"Stand back!" Mumei's command was a whip-crack, shattering the tense standoff. "This is not your fight. He is a real chunin. Guard the perimeter. Do not let him escape"
The monk, Toryu, gave a weary, almost grateful nod. This was the respect of one soldier to another—a final, clean duel.
"Your name?", Toryu asked
Mumei nodded: "Mumei"
Mumei shed his cloak in one smooth motion. The rain fell off his standard-issue flak jacket. His hands moved.
"Suiton (Water Release): Water Arrow Barrage!"
A dozen needles of pressurized water, sharper than senbon, shot from the falling rain itself, streaking towards the monk. Not a killing move, but a test, a opener to gauge speed and deflection.
Toryu moved his staff with an agility that was unexpected from his body. He started to rotate his staff, his chakra flaring. The water needles struck were simply deflected by the massive force of the rotating Jotaki staff, a foot from his body, hissing as they were deflected.
"You are a drop against a tide, Mumei of the Dark Hall," Toryu intoned, but his eyes were watchful, "I shall purify you"
Mumei didn't answer. He was already moving, a blur through the downpour. He vanished from his position, using the mist as cover. He took out a scroll, and from there, a large Fuma shuriken appeared in a cloud of smoke.
"Shurikenjutsu: Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
Since regular suiton jutsu failed to break the monk's defense, he used a technique of misdirection.
A single large Fūma shuriken flew from the mist, but as it spun, it seemed to multiply in the grey light, becoming two, then three, whistling from different angles. Hidden among them were real kunai, their handles wrapped in explosive tags.
Toryu's staff whirled, a circle of polished wood and chakra. He batted aside the physical projectiles with surprising grace for an old man. The explosions bloomed, scratching his black robes, inflicting mild damage. However, Mumei knew it. There was no real hit.
Mumei used the distraction. He erupted from a puddle at Toryu's feet, his form low.
"Ame Senbon!" (Rain Senbon)
A genin-level technique, but in Mumei's hands, it was art. He flung a fan of ordinary senbon upward, but as they flew, he channeled a pulse of chakra. Each senbon gathered a mantle of rainwater around itself, turning into glistening, foot-long spikes of liquid steel. They hammered against Toryu's staff in a erratic rhythm, forcing him back a step, his concentration wavering.
Now came the taijutsu.
Mumei closed the gap. His style was not the elegant, deadly dance of the Takeda, nor the brute force of Iwa. It was the Ame Corps standard—practical, brutal, and efficient. It incorporated joint locks, dirty strikes, and constant, grinding pressure designed for the slick terrain. His body was trained, his mind focused.
Mumei was not very strong in terms of attributes. His civilian lineage made him lack talent. However, he was already in his forties, in a profession where people died young. He had experience, an arsenal of tricks that kept him alive until now.
He feinted a kick at Toryu's knee, then dropped, sweeping the leg.
Toryu leapt, but Mumei was already rising, an elbow aimed for the floating rib.
The monk twisted, taking the blow on his forearm with a grunt. Mumei pressed, a rapid flurry of jabs and palm strikes, each one seeking a nerve cluster or a break in the old man's guard.
Toryu was forced purely on the defensive, his staff a hindrance at this range. Mumei was inside his reach, a storm of relentless, wet leather and hardened knuckles.
"You see?", Mumei grunted between strikes, "Your truth dies with you. It changes nothing."
"It… already breathes…" Toryu gasped, parrying a knife-hand strike.
Mumei saw his opening. As Toryu committed to a block, Mumei's hands flew through a sequence of seals—Ram → Snake → Tiger → Dog → Rat.
"Suiton: Water Prison Technique!"
A B-rank sphere of water, drawn from the rain-sodden earth and the very air, erupted around the monk, sealing him inside. It was a perfect, shimmering globe. Mumei's hand was thrust into it, maintaining the prison. His face was set in grim triumph.
"It's over. Your lungs will fill. It will be quick."
Inside the sphere, Toryu struggled, bubbles escaping his lips. His purification chakra fought against the water, trying to destabilize it, but Mumei's control was solid, born of a thousand rainy drills.
Then Toryu's eyes opened. They held not panic, but a sad, final resolve.
His hands, trapped though they were, managed a single, clumsy seal—Tiger.
A pulse of red chakra, hot and violent, bloomed from his core.
"Katon: Phoenix Fire Technique!"
