"There are, there are—quite a few."
Kiyohara said.
Iwagakure ninjas were basically the ultimate rush ninjas. No need for finesse, just throw bodies at the problem. The classic example: sending ten thousand shinobi to fight the Third Raikage.
Kiyohara couldn't even picture that scene. A whole valley jam-packed with ninja, all sprinting through mountains chasing one man—was there even enough room?
"There are enemies here," Kakashi nodded, backing Kiyohara up.
As they spoke, they kept their voices low and turned their backs to the Iwa-nin, so they wouldn't be overheard or lip-read.
"Looks like Kiyohara and Kakashi were the fastest to notice. The others were a bit slower," Minato thought, nodding.
Conveniently, Kakashi led one squad and Kiyohara the other—each side had someone with recon ability.
"Our paths won't overlap for long. From here on, you'll handle your own trouble," Minato said, deliberately putting pressure on them.
With him present, even if they slipped up, Flying Thunder God would let him intervene instantly.
"Yes," Kakashi answered quietly.
He tried to edge closer to the danger zone, but as soon as he moved, shuriken whistled out of the distant brush.
Bang, bang, bang!
Kakashi drew his short blade in a blur, knocking all three shuriken out of the air.
"They've already spotted us," he said, a little annoyed at the lost opening. Looked like they'd have to go in hard.
"Heh, my turn!" Obito flashed through hand seals and shouted:
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu!"
Whoom—
A tiny fireball popped out of his mouth.
"Cough, cough…"
He'd gotten nervous and botched the output.
"Konoha's ninja have found us. We'll have to fight to the death," the middle-aged Iwa chūnin muttered, frowning.
He'd recognized Minato as their leader and originally planned to lie in ambush until Minato left, then try to pick off stragglers. But seeing the group quietly whispering, thirty-plus years of combat experience told him they'd been made.
He tried to strike first and catch them off guard—and failed to hit a single one.
"Captain!" a younger Iwa-nin called, tossing two more shuriken.
Just as Kakashi was about to repeat his earlier move and knock them away with his blade, Kiyohara moved.
He rapidly formed three hand seals—Dog–Horse–Bird—in about a second and a half. Then he yanked two metallic shuriken from his pouch and flooded them with Wind Release chakra.
Whoosh, whoosh!
The wind-infused shuriken flew faster and cut sharper than any normal throw.
Thanks to fusing part of Rogue Kiyohara's talent, his control over Wind chakra had taken a huge leap—this kind of maneuver would have been impossible for him before.
Bang! Bang!
The wind-charged shuriken clipped the incoming ones aside—then exploded into twin blossoms of flame. The blast gust sent leaves whipping backward and grass bending in waves.
At that range, the young Iwa-nin was shredded—blood, meat, and the smell of burnt flesh.
"What just happened?" Genma hadn't tracked it clearly.
Kakashi was puzzled too—but a heartbeat later he understood.
Exploding Tags.
The enemy had wrapped tags around the shuriken handles; if he'd hit them with his blade, they would've detonated right in his face.
He couldn't help glancing at Kiyohara.
Without him, Kakashi would've taken a nasty hit.
"Thanks, future me," Kiyohara said inwardly.
He hadn't actually noticed the tags himself. But he had Rogue Kiyohara floating beside him, visible only to him. The rogue had spotted the trick and whispered it in his ear.
"Nice," Minato nodded slightly.
He'd almost stepped in himself; Kiyohara beat him to it. In the shinobi world, it's all about hand speed. The faster your seals, the faster your jutsu.
"Daikō!" the middle-aged Iwa-nin shouted the dead youngster's name—but Daikō's brains were already out; there was no saving him.
Kiyohara pulled a kunai and moved in to clean up. The blast hadn't just killed one—it rattled the other three as well. With a wounded chūnin in front of him, this was basically a free pick.
More importantly, whoever brought an enemy down usually had first claim on their gear. And with that pile of loans on his back, Kiyohara's kunai practically swung itself.
Sorry, gentlemen.
Please convert yourselves into my beautiful, shiny silver.
Clang!
The Iwa chūnin drew a tachi and caught Kiyohara's kunai, sparks spraying. His technique was polished; he'd planned to flick the kunai away—if not for his arm having been cooked by the blast, leaving him unable to fully exert his skill.
Kiyohara kept pressing.
Kakashi, meanwhile, peeled off to duel another Iwa-nin.
"Ninja Art: Senbon Rain!"
Genma puffed his cheeks and spat out the senbon from his mouth, then formed hand seals. The needles split into a storm of afterimages and stabbed toward the last enemy.
Rin and Kurenai—like true support—watched the battlefield, ready to assist.
Obito carefully kept his mouth shut; channeling Fire chakra into his throat for Great Fireball had gone wrong earlier, and now it burned. It felt like he'd grown a mouth ulcer in his windpipe.
"Damn it… two exploding tags hit too hard," the Iwa captain thought bitterly.
"I've trained my swordsmanship for twenty years—how can I lose to you?!"
He roared and pushed for a final gamble.
Schlick.
Kiyohara's kunai sank into his abdomen. A twist to the right, and his insides turned to mush.
Thud.
The middle-aged Iwa-nin collapsed with a look of bitter reluctance.
"Thought being middle-aged meant you couldn't be bullied?" Kiyohara muttered.
Aside from the one who got blown up, this guy had taken the worst of it. Sometimes anger is just that—anger. Like a math problem: no matter how mad you get, you still just end up staring at it.
Right then, Kakashi finished his own fight, leaving one enemy alive for interrogation.
"Nicely done," Minato praised them all.
Apart from Obito's nerves, everyone had performed well.
"Kiyohara, no need to loot that fast," Minato said, watching him dig into the corpse's gear with a wry smile.
"Got it," Kiyohara replied, slowing his hands.
But looting still had to be done.
Ninja gear is all out-of-pocket, after all.