Team-9 ran to Anko, worried and apprehensive. Anko herself looked nervous as the waves of heat and chakra washed over her and felt the danger Masumoto posed— she herself felt danger from Masumoto as he was now. She didn’t know if Takuma would be able to defeat him.

“Anko, you should call the fight,” said Iori, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Anko glanced at her team before turning to Toridasu.

She asked, “What is that jutsu?”

Just from the chakra saturated the environment, it was clear that this was a B-rank ninjutsu at the minimum—maybe even higher.

“It’s Fire Style: Chakra Mode, a B-rank ninjutsu of the supplementary category. He’s coating his entire body with a cloak of fire chakra. In theory, the jutsu is fairly simple. The fire incinerates any attack thrown at him, and it allows him to scorch through his enemies with a very potent nintaijutsu.”

A term used to describe fighting styles that incorporate the use of ninjutsu and taijutsu.

“This jutsu has limitless potential. The Raikage uses the lightning version of it, Lightning Style: Chakra Mode—in fact, it’s his signature jutsu. He’s arguably the most powerful shinobi currently alive and his use of that jutsu is heavily responsible for that.” Toridasu looked at her. “Your boy is in danger, Anko. Both of them are close-range melee fighters. And Mausmoto just got an extreme boost to his taijutsu. You might want to listen to your team’s suggestions… call it off,” he said without the usual lightheartedness in his eyes.

Anko turned her gaze back to the fight. Takuma had his raised hand up in front of his face to protect it from the sheer heat, and it looked like he couldn’t even stand properly from the fringe effects of Masumoto’s jutsu.

“Anko!” Iori urged.

Protecting her own was Anko’s responsibility as their leader. In her opinion, Takuma had already proved his value and Team-9’s virtue for the benefit of Toridasu. He didn’t need to prove himself more than he had already shown.

But the truth was that none of it mattered anymore.

“He failed his academy graduation test twice,” Anko said to Toridasu, recalling Takuma’s file, what he told her, and something she heard from Kameko. “He told me that you were there for the third attempt, which he passed—but what’s surprising is that they didn’t give him a chance to get on a jonin team because his grades were piss poor…. They pushed him into the Genin Corp without allowing a jonin to check him.

“I don’t think that boy, who was denied that basic opportunity, and then managed to climb his way to a leadership position in the Uchiha’s den would appreciate anyone telling him what he can or cannot do.”

Anko crossed her arms and returned to the fight, much to the wonder of Toridasu and the astonishment of her team.

Inside, however, she was struggling to convince herself that she’d made the right choice.

———

.

The smoldering heat made Takuma wish he had at least kept his inner vest on. He absently wondered if this was what working in a smelting factory felt like but reined his focus in. It was tough to stay focused right now: he had lost a lot of blood, was dehydrated, and was dealing with dozens of injuries of various seriousness.

“You’re good as dead, kid!” said Masumoto; the flames around his body roared as he pointed at Takuma.

And then there was him.

Takuma took a hot breath and weaved hand seals for the Water Style: Hidden Mist Jutsu to alter the playing field and give him some cover while he spent some time thinking about how to proceed.

He quickly followed with Water Style: Eight Tentacles, grimacing as lances of pain shot up and down his elbow. Two tentacles merged into one and wrapped around his hurt arm to support his injured elbow. He had done it for his out-of-commission leg during the assassination attempt, and luckily for him, his arm wasn’t completely disabled nor did it bear half of his body weight so two tentacles were enough for support. The remaining tentacles covered as much of his body as they could to provide any protection against the oppressive heat.

His ears were damaged, dulling his hearing, and in any other case, he wouldn’t have used the Hidden Mist Jutsu as he relied on his ears to traverse under the fog, but Masumoto had turned himself into a walking light bulb… one that could easily burn him to ashes..

Takuma pulled out three shuriken, intending to see if Masumoto’s chakra cover deflected solid metal. He got himself in the position and was about to throw the shuriken when he noticed the visibility improving by the moment, and in just a few seconds, the mist had dissipated, turning increasingly thin.

