The five figures trailed behind stealthily, each whispering snide remarks.
Hearing them from a distance, Aoba's face darkened. Since when did he have a bounty on his head?
After a moment's thought, it wasn't hard to guess. The only thing in his public record that might draw that kind of attention was the false rumor—someone had labeled him the Jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails.
But that was nothing more than slander—a deliberate setup.
Danzo: Kawaki Aoba… you'll regret crossing me.
Aoba walked beside Sarutobi Asuma through the bustling street. Though it wasn't completely deserted yet, Aoba's keen sensory abilities picked up on something—minute chakra signatures approaching them silently, nearly imperceptible to the eye.
Though these insects weren't on the same level as the Aburame Clan's nano-scale kikaichū, they carried chakra signatures far more volatile—likely explosive tags embedded within them.
He had been maintaining his chakra sensory technique precisely to monitor the five figures trailing behind them. Had he let down his guard, he might not have detected these tiny threats.
But now that he had, they were no longer a threat.
With a flick of his fingers, threads of Raiton chakra crackled and arced outward, obliterating the approaching insects before they could make contact.
As long as they couldn't enter a host, their threat was negligible.
Asuma, standing beside him, furrowed his brow in confusion but said nothing. Aoba, staying true to his earlier promise, did not explain. This was Asuma's fight, and unless things got out of hand, he would not interfere.
He didn't even bother intercepting the few insects that veered toward Asuma.
Still unaware, Asuma failed to notice as several minuscule bugs latched onto his clothing, slipping under his collar and beginning to burrow into his skin.
Clap, clap, clap…
The slow sound of applause echoed from a nearby alleyway as the five attackers stepped out of the shadows.
"Well, well," the leader of the group sneered, his voice smooth and condescending. "As expected from someone with a bounty that high. You noticed our exploding insects. But what about your teammate there? Cold-hearted, aren't you? Just going to let him die?"
The leader's tone dripped with mockery, clearly trying to provoke Aoba.
But Aoba didn't bite. He barely even glanced at the speaker—though his wild, spiky hair did briefly remind him of a young Jiraiya.
Asuma, however, frowned and began patting himself down, searching for wounds or any sign of parasites. But no matter how thoroughly he checked, he found nothing—no insects, no marks.
"Tch. Ignorant brat," one of the attackers snorted. "He doesn't even know he's already dead."
From their perspective, Asuma was already doomed. Their exploding bugs were precise, their chakra absorption technique unmatched. Asuma was as good as dead.
They turned back to Aoba.
"You weren't our original target, kid," said one of the attackers. "But since we've run into you, we'll make an exception. Blame your luck—you're next."
Without another word, the five attackers rushed forward, all converging on Aoba.
Aoba sighed. Seriously? These idiots...
But he didn't move. He simply stepped back as Asuma darted forward, kunai in hand.
Aoba knew Asuma would take this fight. These were his opponents—his responsibility.
And even though their strength approached the Jōnin level, Aoba knew Asuma had a trump card.
He had eaten the Smoke-Smoke Fruit—a rare Kekkei Genkai-like ability Aoba had stumbled upon in a forgotten archive. With it, Asuma could become intangible, manipulate smoke, and suffocate enemies with deadly precision. It wasn't traditional chakra-based ninjutsu, but it was formidable nonetheless.
Still, Asuma needed room to fight. Aoba stepped back further.
The attackers misunderstood completely.
"Trying to run?!" one of them barked. "Afraid we'll bring Konoha's ANBU down on us? Too late!"
They surged forward—but stopped when one raised his hand and activated a hand seal.
"Kikaichū Implosion: Detonate!"
But… nothing happened.
Frowning, he repeated the hand seal.
Still nothing.
Panic began to creep into his voice.
The other four performed the same jutsu in rapid succession—no result.
"What the hell is this?! The insects burrowed in! We felt it!"
But it was already too late.
In the confusion, Asuma had vanished in a puff of smoke.
A shadow clone.
"Wait—behind us!"
Before they could react, the real Asuma was already among them. His kunai glinted in the light as it sliced toward one attacker's throat.
Though the man moved in time to block, his hand collided with something soft.
Another puff of smoke.
Another clone.
His eyes widened—but it was too late. The real Asuma stepped forward from the shadows, the kunai already drawn across the attacker's neck.
One down.
The others realized it too late. Their trump card had failed. Their prey was far stronger—and more prepared—than they'd assumed.