It was a weak, basic D-rank Fire Release, laughable in the heart of the Land of Rain. But he wasn't aiming for Mumei. He was aiming at the water surrounding him. And the chakra quantity, it was the monk's last attempt at freedom.
The moment the tiny fireballs met the chakra-saturated water of the prison, the reaction was catastrophic. Not an explosion, but a violent, instantaneous conversion to scalding, pressurized steam.
BOOOM-SSSHHHHH!
The prison detonated outward in a blistering cloud.
Mumei screamed—a short, choked sound of agony. His hands and forearm, immersed in the prison, took the full force of the superheated steam. The skin blistered and reddened instantly. The shock broke his focus and sent him stumbling back, clutching his ruined hands to his chest.
Toryu collapsed from the released steam, coughing violently, his robes singed, his own skin burnt from the inside out by his desperate, chakra-scorching move. He was on his knees, defenseless, gasping for air in the clearing mist.
"Now… finish it…" he rasped, looking past Mumei at the genins. "Let the truth… live…"
Mumei was on his knees, teeth gritted against the pain, trying to form a seal with his damaged hands to summon water to cool the burns. He was out of the fight.
"Ryugo!" Ameruyi shouted, drawing her sword, about to charge
"Yes" Ryugo said, his voice icy calm. His Raikōgan wasn't activated—this didn't need it. He saw the electrical potential of the scene: the exhausted, kneeling monk, the conductive wet ground.
He drew a single kunai. Not a fancy Lightning Snake. Just a plain, weighted blade. He channeled the simplest, most direct pulse of Raiton chakra he could into it. A spark, not a storm.
"Raiton: Lightning Snake Kunai (D)"
He didn't throw it at the monk's heart or head. He threw it at the puddle forming between Toryu's knees.
The kunai struck the water with a sharp crack. The lightning chakra discharged, racing through the conductive pool.
Toryu's body seized. A full-body convulsion, back arching, a final, silent exhalation.
Then he knelt, his robes dirtied by the mud below, a thin wisp of smoke rising from his chest.
Ryugo approached and took out the Storm-Sever Katana [B].
[Combat Concluded. EXP Gained: 150. Target Eliminated: Jōtaki Toryu (Lv. 45). Lightning Snake Kunai Proficiency +3, Amegakure Swordsmanship Proficiency +2]
Silence, save for the rain and Mumei's pained breathing.
Ryugo walked forward, first to the monk's body. He carefully retrieved the still-sealed scroll case from the robe, tucking it into his own pack. Then he went to Mumei.
His sensei looked up, face pale, sweat and rain mixing on his brow. His hands were a brutal sight.
"The scroll…" Mumei managed
"Secured," Ryugo said, his tone leaving no room for debate, "For the Hall's evaluation, as discussed"
Mumei held his gaze for a long moment, then gave a faint, pained nod. He had no strength left to argue. Behind, Ameruyi was already disposing of the evidence. The Jotaki crest, then the burning of the mill, and whatever evidence the monk might have left behind.
Ryugo knelt. He took out his field medical kit—basic ointment and bandages. He didn't have the skill to heal the burns, but he could protect them.
He worked quickly, efficiently, applying the salve and wrapping the linen strips with a practiced ease that surprised even Ameruyi.
"That kunai throw…", Mumei said through clenched teeth as Ryugo worked, "Precise. Not a wasted speck of chakra. I am impressed"
"He was already defeated," Ryugo said simply, "You defeated him. I just…finished him"
The ghost of a smile touched Mumei's lips. "A clean kill. No fanfare. Thank you, Ryugo."
The gratitude was raw, honest. It wasn't just for saving his life in that moment, but for choosing the path that let Mumei keep his honor, and the village its fragile peace. If the truth was out, the Daimyo of the lands of Rain might have sparked a dangerous change in Ame. It far exceeded the scope a simple genin cell of the Dark Hall Tower or a magistrate. In that sense, Ryugo followed the Dark Hall Tower protocols to the letter, and left the responsibility to the council.
As Ryugo finished the bandaging, a new notification burned in his vision.
[Path of the Loyal Blade: COMPLETE.]
[Return to the Dark Hall Tower to claim your rewards]
He looked at his team. Ameruyi was sheathing her sword, her eyes perplexed as she looked from the dead monk to the scroll in Ryugo's pack. Tetsu was staring at the body, his mask hiding his thoughts.
The mission was over. The sickness would be declared the work of a rogue, poisoned monk. The magistrate would have his villain. The Council would be satisfied.
He helped Mumei to his feet. "Let's go home, sensei."