In front of his eyes, Masumoto went from a mass of light to a blurry humanoid figure, coated in angry flames.

‘H-He’s heating the mist into vapor,’ Takuma gasped in astonishment.

Masumoto turned to face Takuma, who saw his grin through the translucent flames. “Found you,” he grinned before breaking into a sprint, heading straight for Takuma.

With the mist neutralized, Takuma had no choice but to face the threat head-on. He immediately fell back, keeping a safe distance away between them and threw three shuriken. Masumoto laughed, and a ring of fire burst out of his body. It passed through the shuriken and they lost all their momentum, burning cherry-red and sinking to the ground.

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“I don’t like running, Scars!” Masumoto yelled, stretching his words.

When Takuma didn’t reply, Masumoto punched out a dense cloud of fire with a smokey trail. For a moment, Takuma wondered if he had thrown Fire Style: Fireball at him. He broke it apart with a second form punch.

“But can you do that like this?!” Masumoto jabbed in quick succession, sending half a dozen burning fire clouds toward Takuma.

Masumoto deduced it right. Takuma couldn’t use his augmentations in quick succession. He jumped around to evade the fire clouds—but in doing so, he let Masumoto close the distance. The flames around his arm morphed into a rough gauntlet, much like his previous ninjutsu.

Takuma jumped to the side at the last moment. The flaming gauntlet struck a glancing blow to his shoulder. Takuma felt the force travel around his torso and spun like a top before slamming into the ground. Through the nausea, Takuma thanked higher powers that they fought on soft ground instead of concrete or tar roads.

He could smell his burnt hair but he didn’t have time to worry. Running wasn’t an option so he pulled out a kunai and stood his ground.

Masumoto looked irked that Takuma had gotten up. The chakra cloak that had subsided to a modest fire flared back to its peak ignition as Masumoto surged ahead.

Takuma pushed his body to the limit, dancing around Masumoto. His chakra cloak granted him dangerous power, but it didn’t fix his habit of not moving around enough. Takuma ducked and rolled under Masumoto’s high-intensity assault. He jumped back and forth, going in and out of melee range to force Masumoto to move around.

It was painful. The tentacle armor protected him from most of the heat, but it wouldn’t last for long. Masumoto’s elevated strength, his ranged fire clouds, and the fire’s blinding light were hindrances that Masumoto took full advantage of as he struck through Takuma’s defenses. He was giving Takuma the Ring treatment: his shoulders and knees were given repeated beatings; he had to protect his calves and thighs from searing kicks that had struck him one too many times; he had to protect his face from sudden attacks that would then be followed by quick body strikes that hurt his organs.

Not to mention his elbow: Takuma did all he could to make sure Masumoto didn’t damage it even further.

Takuma felt the fatigue building up in his aching muscles. He could no longer see properly from his right eye because of how swollen it was. His breathing grew labored as his offense built on the continuous movement to break through Masumoto’s weak points wasn’t doing much damage. At least, not enough to pull him down to Takuma’s level.

As the exhaustion set in, his mind grew heavier, and so did the desperation to find something to turn the tide. He had one more untested weapon in his arsenal, but he needed time to weave hand seals and carefully direct his chakra. Option after option rushed through his mind; he dug deep into his previous fights, looking for anything he had done that would work—but everything failed.

Even bombarding Masumoto with explosive tags wasn’t viable.

But then his augmented headbutt came front and center in his thoughts, and Takuma felt an epiphany open up his mind.

He didn’t need to augment his eight points of contact (2 fists, 2 elbows, 2 knees, 2 shins)̦—he could augment anything with striking power.

Takuma dug his feet into the ground and charged at Masumoto instead of being forced to move back.

Masumoto was all the happier to have his target come closer and upped the heat, every step of his leaving behind a burning footprint in the grass. A trail of fire lit up behind him and the two met in a sea of flames created by their fight.