But at that critical moment, a powerful flying kick came out of nowhere, launching the attacking ninja through the air.
The Xuanyuan ninja tumbled across the dirt before finally skidding to a halt. His landing was clumsy, and he looked utterly disheveled. Yet he didn't care about appearances right now. His hand flew to his neck instinctively—where a shallow cut was bleeding.
"That was close," he muttered with a cold sweat. His gaze flicked toward the direction of the counterattack—and his pupils shrank in alarm.
There stood Sarutobi Asuma.
But something was wrong.
From Asuma's neck down to his abdomen, there was a gruesome gash that should have been fatal. Yet no blood spilled. Instead, thick white smoke billowed from the wound.
"What the hell?!" the ninja shouted. "He's not even bleeding. Is he immune to blades?!"
"Damn Konoha... hiding secret techniques like this," another of the Xuanyuan team growled.
"Well, he is the Hokage's son. It makes sense that he'd have access to high-level techniques," the first ninja replied. "But what now?"
"Heh," sneered a third. "We keep going. He's just a kid. There's no way he can maintain that jutsu forever."
The same ninja who had slashed Asuma earlier raised his sword and lunged again, this time aiming for Asuma's waist.
Even if that technique could nullify a slash, surely there were limits. He'd try decapitating him if he had to.
Asuma, still steaming with smoke, clenched his fists. His heart pounded. That last strike had come too fast—if not for his newly awakened ability, he'd be dead.
Despite his anger, he stayed composed. A frontal fight would only end in his defeat. But he had an edge his enemies didn't know about—an information advantage.
Under the moonlight, the blade glinted coldly as it arced toward him. Asuma didn't dodge. Instead, he stepped forward, raising a kunai in defiance.
Seeing this, the attacking ninja scoffed.
Clang!
Their blades clashed—and in a blink, Asuma's arm was severed. The blade carved across his abdomen again. But instead of gore, white smoke erupted.
No blood. No pain. Just smoke.
In the same instant, the kunai dropped from his severed hand—and the enemy snatched it without hesitation.
The Xuanyuan ninja didn't find this result strange. Compared to their combat experience, Asuma was just a rookie.
Even Asuma himself hadn't expected a direct win.
But as the smoke coiled around his enemy, Asuma smiled faintly.
His goal had been achieved.
The ninja across from him remained smug, even as the smoke clung unnaturally to his skin.
"Impressive trick, kid," he said. "But you're still naive. There are five of us, remember?"
At that moment, the remaining three Xuanyuan members launched their assault.
Wind Release: Air Bullet!
Water Release: Water Dragon Bullet!
Fire Release: Phoenix Fire Jutsu!
Three elemental jutsu came crashing toward Asuma from different directions. The fifth member of their team remained locked in combat with Kawaki Aoba, a highly wanted rogue ninja.
"Tch," Asuma sighed. "This was supposed to be a clean takedown... Guess I was too optimistic."
He could feel the restrained enemy beginning to break free from the smoke binding him. A Jonin's chakra was not so easily suppressed.
Time was up.
Without hesitation, Asuma retrieved an explosive tag from the pouch hidden in his intact hand and slapped it onto the enemy's chest.
BOOM!
The explosion roared just as the three jutsu collided with Asuma.
Smoke, fire, water, and chakra surged into a blinding shockwave. Asuma was blasted back, engulfed in elemental chaos.
The enemy ninja he'd tagged wasn't so lucky.
His head was mostly gone. A broken corpse slumped to the ground.
The other three Xuanyuan members didn't mourn. They only cursed the loss of a reliable comrade.
"Another down?!"
Suddenly, a scream echoed from a distance.
One of their teammates lay lifeless near Kawaki Aoba, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
"Really," Aoba muttered coldly, dusting his sleeve. "Didn't I say? This isn't your fight. So why do you keep charging in like fools?"
The remaining three turned pale.
Asuma's strange technique might've been a surprise—but Aoba's sheer lethality was something else.
If Asuma's ability was unknown, Aoba's efficiency was undeniable.
The Xuanyuan leader's confidence cracked. He began to retreat.
But then—
"You think I'd let you leave?" Asuma's voice rang from behind the smoke. "Time to taste my final move!"
Then, he added with a cough: "Aoba, keep an eye on my vitals. Just in case."
Kawaki Aoba: "...It would be cool if you didn't ruin the moment like that."
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