(Koji POV)

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Keeping my guard up, I took a slow, steady breath, wiping the blood from my face.

It didn’t take long to notice something strange.

I’d assumed the black lightning I used was just limited to my lariat, but now it crackled across my entire body. Seeing it there, flickering over my skin—it felt unreal, but somehow, it was the least of my concerns.

The odd tattoo that had covered my body was gone, replaced by a solid brown hue that covered my body from my hands to my neck, maybe even covering my face. My body had transformed, becoming tougher and more muscular than I ever was, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Third Raikage, my mentor.

‘Did this transformation happen mid-battle, or when my mind regained clarity?’

Stranger still was the newfound awareness I had of every inch of my body. The way it moved and felt—it was more organized, more connected, like I could control it down to the smallest detail. It was almost as if I could reshape myself at will, adjusting muscle and bone mass in my arms, though not entirely in the literal sense.

I didn’t know how that torturer had managed to create a serum capable of marking my skin in this way, or granting this power, but the effects were quite desirable. If my village managed to replicate it, it could be immensely valuable. My chakra reserves had multiplied several times over, my wounds healed faster, and I recovered from exhaustion at a much quicker rate. (But even with these changes, I still wasn’t fully shielded from the intense, bone-chilling cold of the mist around me.)

But the possibilities troubled me too. If Konoha managed to recreate this serum and give its shinobi such power, they could rise unchallenged once again, just like in the days my father used to talk to me about.

A faint, creeping doubt began to take root—

“Agh!”

“Didn’t I tell you? No daydreaming in the middle of a fight,” a voice snapped.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed through the sting as something pierced my body. I tried to force out the supposed senbons by discharging my muscles with lightning (though nothing came out of it) and I instinctively lunged towards her, only to find that she was nowhere to be seen, again.

I’d allowed myself to be distracted, but even so, I should have sensed the attack. Why didn’t I?

Realizing my senses were failing me—or, at least, becoming less reliable—I decided to approach this a different way.

“Lightning Release: Raijin’s Wrath!”

Channeling the stored lightning within me, I unleashed it in sharp arcs that shot out in all directions, filling the air with crackling light.

The move drained my chakra at an intense rate, but now I could afford to do it a few more times if needed.

With my guard up, I scanned the area, searching for any sign of her in the flashing light—but again, she was nowhere to be fou-

“Agh!”

Once more, the familiar pain surges through me, sharpening my senses to a point that’s nearly unbearable. I’m sure now—it isn’t just in my head; I wasn’t pierced by senbons a moment ago, nor am I being stung by them now. It’s something else, something that grows sharper as the air around me cools, the cold amplifying the ache until it feels like it’s burrowing deeper into my bones.

Then it starts—

“Agh!”

Gritting my teeth, I push through the pain, channeling a small spark of lightning to my ears in a desperate attempt to heighten my hearing, to catch even the faintest whisper of her movements. This is my first time attempting it under these conditions, and the pain it brings is nothing short of excruciating but it manageable as along as I—

“Agh!”

The pain overtakes me, wrenching my focus back. I force myself to regroup, deciding to deaden the sensation in my body by running lightning directly along my nerves, indifferent to the permanent damage it might cause. The agony dulls just enough to let me focus again, the sharp edges blurring, until I catch a distant voice.

“Ice Release: Ice Spear.”

I spin, barely catching hold of the spear’s freezing handle as it appears behind me. My fingers grip tight, and I pull back, trying to drag her toward me, but she’s already abandoned the weapon, flickering forward with the speed of a body flicker, an ice sword gleaming in her grasp.

Instead of dodging, I raise my right hand to intercept the blow, my arm swelling to twice its usual size to absorb the impact. We’re locked in place, her sword pressing against my hand, and neither one budging an inch.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Is your tattoo invisible, or are you still holding back?” I ask, finding it oddly unsettling to see her this close.

Up close, she looks almost ordinary—no bizarre features, no signs of strain, though I wasn't too sure as her mask with the hooked pattern covers much of her face.

She wears a fitted black uniform that, despite myself, draws my attention to the toned shape of her frame.

…..

‘What am I even doing…?’

Shaking my head to clear it, I feel a strange drain on my chakra which is rapidly depleting. A sinking feeling pools in my stomach—could her ice structure be leeching my chakra?

