Hanekawa broke the surface of the water, gasping for air.
A week of searching. A week of swimming through enemy territory, mapping supply routes, catching glimpses of Mei Terumi in the distance. A week with nothing concrete to show for it.
He sank back beneath the waves, closing his eyes to activate his mind's eye. The sensory technique let him navigate the treacherous waters around the Hidden Mist's perimeter—waters deliberately seeded with traps designed to catch unwary shinobi. Most he could detect and avoid. The rest? He'd have to run.
Ten minutes later, he surfaced a kilometer offshore. Any closer and the Mist's sensory network would ping him like a sonar blip.
Hanekawa activated his eight-fold scope and froze.
No way.
The man standing on the island's cliff was unmistakable—even from this distance. Watermelon Mountain Pufferfish Ghost. Orange hair like a beacon, built like a sumo wrestler. The distinctive silhouette was practically a calling card.
Finally.
A moment later, another figure caught his attention. Long spiky yellow hair, ANBU mask, white bandages wrapped around the neck. Kuriarare Kushimaru. Another of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen.
Two elite members of the Mist's most dangerous unit, stationed at the same location. This had to be it.
Hanekawa sank to the seafloor and swam toward shore, moving with deliberate speed. No time for caution now. If the Mist relocated their headquarters again, they'd lose weeks of progress.
---
Tsunade stood at the water's edge, eyes fixed on the horizon.
She'd been waiting for Hanekawa's signal flare. If he got spotted, he'd send one—a bright burst of chakra that would cut through the mist like a knife. Even if he was pinned down, even if he was fighting for his life, he had enough power to manage that much.
If he couldn't... well, the slugs would sense the battle. The chakra explosion would be impossible to miss. It would just take time.
She felt the slug on her shoulder shift slightly. Good. It was ready to relay the message back to camp.
"How can this kid run so fast?"
Hanekawa materialized in front of her, breathing hard but controlled. She felt a flutter of relief.
"Teacher," he said between breaths. "That island. It's the Hidden Mist headquarters."
Tsunade's eyes lit up. "Excellent work."
No hesitation. No questions. She turned to the slug on her shoulder immediately.
The creature vanished in a puff of smoke, carrying her orders back to the camp. They'd finally found the Mist's nest. Letting them slip away again wasn't an option.
"Stay here," Tsunade said, already moving. "I'm getting reinforcements."
She disappeared in a burst of speed.
---
An hour later, the sky darkened with incoming shinobi.
Hanekawa counted them as they landed: special jonin, jonin, elite chunin. Might Duy was there, along with Maki and a dozen others. Konoha's finest, assembled and ready.
Tsunade emerged from the group, her expression all business. "Situation?"
"No movement. No evacuation attempts," Hanekawa reported. "They have no idea we're here."
"Good." Tsunade turned to address the assembled shinobi, her voice dropping into that dangerous register that made even experienced jonin straighten up. "Our primary objective is the Seven Ninja Swordsmen. None of them leave this island alive. Understood?"
"Yes!" The response was immediate and unified.
"We move in groups of two, approaching from different vectors. Hanekawa and I will take the north approach. Form your own pairs and choose your routes."
The shinobi exchanged quick glances, then paired off without argument. Rank had its privileges, and nobody was going to question Tsunade's judgment.
"Move out!"
They became streaks of motion, racing across the water toward the island.
---
The attack came like a thunderclap.
Watermelon Mountain Pufferfish Ghost was in the command tent when the screams started. He rushed outside, already reaching for Samehada, and his blood went cold.
Konoha shinobi. Hidden Sand shinobi. Everywhere.
"Enemy attack!" he roared, drawing his legendary blade.
Then he saw her.
Tsunade stood at the center of the chaos, and even from a distance, her presence was suffocating. The Princess of the Sannin. The woman who'd walked away from The Hidden Leaf years ago.
"Princess Tsunade," he said, forcing his voice steady. "An honor."
