"Got careless." Kisame went on, unconcerned. "Arm's broken, couple ribs snapped too. Managed to guard the vitals at the last second—no organ damage. That strike… damn, it came out of nowhere."
Watching Kisame speak of his injuries so casually, Itachi merely gave him a cool glance before looking away and saying calmly, "Since you're hurt, let's leave. There may still be Konoha ninjas nearby."
With that, the Shadow Clone at his side vanished in a puff of white smoke. Itachi turned in silence and started walking.
"Itachi-san."
Kisame said, catching up with a grin, "I have to say, your little brother's every bit the monster you are."
He didn't question Itachi's judgment, he only recalled that earth-shattering kick, battle-lust flashing in his eyes.
"Looking forward to our next meeting, little brother…"
At the last instant, he'd barely shielded himself with his arm, trading it for a fractured right arm. He knew that if he hadn't, the price of taking that kick head-on would've been far worse, likely losing the ability to fight at all.
Right now, instead of anger at the ambush, an indescribable excitement surged in his chest. He hungered to face that boy again, fight fair and square, then pay him back double.
Itachi, however, had no interest in indulging Kisame's appetite for battle. He was privately startled by Mamoru's display of strength.
A dōjutsu able to forcibly break Tsukuyomi. Judging by the aftermath, it seemed to demand an enormous Chakra cost or some other sacrifice.
Unfazed by the Shadow Clone's ambush—he'd sensed it early, possessing a field of vision rivaling the Byakugan.
An invisible barrier for defense, likely a Space-Time jutsu.
Instant movement faster than Body Flicker, no hand signs, no medium—utterly impossible to guard against.
And that monstrous taijutsu.
All of it apparently sprang from those peculiar blue eyes.
What were they? The Uchiha clan's history held no record of such pupils.
And how had he learned about the Mangekyo Sharingan?
Could it be… he'd met that man too?
Itachi suddenly felt his little brother was wrapped in too many unknowns but none of that mattered right now.
What mattered was that Mamoru had the power to protect himself and even strike back.
His gaze drifted involuntarily toward the horizon, toward Konoha, carrying a trace of quiet concern.
Sasuke… how are you now?
—
Mamoru had no idea that in mere moments, Itachi had already analyzed his abilities almost perfectly.
Had he known, he would have snorted in annoyance: "Big deal, so you've got a good brain."
Once he was out of Itachi's sight, Mamoru dropped to a sprint, legs flying, not daring to stop for an instant as he carried Hinata full-tilt toward Nagakawa City.
While he ran for his life, he used the Six Eyes to track distant Chakra signatures. The two were heading the opposite way, showing no intention of entering Nagakawa.
The discovery surprised him, but he quickly understood. They wanted to avoid needless conflict with any Konoha Jonin. After all, meeting Konoha Genin here meant a Jonin instructor was probably close.
As the outline of Nagakawa City sharpened, Mamoru judged the danger past and the pale-blue luster in his eyes faded back to ordinary black. He eased his pace, reined in his focus, and let out a long-held breath.
Lowering his head to the quiet girl in his arms, he said, "Hinata, we're safe now, let me put you down—"
Halfway through, the sight before him made him freeze mid-stride.
Hinata's eyes had spun into dizzy spirals, her face flushed an unnatural crimson, mind clearly adrift.
Mamoru's first thought: blood-rush to the head?
He dismissed it at once.
Maybe, he guessed, she couldn't handle the instant movement of Limitless and was carsick?
"Let's just get back first." He muttered.
Hinata weighed almost nothing, feather-light compared with the last boy he'd carried—like holding a soft pillow.
He shook his head to scatter the sudden strange thoughts.
With a wry tug at his lips, he steadied her and walked on toward Nagakawa.
...
After returning to Nagakawa City, Mamoru noticed something off in the way passers-by glanced at him.
Only then did it dawn on him that the odd looks came from the girl he was carrying in his arms.
No wonder it felt strange, strutting through the streets like this was bound to attract attention.
He thanked his luck that he looked like a teenager. Otherwise, someone would have already flagged him as a kidnapper.
Nagakawa City now felt like a completely different place from when they'd first arrived. In just a few days, the once-dead streets bustled with life, recovering some of their former vigor.
Shops along the road had their doors wide open, customers streamed in and out, and hawkers shouted their wares, weaving a lively tapestry of city life.
Ignoring the stares, Mamoru walked straight ahead without looking sideways.
As he passed an alley entrance, he caught sight of a vending machine tucked inside. He paused, turned, and carried Hinata into the alley. It was wide enough. Opposite the machine stood a wooden bench where two young men sat chatting and laughing.
His entrance shattered the calm. The pair stopped talking, stared in surprise, then broke into whispers punctuated by muffled snickers.
Mamoru ignored them and walked up to the machine. Behind the glass, colorful drinks lined the rows. He glanced at the unconscious girl in his arms, then back at the display, momentarily stumped.
A moment later, he spotted something else. Beside another hard bench stood a metal-mesh wastebasket.
He carried Hinata over and laid her gently along the bench. Once she was settled, he returned to the vending machine, narrowed his eyes, and shot the two youths a cold glare: Never seen your dad before?
He fished in his pocket, pulled out a few coins, and fed them one by one into the slot.
Clink-clank!
The coins dropped, red lights flaring across the buttons. He studied the drinks and pressed several different selections.
While he waited, he cursed the skewed tech tree of this world, then heard a clunk as one can rolled into the tray.
He opened the flap and saw that only one can sat inside. Where's the other?
He picked it up, peered into the machine, and groaned, "Just my luck."
The second can, a soda, was wedged between the metal frame and the glass. He rapped the glass twice but the can didn't budge.
"Heh-heh…"
Unrestrained laughter burst out behind him.
"Hey kid, machine ate your drink? Tough break—hahaha!"
"First time I've seen one stuck that perfectly. Hilarious."
The two doubled over as if it were the funniest thing ever, looking every bit the idiots they were.
"Tch!"
A vein throbbed in Mamoru's temple, and his knuckles itched. Without a word, he smashed his fist into the machine.
Bang!
The impact sent the whole contraption lurching, coughing up not only his soda but a cascade of cans that clattered across the ground.
He picked up only his can, ignored the mess, and walked back to Hinata.
A fist-sized dent glared from the machine's metal panel.
The two youths gasped, exchanged glances, gulped, and scurried away.