Lock's blade carved across the wiry boy's throat, and blood sprayed into the air. The kill was clean, efficient—but it came at a cost. His burst of speed slowed the instant after.
The tall boy roared in shock, but his instincts kicked in. Trained reflexes guided him—his fist snapped forward, meeting Lock's kick head-on.
"Die!"
Boom!
The impact numbed Lock's leg and sent him skidding backward. He rolled once, braced, and slid across the dirt, stopping only after ten paces. He steadied himself, eyes sharp, watching his opponent with newfound caution.
The tall boy dropped to his knees, cradling his fallen comrade. The wiry sensor-nin clutched at his killer's leg with trembling hands, as if trying to form words, but his breath rattled and died in his chest. His eyes remained wide, frozen in disbelief even as life left them.
The tall boy's chest heaved. "Damn it…!" His voice cracked, grief strangled by rage. He threw his head back, eyes bloodshot, and spat the name like venom. "Lock—you bastard!"
Lock's expression didn't change. His tone was cold, even. "Don't forget—you were the ones who picked this fight. He died because he overestimated himself. A sensor-nin who thought he could see through everything… too naïve."
It was true. The boy had fallen for Lock's feint from the beginning, blinded by overconfidence. The plan was simple: hide the shadow clone, walk out openly as the real body, and bait them into thinking they'd uncovered the trick. The sensor had taken the bait.
When they launched their combined jutsu at the clone, Lock had already closed the distance. Ten meters was all he needed. In that space, he was absolute.
A single flash step, and the boy was gone.
The tall boy drew in a ragged breath. But instead of snapping in grief, his body stilled. His expression hardened. The fury in his eyes dimmed into something colder, sharper.
Lock narrowed his gaze. He's trained… really trained. Watching a comrade die and still pulling himself back to calm at that age? Not normal.
The boy's voice was steady now. "You lured us from the start. A shadow clone to draw our eyes, hiding it where we'd assume your real body was waiting. Meanwhile, you stood in plain sight. We thought we'd seen through you, but it was the opposite."
His grip tightened on the short blade at his side. "To master shadow clones and speed techniques this young… you're dangerous. Too dangerous to be left alive."
Lock said nothing. The analysis was correct.
He watched closely as the boy's hands blurred through seals—but then stopped. The boy froze, pupils shrinking. Lock's outline had already vanished from view.
"Invisible again…" he muttered, cursing under his breath. He knew better than anyone what this meant. Without his partner's sensing, tracking Lock was nearly impossible.
His jaw tightened. He broke the sequence of signs and shifted to another jutsu instead. His body coiled like a spring, ears straining, scanning every angle. He knew Lock wouldn't retreat. The fight wasn't over.
Shffft!
Dozens of kunai rained from all sides, whistling through the air.
"—Tch!"
The boy ripped his short blade free, his arm moving in a blur. Steel clashed against steel, sparks spraying as he deflected strike after strike. The last kunai spun harmlessly into the dirt.
And then—
Whoosh!
He lunged suddenly to his left, blade stabbing out at space.
Crack!
The steel punched through a log. A substitution.
His eyes narrowed. He dragged the knife back, scanning hard. "Fast… sharp… his reaction speed's insane. He's no ordinary Genin. Not even an average Chūnin would press me like this."
From the shadows, Lock's thoughts mirrored the tension. His reflexes are sharp. Kunai alone won't bait him. Closing to ten meters won't be easy anymore.
He adjusted his grip on his weapon, invisible once more. The hunt had shifted.
And both knew—the next clash would decide it.
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