Chapter 18: Only the Ruthless Survive

"Since you won’t choose, I’ll decide for you—your throat it is!"

A sharp whistle sliced through the mist, impossible to trace. Without sensory abilities, Yukuchi Mitsuta was as good as blind—forced to react on instinct alone.

"Damn it! I won’t go down like this!"

He tightened his grip on his sword. If Yoru got close, he’d sense him. He had to.

"Hiss—!"

A sudden surge of killing intent flared from his left. A shadow flickered—Yukuchi swung without hesitation.

"Squelch!"

His blade cleaved through the figure, but his expression twisted. That wasn’t flesh.

"Wrong. Behind you."

A cold edge erupted from his back, piercing clean through his chest.

But as Yoru tried to withdraw his blade—it stuck.

No time to think. Hands flew into seals—yet still too slow.

"Suiton: Suirō no Jutsu (Water Prison Technique)!"

A swirling vortex engulfed them both. The mist dispersed, and Yoru’s body locked in place.

Yukuchi turned, grinning through bloodied teeth. "The Hidden Mist Technique isn’t invincible, brat. I win."

His sword thrust forward—

"Demonic Illusion: Hell Viewing Technique!"

Yoru’s voice cut through the water. The seal he’d half-formed earlier wasn’t for escape—it was for this.

Yukuchi’s muscles seized. The water prison collapsed.

"How?! No hand signs?!"

Panic flared. The Genjutsu should’ve been breakable—a quick chakra surge always shattered it before. But now?

It held.

And Yoru was already moving, kunai flashing—

"NO—!"

A crimson arc split Yukuchi’s throat. He could only watch, paralyzed, as his life gushed onto the forest floor.

Yoru staggered back, clutching his chest. Blood seeped between his fingers. His vision blurred.

"This… is bad. If this keeps up…"

Death loomed.

Gritting his teeth, he fished out a needle and thread from his pouch.

"Ghh—!"

The first stitch tore a strangled gasp from his throat. Agony, white-hot and searing, lanced through every nerve. His hands trembled violently—but he forced them steady.

Stitch by brutal stitch, he sutured his own flesh.

By the end, he was drenched in sweat, his face corpse-pale. But the bleeding slowed.

"That’ll hold… for two days. Any longer, and infection kills me."

"…He’s insane."

Hawk (Yoya) and White Wolf (Rin) exchanged glances. Sewing your own wound mid-battle? That wasn’t skill—that was madness.

Tenzō watched silently. "His adaptability… is terrifying."

Most shinobi would’ve panicked the moment their blade got trapped. But Yoru? He’d turned the trap against his enemy.

And that pain tolerance…

"A subordinate like this… is as frightening as he is valuable."

"H-he actually killed Yukuchi?!"

Asakura I and Shinyu Suke recoiled. Yukuchi was an A-rank nukenin—a name known across nations. And this kid had butchered him?

"Retreat!"

They bolted.

"Don’t let them escape!" Hawk and White Wolf gave chase, weaving signs—

"Suiton: Suiryūdan (Water Dragon Bullet)!"

A torrential spiral erupted beneath the fugitives’ feet, dragging them down.

"Got you—!"

But the figures dissolved into water. Clones.

"You’ll need more than that to catch us, brats!" The real duo smirked from the treeline.

Too far. Too late.

"Tch—!"

Then—

"Multi-Strike Eagle Flash."

Two silver arcs split the air.

Yoru’s blade slid home with a click.

The fleeing nukenin crumpled, throats opened to the spine.

And Yoru?

He collapsed to his knees, blood frothing on his lips.

Pushing his body this far—sheer idiocy.

"Clean work, Hikari (Cold Light)," Tenzō said, then turned a withering gaze on the others. "Learn from him. Two B-ranks nearly slipped past you. Pathetic."

Hawk and White Wolf stiffened. Gratitude? No. Resentment simmered beneath their masks.

"Collect the heads. We move before Kumo intervenes."

As the team vanished into the mist, one truth echoed unspoken:

In Kirigakure, only the ruthless survived.