SideCharacter
patreon
Chapter 332-But how are you going to escape?
🕑 Added 2024-12-29 23:22:08 +0000 UTCThe dim light of the small, disorganized office cast long shadows, making the air feel suffocating. Renjiro stood a few feet away, his Sharingan glowing faintly, every nerve in his body screaming caution.
“While we were expecting some attacks from the other villages,” the man began, his voice smooth and condescending, “I wonder why Konoha only sent you.” His tone was mocking, yet there was an edge of curiosity that cut through the arrogance.
He adjusted his stance, casually spinning the kunai in his fingers. “You might have a lot of chakra, but surely the Hokage didn’t think you could bypass all our defenses alone?”
Renjiro remained silent, his crimson eyes locked on Sone, scanning every movement, every twitch. His senses were on high alert, and his mind raced to calculate his options.
Sone’s presence wasn’t just unsettling—it was oppressive. There was an aura about him, an unshakable confidence that spoke of someone who had no doubt he held the upper hand.
‘Yeah, no shit,’ Renjiro thought, his jaw tightening.
His mission was already precarious, and he hadn’t managed to retrieve any documents yet. Retreating without accomplishing his goal wasn’t an option, but the man before him wasn’t going to make this easy. Especially if he decided to engage him.
“Unless…” Sone’s smirk widened, his voice trailing off as if a sudden realization struck him. “The Jinchūriki transfer wasn’t your real target.”
Renjiro’s heartbeat quickened. He kept his expression neutral, unwilling to give away anything.
Sone chuckled darkly, as if relishing the tension in the room. “But why would this even be your target?” His tone turned mockingly thoughtful. “Has the Hokage grown senile? I’ve heard he’s getting old.”
Renjiro moved without warning, jumping back to create more distance between them. The movement was fluid, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to signal his intent. His hands blurred through a series of hand signs, and in one swift motion, he hurled star-shaped kunais at Sone.
The sharp whizz of the kunai cutting through the air was followed by a brief whoosh as Renjiro exhaled, coating the projectiles in fire chakra. The kunai glowed orange, streaking toward Sone like fiery comets.
“I am Sone Kageyama, by the way,” the man said nonchalantly, as if oblivious to the incoming attack. “Yes, I’m from that Kageyama clan. We’re quite famous, despite our size, and that’s largely because we—”
Sone cut himself off mid-sentence as he stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding the flaming kunai. His movement was effortless, almost lazy, yet precise enough to avoid the danger.
“Don’t they teach manners in Konoha?” Sone sneered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I was in the middle of myself or are the Uchiha jus—”
POP!
The sudden sound startled Sone as the kunai he had evaded abruptly changed trajectory, veering toward him again with unnatural precision. His smirk faltered, and he was forced to dodge once more, this time with a sharp twist of his torso.
Renjiro’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. ‘It’s been a while since I used this jutsu,’ he thought.
It was becoming annoying when Everyone referred to him as an Uchiha, but that was well out of his control. So he tried his best to let it go
Sone dodged each redirected kunai with increasing irritation, his movements fluid but lacking the ease from earlier.
Renjiro took the opportunity to flicker toward one of the cabinets he’d noticed earlier. Inside, he’d glimpsed scrolls that might contain the information he needed.
As he reached for the handle, a sudden rush of air was the only warning he got before a kick came hurtling toward his side. Renjiro ducked at the last second, the force of the kick passing just inches above him.
‘He’s faster than I thought,’ Renjiro noted, spinning low to the ground and seamlessly transitioning to a sweeping motion aiming to knock Sone off his feet.
But Sone was ready. He jumped, flipping mid-air as he spat several wind bullets down at Renjiro. The sharp whoosh of the wind projectiles was deafening in the small room.
Using the momentum of his failed sweeping kick, Renjiro launched himself into the air with a front flip, narrowly evading the wind bullets. As he reached Sone’s level, he thrust his palm forward, aiming for a decisive strike.
Sone mirrored the motion, their palms colliding with a resounding BOOM. The impact sent shockwaves through the room, scattering loose papers and knocking over a chair. Both men were thrown back, landing gracefully on opposite sides of the room.
“Ooh, so the documents are the real target,” Sone mused aloud, his tone playful but laced with malice.