He gripped Samehada's hilt and charged.
Tsunade didn't bother with words. She threw a punch.
The collision sent Pufferfish Ghost sliding backward, his feet carving furrows in the earth. Samehada absorbed some of the impact, but not all of it. The main tent behind him exploded into splinters.
"As expected of the Princess!" he snarled, advancing again.
Tsunade's frown deepened. She'd felt her chakra drain slightly on contact with Samehada. The sword was doing its job—feeding off her power. She'd need to be careful.
---
Nearby, Might Duy's roar cut through the battle noise.
"Eight Gates Open!"
Green chakra erupted from his body like a second skin. His speed tripled. His strength doubled. The Mist ninja facing him—Tongcao Yebai, wielder of the blunt sword Dowari—barely had time to register the change before a kick came at him like a meteor.
"Konoha's Powerful Whirlwind!"
The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the island. Hanekawa, fighting nearby, had to step back to avoid the blast.
A cluster of shuriken came at him from his left. He drew the Thunderfire Sword and swatted them away without breaking stride.
The Mist ninja who'd thrown them didn't hesitate. He opened his mouth and unleashed a torrent of water.
Leaf Style: Water Severing.
Hanekawa sidestepped, letting the stream pass harmlessly. The ninja's eyes widened in surprise—that technique should have at least forced him to defend—but he was already forming new seals.
Hanekawa closed the distance in three quick strides.
The Thunderfire Sword found its mark. The ninja's eyes went wide, then empty. Hanekawa twisted the blade to ensure the kill, then stepped back to avoid the blood spray.
One down. Plenty more to go.
He scanned the battlefield. The jonin were locked in their own fights—one-on-one duels where intervention would only get you killed. The remaining Mist shinobi were scattered, fighting in small clusters against Konoha and Hidden Sand forces.
Then the earth rose up.
A spear of soil erupted from the ground, aimed straight at Hanekawa's chest. He jumped, using the momentum to flip backward, and spotted the earth-style ninja forming seals below.
Dance of the Three Suns and Moons.
Two shadow clones materialized mid-air. All three Hanekawas descended on the ninja simultaneously.
The Mist shinobi panicked. He blocked the first Hanekawa's strike, but the other two were already moving. Their blades found his ribs, his shoulder, his neck. He fell before he could even scream.
Hanekawa dispersed the clones and immediately activated Chidori Style.
Lightning wrapped around him like a second skin, and his speed became something almost inhuman. He became a blur of white and blue, moving through the Mist shinobi like a scythe through wheat. Chunin fell. Genin fell. Anyone below jonin rank who crossed his path didn't get a second chance.
This is what it means to be strong, he thought distantly, watching a chunin's eyes go wide as he realized he was already dead.
Then the fog rolled in.
Not natural mist. This was thick, choking, deliberately conjured. Visibility dropped to arm's length in seconds.
Damn.
Hanekawa's eyes snapped open. The Hyuga could see through this. The jonin couldn't. And the Seven Swordsmen, elite as they were, would use the cover to turn the tide.
He formed seals rapidly.
Wind Style: Gale Palm.
A compressed stream of air erupted from his hands, violent and precise. The fog scattered, revealing glimpses of the island beneath. But it reformed almost immediately, thickening faster than he could disperse it.
They've got a team maintaining it.
Hanekawa closed his eyes and activated his mind's eye.
There. Eight signatures, clustered together on the western side of the island, all focused on the same jutsu. They were so concentrated on their technique that they'd made themselves sitting ducks.
Body of Lightning Style.
Hanekawa vanished.
He reappeared in the center of their formation, and before any of them could react—
Chidori Flow.
Lightning exploded outward in all directions. The eight Mist shinobi screamed as the electricity tore through them. They'd been so focused on their seals that they had no defense, no escape.
Dance of the Three Suns and Moons.
Three Hanekawas drew their swords in perfect synchronization. Blood painted the ground. The fog began to dissipate.
