The leader of the Takigakure shinobi could only watch in horror as his last remaining teammate turned and ran, tripping over his own feet in desperation.
"Shit! I told you not to ss with this monster!" the fleeing shinobi cursed, his breath ragged as he tore through the underbrush. His heart pounded violently in his chest. His teammate had been cut down before his eyes—not with so flashy jutsu, but with a simple swing of a blade.
No hand seals. No chants. No warning.
The thought alone sent chills down his spine. He didn't need to stay and fight. He needed to get out of here.
But before he could even hope to escape, a lazy voice rang behind him.
"Want to run?"
Youyu's tone was bored, as if the idea of letting him go was a personal insult. His grip on his sword tightened slightly. If you're going to pick a fight, at least have the decency to stick around and get cut properly.
He sighed.
"Fine. Let's see who's faster—your legs or my slash."
With that, his sword left its sheath.
A sharp ring filled the air.
The mont the blade was unsheathed, the fleeing shinobi felt paralyzed. His body, his legs—nothing moved. It was as if the very act of drawing that sword had locked him in place.
His eyes widened in terror.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't move.
And then he saw it.
A glowing slash, deep purple-black in color, tore through the air like a beast unleashed. It roared toward him, splitting through trees, dirt, and even the air itself. The very pressure of the technique sent a powerful gust through the forest, kicking up leaves and snapping branches.
He was dead.
He barely had ti to scream before the slash cut straight through his body.
Blood sprayed, severed limbs flew, and his lifeless remains crashed into the dirt.
Youyu exhaled, sheathing his sword with a satisfied smirk.
Back in the observation room, the assembled jōnin from various villages watched the scene unfold in stunned silence.
A shinobi from Agakure finally swallowed hard. "That was... a flying slash."
Murmurs spread throughout the room. A ranged sword attack. That was sothing only a handful of sword masters in history had ever demonstrated. It was not sothing a kid should be doing.
The shinobi from Agakure shook slightly. His village still carried the scars from the Second Shinobi War, where they had been crushed between the warring great nations. He had seen devastation up close, and there was one na forever burned into his mory.
Konoha's White Fang.
This wasn't just another strong Konoha shinobi. This was sothing much worse.
The realization that another White Fang-level swordsman might be erging sent a deep unease through the room.
Jiraiya, however, just chuckled. "Not bad, not bad. No wonder the old man's been keeping an eye on him."
He had investigated Youyu before.
No official training. No famous ntor. No secret clan techniques.
Nothing.
Everything this brat had accomplished, he had done on his own.
Jiraiya's lips curled into a small smirk. A pure prodigy, huh?
anwhile, Fuguki Suikazan, the forr wielder of Sahada, gritted his teeth. "Konoha's bastards really hid this one well." His mood soured as he compared Youyu's strength to his own subordinate, Kisa.
That brat better not embarrass .
Back in the Forest of Death, Youyu humd to himself, stretching his arms as he stepped over the piles of severed limbs.
A familiar ringing echoed in his head.
Ding! After drinking, you have killed one Takigakure shinobi.
10 to Physique
10 to Chakra
Ding! After drinking, you have killed one Takigakure shinobi.
15 to Kendo comprehension
And then, a final notification.
Ding! Congratulations on your first kill after drinking!
Reward: Three-Color Haki Unlocked!
Youyu paused.
"Three-Color Haki?"
He scratched his chin, suddenly feeling a bit more sober.
The power of Haki wasn't sothing he had considered before, but as the information filled his mind, his smirk widened.
Armant Haki. A defensive and offensive enhancent that allowed him to coat his body—or his sword—in an indestructible force. It could even counter ninjutsu when mastered.
Observation Haki. A form of awareness that allowed him to sense enemies beyond his vision, predict attacks, and—if mastered—even see into the future.
Conqueror's Haki. A power possessed only by those with the spirit of a king. The weak would collapse simply by being in his presence. If trained, it could cause physical destruction to the environnt around him.
Youyu grinned.
"Yeah... this is good stuff."
He clenched his fist experintally. The power felt new, but at the sa ti, it fit him perfectly.
He thought back to his fight with Obito earlier. The brat had given him nowhere near this kind of reward.
Youyu scoffed. What a disappointnt.
But these guys? This was much better.
At that mont, a nervous whimper ca from nearby.
Turning his head, Youyu finally rembered sothing.
"Oh yeah... I forgot about you."
A few feet away, the last surviving Taki-nin, their leader, was shaking so violently it was a miracle he was still standing.
His eyes were wide with terror. His hands clutched at his own throat, trying to keep himself from screaming in fear. He had hoped—prayed—that Youyu would just move on and forget about him.
Now, under Youyu's gaze, he felt his body go numb.
"You don't have to kill !" the shinobi begged, his voice breaking. "I'll give you my scroll! I'll—"
A thin red line appeared across his throat.
His mouth opened and closed as if trying to say sothing, but no words ca.
Then, his head fell to the ground.
Youyu exhaled, sliding his sword back into its sheath. "I don't need your damn scrolls."
His goal was simple.
He wasn't here for the exam.
He was here to cut people down.
Ding! After drinking, you have killed one Takigakure shinobi.
10 to Physique!
10 to Armant Haki!
Youyu's eyes glead.
So killing people boosted Haki too?
Observation and Conqueror's Haki still needed to be developed, but this was way easier than training.
Practice? What a joke.
Why waste ti training when he could just cut people down and get stronger?
Humming to himself, Youyu casually stepped over the bodies and strolled deeper into the Forest of Death.
Back in the observation room, silence filled the air.
The screen still displayed the carnage Youyu had left behind—severed limbs, pools of blood, a battlefield left in absolute ruin.
No techniques. No ninjutsu.
Just pure, overwhelming, blood-soaked swordsmanship.
Even the most battle-hardened jōnin in the room had nothing to say.
Fuguki Suikazan clenched his jaw. "Kisa... better not let down."
Jiraiya, anwhile, took a sip of sake, grinning. "Not bad, brat. Not bad at all."
Word Count: 1,215
Author Notes:
Taki-nin: "I'll just run away—"
Youyu: "Let's see if my slash is faster than
Do give so support people I'm doing this for you guys no money or any other reason just to give so people so joy so do please point out the mistakes I made so it can be better for you guys to enjoy and lem eat them power stones but more than anything I'll enjoy a good review more
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