I force myself to act, swinging my right arm down in a diagonal slash while stepping back to reset my stance. Then I lunge forward with a roundhouse kick aimed at her, but her fist encased in solid ice withstand it. She seizes my leg, making me lose balance, yanking me forward, bringing her fist crashing into my abdomen.

Thud.

I hit the ground hard, my ribs throbbing yet decisively I try to spin into a sweep kick to throw her off.

Effortlessly she evades and slams her ice-encased foot up into my chin, sending me skidding back across the ground. (Is ice supposed to be this solid? It’s like colliding with stone.)

Rising shakily, the chill seeps deeper into my muscles, slowing me, and now the pain has become a constant presence—a raw ache that’s impossible to ignore.

"This is for all or nothing."

"Lightning Release: Max Overdrive!"

I covered myself in an aura of crackling black lightning, feeling it pulse and hum over my skin, forcing every muscle, especially in my legs, to their limit. I accepted the permanent damage this would cause—limbs that would probably never feel anything again, a body that might never fully recover.

This was my final gambit.

Inspired by my idol, Blue B, I decided to end this once and for all with a lariat. I focused everything on my right arm, condensing my bones so tightly they bulged mid-way, pushing the limits of what I could do. (Shame I couldn’t conjure up a massive skull like his…)

Either she dies, or I do.

Drawing in a deep breath, I squared myself toward her, blocking every possible path she might take to escape.

"Lightning Release: Body Flicker!"

I launched forward as a blur of black lightning, my right arm arcing straight for her.

"Lightning Release: Lariat!"

"Ice Release: Crystal Ice Mirror!"

CRUNCH!!!!!!

I shattered through every mirror she summoned in front of me, one by one, until my arm finally connected with her skull, knocking out her head from her body before blood gushed out upwards as it

dropped to the floor immediately.

Panting hard, my breath shallow, I collapsed to the ground; my body was exhausted, drained of every ounce of power the tattoo could give for that one final move.

And it was worth it…

‘I can finally go home...’

But that warmth of relief was cut short as a wave of dread washed over me, an uneasy feeling settling deep in my gut.

I had killed her and that they would set me free based on the condition that gave me …but could I ever truly be free after a fight like this?

….

No…something was off. This dread wasn’t because of them…

I dragged my battered body across the ground toward her corpse, needing to confirm it. And then I saw the truth, the horror settling in as I stared at the pile of crushed ice lying where her body should have been.

"Ice clone…" The word slipped out, the trick finally registering.

So…she was still alive…

"It seems this is the end for you," her voice echoed from above, searing me with frustration and a sense of helplessness that nearly broke me.

All my hope was... crushed.

As I struggled to breathe in and out, each breath coming faster and shallower than the last, I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold seeping into my bones, the agitation bubbling inside, or the creeping shadow of fear. I didn’t know, and maybe it didn’t matter anymore. Gathering what strength I had left, I managed to ask her a question, knowing this might be my last.

"Who did you fight for?"

I knew it was a foolish question, one I could’ve replaced with anything else worth asking on a dying breath. But I still wanted to know what fueled her power—what drove her forward—and maybe, whether my own reasons for seeking strength had been flawed from the start... or if I was simply too weak.

...

"I fight... for my son's future," she answered, and somehow her words eased the ache in my heart.

‘Then I was right. I was just weak, Noa,’ I thought, as darkness swept over me, pulling me under. Memories began flashing through my mind, blurring into one another.

...

It makes me... wonder... do I regret going to the Land of Rice Paddies?

"Hah..."

Of course, I laugh it off.

...

Maybe if things had gone differently, I wouldn’t have met this end. Maybe I’d still be with Noa, watching her grow into a strong kunoichi, a fine shinobi worthy of pride... but...

...

I don’t regret it, because it was a mission—a duty any shinobi like me would have taken, no matter the risk. I was just unlucky, like so many before me who had the same fate.

This is the life I chose. It’s the life my family, my ancestors, and my comrades chose, each of us bound by our own resolve.

...

I only wish I had strength like those blessed with Kekkei Genkai. Maybe then I could’ve met my end on the battlefield with some measure of honor.

………

I just wish... I could see her... one last...

…….

…..

...