Renjiro clenched and unclenched the hand that had met Sone’s strike. Something about the exchange felt… off. His hand tingled, not from pain, but from an odd, lingering sensation.
‘Why does it feel weird?’ Renjiro wondered. ‘There’s something unnatural about him… but I can’t put my finger on it.’
Sone didn’t give him time to think. His movements were swift and he was on Renjiro in an instant. A relentless flurry of punches, palm strikes, and kicks came at him from every angle.
The air around them filled with the sound of sharp, slicing movements—whip, whip, crack—as Sone’s strikes cut through the space between them with practised precision.
Renjiro’s Sharingan flared, the crimson tomoe spinning rapidly as he read each attack. Yet, even with the Sharingan's advantage, Sone’s speed and technique left no room for error.
Renjiro shifted his weight, deflecting a sharp punch aimed at his ribs. He twisted to the side, raising his forearm just in time to block a powerful kick aimed at his head.
Each impact sent reverberations through his body. His muscles strained as he countered, aiming a sharp jab at Sone’s shoulder, but Sone twisted gracefully, redirecting the blow as if it were a minor inconvenience.
“You know,” Sone said, his voice maddeningly calm, even conversational, as if the fight was merely a warm-up, “I’ve never fought an Uchiha before.” His tone carried an undercurrent of excitement, as though he were testing out a new toy.
“They say your Sharingan can see the future. Is that true?”
Renjiro clenched his jaw, refusing to answer. Every time he moved to counter, Sone anticipated it, deflecting and redirecting with an almost supernatural ease.
Sone’s attacks intensified, his strikes now coming in unpredictable patterns. Renjiro gritted his teeth, feeling the heat of exertion building in his limbs. He needed to change the flow of the fight.
With a sharp burst of chakra, four shadow clones appeared around him, seamlessly joining the fray.
The room erupted into chaos as the clones synchronized their movements, weaving in and out of Sone’s range with calculated precision. Renjiro’s clones worked in tandem, their strikes aiming to overwhelm him from every direction.
But Sone moved like water, his body flowing effortlessly between attacks. He ducked under a sweeping kick from one clone, pivoted to avoid a punch from another, and deflected a kunai slash with his forearm. His movements were so fluid that it seemed as if he anticipated their attacks before they even committed to them.
Renjiro’s frustration mounted. Even with the advantage of numbers, the tide of the battle wasn’t shifting in his favour. Despite holding back, it annoyed him that the only thing he could do was keep Sone at bay.
He watched as Sone twisted mid-step, sweeping his leg in a wide arc that destroyed three clones in a burst of smoke. The remaining clone pressed forward, but Sone’s counterattacks were merciless.
With a sharp crack, he shattered the defence of the final clone, dispersing it in a puff of smoke.
When the smoke cleared, Sone flickered toward one of the cabinets. Lightning chakra crackled around his kunai as he thrust it forward, aiming to stab just in front of it.
Clang!
Renjiro materialized in front of the cabinet, his hand gripping the electrified kunai. The lightning buzzed against his palm, but he held firm, his Sharingan glaring defiantly at Sone.
“You won’t be getting this,” Sone said, his tone dripping with arrogance.
“I don’t need to,” Renjiro replied his voice calm, almost mocking.
A faint smile played on his lips as his body dissolved into a puff of smoke. Sone’s kunai sank harmlessly into empty air, and the cabinet in front of him shimmered, transforming into a plain desk.
“He used the Transformation Jutsu on the cabinets,” Sone muttered, his smirk fading as realization dawned. His sharp gaze flicked around the room, scanning for any sign of the scrolls. One by one, the remaining cabinets shimmered and vanished, their contents disappearing along with them.
“Clever,” Sone admitted, a grudging respect lacing his words. “But how are you going to escape?”
Renjiro was already in the middle of forming a hand sign. A confident smirk played across his face as he slammed his palm onto the ground with a resounding thud.
The force of the impact reverberated through the room, and a faint glow began to spread from beneath his hand.
But nothing happened.
Renjiro’s smirk faltered, his expression shifting to confusion. He pressed his palm against the floor again, harder this time, but still, nothing responded to his chakra.
His eyes widened in shock. Panic began to creep into his chest as he realized something was wrong.
‘I can’t reverse summon myself!’ The thought hit him like a blow, his heartbeat quickening as the weight of his predicament sank in.