Takuma readied an aching shoulder and summoned chakra toward the tenketsu points near his shoulder, arm, and upper chest.

Masumoto pulled his arm back and swung it hard for a haymaker that hit Takuma straight in the face, but in the same moment, Takuma bodied Masumoto with an augmented shoulder charge more powerful than any taijutsu attack he had ever used.

Masumoto didn’t fly away over the field, instead, he blasted down to the ground. The air was knocked from his chest, and his eyes were on the verge of popping out as he made a crater around him. Takuma, however, was blown back for miscalculating and overloading the augmentation, along with Masumoto blasting him with fire. Unlike Masumoto, Takuma flew away, hit his head on the ground, and was dragged for meters until his face and neck were buried in dirt.

But there was no time to moan about the pain.

Takuma slowly pulled himself up to his knees, wheezing and coughing all the dirt he had in his mouth and nose—he no longer had any strength in his legs and core. He saw Masumoto get up, looking hurt and angrier than before. With the blood flooding down his face and the burns all over his body from the earlier explosion, he looked absolutely terrifying. The dim chakra cloak roared as though responding to his overflowing rage and he thundered toward Takuma with earth-burning stomps.

The tentacle armor didn’t make it out intact from the impact and he had to bear the awful pain from his elbow as he weaved hand seals. He joined his trembling hands together, with only his index and middle finger stretched out to the front, making the colloquial hand gesture for mimicking a gun.

A globe of water formed in front of the finger gun.

Water Release: Spirit Water Wave

“Bang.”

A pressurized water bullet, as wide as his finger, shot out of the water glob. It immediately broke the sound barrier with a sharp snap. Masumoto, who was watching his hand seals and expecting Water Release: Wild Water Wave, didn’t change his path, confident in his chakra cloak’s ability to shrug the ninjutsu away. He froze, caught between the thought of holding confidence in his cloak or jumping out of the way—in the end, he chose to rely on his cloak’s defense.

The bullet penetrated the fire cloak, sliced through his shoulder, tore a chunk of muscle, and shattered his collarbone. Masumoto screamed in agony and dropped to his knees. He shuddered and whimpered in pain as he held his useless shoulder

Takuma took in a deep breath. His head hung for a moment after he saw the water bullet hit his target. Hope filled him as he raised his hand and readied another shot.

“Bang.”

The bullet didn’t fire, and the globe splashed down to the ground. The jutsu failed. Takuma expected that to happen when he fired the first bullet because he had only used the jutsu a few times with great failure during training.

“Come on, come on, come on…” He muttered to himself as he weaved the hands seals for the Water Release: Spirit Water Wave again.

He looked up and saw that Masumoto was back on his feet.

“Bang.”

The moment the water globe formed; Takuma took his shot. But this time, Masumoto was ready for it. He squared his guard and thrust his hands forward; a wall of fire extended from his cloak. The water bullet pierced the wall, but lost most of its speed and power doing so. Still, it left a bruise on Masumoto’s lower thigh, which he shrugged off and continued marching toward Takuma.

The ninjutsu failed again, and Takuma felt helpless. He took out three kunai with explosive tags and chucked them at Masumoto. The fire cloak once again foiled his plans and burned through the tags before they had the chance to explode.

“COME ON, FALL!”

As though responding to Takuma’s frenzied cries, Masumoto’s knees gave out on him, and he fell to the ground. The burning cloak flickered like a weak bonfire on a windy night. Masumoto got up and dragged his feet across the ground to reach Takuma, who wasn’t in the shape to avoid him.

When he was a few meters away, the cloak flickered crazily and went out for good.

“Fuck!” Masumoto cursed but continued to move closer to Takuma until he could no longer do so and sagged to the ground on his knees. He was still conscious but barely, and looked so exhausted that breathing was all he could do.

Takuma, still on his knees, closed his eyes and let his shoulders relax.

He had done it.

He wasn’t able to beat Masumoto, but he won.