Hanzo's instincts screamed warning the instant the air chilled around him, a prickling shift that set every nerve alight—but reaction lagged a fatal beat behind.
He'd clashed with kekkei genkai wielders before, their inherited edges sharp but predictable. Ice Release? Uncharted territory, especially after Kyuushin's cascade of water jutsu had painted him as a water specialist, lulling expectations into that single-nature groove.
By shinobi norms, a kid Kyuushin's age mastering one chakra type marked genius territory—prodigy whispers and all. Yet Kyuushin shattered those molds; water affinity was just the surface, backed by chakra oceans that dwarfed grown veterans.
Spotting the water dragon's charge, Hanzo had cleaved it without mercy, blind to the lightning ambush coiled inside—like a viper in the waves. That oversight froze him now, literally.
Lightning had been the feint, though; Ice Release loomed as the real endgame, a hidden ace flipped in the chaos.
What tipped battles among shinobi? Intel—raw, unfiltered edges. Even kage-tier legends crumbled if their playbook lay bare, a jonin seizing the slip to topple titans.
Kyuushin's baseline power already commanded respect; layering surprise like this? A cage slammed on Hanzo, buying the youth precious seconds.
Encased head to toe in the frost shroud, Hanzo's mind raced clear, fury fueling a chakra detonation that strained against the bind. He poured everything into the breakout, willing the prison to yield.
"Crack—crack."
Freedom came, as it must for one of his caliber; the icy veneer wasn't a full jutsu—just mist flash-frozen into a brittle shell, a hasty restraint born of opportunity.
Shattering it proved child's play for Hanzo's reserves, but the victory rang hollow. The ice dragon hurtled unchecked, its maw a glacial promise of ruin.
"Boom!!!"
No guard raised in time; the colossal form slammed home, impact rippling like a thunderclap across the sodden plain.
"Ahhh!!!" Hanzo's roar tore free, raw agony twisting the unbreakable—pain that echoed his unyielding pride.
The dragon didn't relent post-strike; momentum carried Hanzo airborne in a brutal arc before the construct grounded, carving a serpentine trench through mud and stone, debris fountaining in its wake.
Tsunade, Orochimaru, and Jiraiya rooted in stunned silence, faces a gallery of slack-jawed awe amid the battlefield's roar.
Since Kyuushin's academy days, they'd mentored him on ops, drilled techniques side-by-side—yet Ice Release? A total blindside, this kekkei genkai revelation hitting like a rogue kunai.
The indomitable Hanzo, who'd toyed with their trio's onslaught like a game, now reeled from a half-pint's jutsu—a kid barely into his teens landing a blow that shook the earth.
The aftermath spoke volumes: trench depth, frost-rimed craters, the sheer force screaming devastation. For a ninja world apex like Hanzo to howl under that hit? Agony etched bone-deep, no question.
"Kyuushin, you..." Tsunade's throat tightened, words fumbling in the whirlwind of her thoughts, questions piling like storm clouds she couldn't voice.
Orochimaru's perpetual poise cracked, lips parted in rare vulnerability, while Jiraiya jabbed a quivering finger, mouth working soundlessly, shock rendering the boisterous sage mute.
"Everyone, Ice Release is new for me—still rough around the edges," Kyuushin offered, stepping into the awkward hush with casual clarity, his breath steady despite the drain.
Synthesis complete, he'd never plotted to bury this power; Wood Release might warrant Mito's counsel, a deeper village tie, but Ice? No strings, no whispers needed.
Silence bought assumption—who'd suspect self-forged origins? Play it as a latent awakening, and envy followed: lucky break for the redhead, nothing more.
Kekkei genkai rarity fueled the allure, yet villages cradled them—Konoha's Uchiha flames and Hyuga eyes stood as beacons, proof bloodlines bloomed without scandal.
Reveal the truth, though? Self-cultivated Ice Release flipped the script, a manufactured legacy that screamed threats.
Konoha would probe relentlessly; bloodline legacies promised generational might, clans rising on that foundation for centuries. The allure? Irresistible, motives twisting in shadows.
Worse for outsiders: Konoha's dominance already loomed large. Arm them with bloodline blueprints? Unstoppable ascent, a nightmare for rival nations.
Elimination became mandate—snuff Kyuushin to stem the tide, no mercy in the balance.
Thus, the veil held firm now; only he and Mito shared the core truth. She grasped the perils, lips sealed by wisdom, leaving Kyuushin to spin the awakening yarn.
Future bloodline pursuits loomed, secrets fraying inevitable—but by then, his ascent would crest, strength a shield against whispers or blades.
Internal scrutiny? External hunts? Laughable, once power matched the peril.
Ice Release's debut hadn't been the blueprint—Hanzo's dogged pursuit forced the hand, a premature showcase to humble the hunter.
Body adaptation to the element lagged, though; wrenching this scale prematurely guzzled chakra like a vortex, leaving him hollowed.
Post-explanation, knees buckled toward collapse, the void gnawing unpleasantly—exhaustion's cruel echo.
Tsunade snapped from her daze, alarm flashing at his ashen pallor; she lunged to assess, hands hovering with medic's instinct.
Kyuushin waved her off, gulping air in ragged pulls. "Easy—pure chakra burnout. A breather, and I'm solid."
From his pouch, soldier pills tumbled into palm—seven, eight swallowed in a defiant gulp. Stomach churned as nutrients kicked in, a faint warmth chasing the chill, easing the edge.
The Ice Dragon Technique mirrored Water Dragon Bullet's frame, a conceptual twin he'd sketched in quiet hours—yet its hunger dwarfed expectations, a beast far thirstier than anticipated.
Mid-cast, he'd sensed untapped depths: raw power scaled higher, but premature pull sapped control, chakra straining to feed the form.
It evoked Senju Hashirama's Wood Release: Wood Dragon Technique—no need to hype its legend, the colossal bind that caged even the Nine-Tails' fury, unbreakable as fate.
Kyuushin wagered his ice counterpart held similar promise; untested against Wood's pinnacle, yet it eclipsed kin like Water or Earth Dragon Bullets, a cut above in scope and bite.
Orochimaru and Jiraiya closed ranks then, shock ebbing into battlefield focus—eyes scanning threats, minds realigning to the grind.
Orochimaru's tongue flicked across lips, curiosity sharpening his gaze. "Reckon Hanzo drags himself up from that pit?"
Words barely faded when Hanzo's silhouette stirred, rising unsteadily from the gouged earth afar.
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