"Asshole!"
A jonin-level Mist shinobi spotted him and charged, fury blazing in his eyes. He opened his mouth and unleashed a massive sphere of water.
Hanekawa dispersed his clones and used Body Flicker to slip past the attack. The water ball crashed into the ground behind him, sending up a spray.
Wind Style: Air Currents Dancing.
Two streams of wind erupted from his palms, spreading outward in a controlled pattern. The remaining fog scattered like smoke, revealing the full battlefield.
The Konoha and Hidden Sand jonin breathed visible sighs of relief. The fog had been suffocating them, limiting their vision, turning their advantages into liabilities. Now they could see again.
Tsunade glanced at Hanekawa and nodded once before returning to her fight with Pufferfish Ghost.
The Mist jonin's face twisted with rage. "You want to die!"
He drew a short blade and slashed at Hanekawa's neck with desperate speed.
The Thunderfire Sword intercepted it. The collision sent a shockwave rippling outward.
The Mist jonin's eyes widened. The force was incredible—far beyond what a kid should be capable of. He released the blade and used Body Flicker to create distance, his arm aching from the impact.
What kind of monster is this?
He formed seals rapidly, but Hanekawa was faster.
Genjutsu: Magical Naraku-Seeing Technique.
The jonin's eyes glazed over. His worst fears materialized in his mind—death, failure, the screams of his comrades. His body froze.
It lasted only a second before he broke free through sheer willpower, but a second was all Hanekawa needed.
The Thunderfire Sword found his throat.
The jonin's eyes went wide with confusion as he fell. How was the seal so fast? was his last thought.
Then a scream cut through the noise.
Hanekawa's head snapped toward the sound. A Hidden Sand jonin lay on the ground, his legs severed and scattered. The cuts were precise, surgical—made by something thin and impossibly sharp.
Steel wire.
"Boy, you have good strength."
The voice was calm, almost conversational. Hanekawa turned to see a figure standing over the dead Sand ninja, smiling faintly.
Long spiky yellow hair. ANBU mask. White bandages wrapped around the neck.
Kuriarare Kushimaru.
One of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen. And he was holding a needle—an oversized embroidery needle with a length of steel wire attached to the handle. Blood dripped from the wire.
Hanekawa's expression hardened.
"If I'm not mistaken," Kushimaru said, shaking the needle so the blood flew off, "you're Hanekawa. Tsunade's student."
"I am," Hanekawa replied carefully. "Am I famous?"
"Famous enough." Kushimaru raised the needle, his smile turning predatory. "Killing you would avenge Juuzou and Raiga. That's worth the effort."
He didn't wait for a response.
Kushimaru's feet flashed with chakra, and he vanished. The needle shot forward at terrifying speed, aimed straight at Hanekawa's forehead.
Hanekawa raised the Thunderfire Sword and knocked the needle aside, then slashed downward to cut the wire.
Kushimaru twisted his body, using the momentum to spin away from the blade. His needle came around in a vicious arc, aiming for Hanekawa's abdomen.
Bang.
The Thunderfire Sword intercepted it again.
In the moment of contact, Hanekawa clenched his left fist and drove it forward with all his strength.
The air itself seemed to explode.
Kushimaru's eyes widened. He'd heard the rumors about Tsunade's student, but experiencing that power firsthand was something else entirely. He kicked backward, using the recoil to create distance, and brought his right leg up in a chakra-enhanced kick.
The impact was meant to be devastating.
Instead, Hanekawa's fist met his leg, and Kushimaru felt something crack.
Not broken, he realized as he flew backward, but close. If I'd taken that head-on...
He landed in a crouch, breathing hard. His right leg throbbed with pain. The kid had power that rivaled Tsunade's—raw, devastating strength that turned every exchange into a life-or-death gamble.
Kushimaru's expression shifted. The casual confidence vanished, replaced by cold focus.
This wasn't going to be easy.
---