke. A prickling sensation crawled across his skin. The pressure in the air twisted, and he felt something far more terrifying than killing intent.
This was death itself.
But Jiraiya wasn't the type to cower.
"…Mimicry Broken Path, Four—White Thunder!"
A spark of white light streaked past as he leapt aside. The earth where he had stood moments ago erupted with a deafening explosion.
A blinding flash followed by a thunderous crack tore through the clearing. Through the smoke, the Uchiha's figure materialized—unscathed—his charred branch now burning with fierce crimson flames.
The air was thick with smoke and ozone. The faint scent of burning wood filled Jiraiya's lungs.
That "branch" wasn't ordinary—it pulsed with killing energy.
The fire at its tip flared brighter, crimson merging with streaks of black, forming a vortex of searing power.
Jiraiya's instincts screamed.
He had no choice.
Chakra surged violently through his body, coating his limbs in a blue aura.
"Blut Vene!"
"Release—ignition!"
A deafening roar split the night as a massive fireball burst skyward, painting the dark forest in blinding orange light. The explosion tore through the trees, sending waves of heat rolling through the clearing.
Flames engulfed everything.
Through the inferno, only one sound remained—a harsh, grating scrape echoing amidst the crackling blaze.
Jiraiya exhaled through his teeth, a strained laugh escaping him. "Sosuke's work really is something else… the jonin version might've cost a fortune, but damn, it holds up."
"…Aizen Sosuke," the Uchiha murmured.
"Oh? So you know him too?" Jiraiya grinned, flames reflecting in his eyes. "He's a good man, isn't he?"
The Uchiha's gaze darkened. "Good… perhaps. But dangerous."
Across the flaming field, Jiraiya stood almost untouched, faint blue markings rippling along his body. The energy of the Blut Vene shimmered across his skin like living armor.
He smirked, brushing soot from his cheek. "So far, so good, eh, Senior? If you've got more wisdom to share, I'm all ears."
"…Ah. There's still plenty."
The Uchiha closed his eyes, stepped lightly—then vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind Jiraiya, the burning branch poised to strike. His voice was hoarse now, twisted by fury—or perhaps sorrow.
"But this feeling—of being at another's mercy—it's unbearable."
Boom!
A pillar of fire roared upward once more, consuming the forest around them.
When the flames thinned, a single figure stood in the blaze—shrouded in blue light, arms folded, his gaze unwavering.
Jiraiya.
He faced the Uchiha squarely, his expression calm, unshaken.
The two men locked eyes.
And without a word, they charged.
Within seconds, the forest was ablaze once more—their silhouettes dancing amid the inferno.
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