The dust cloud swallowed Qianyu and the Yugakure leader whole, veiling the outcome from everyone else.
Every observer on the field wished, desperately, for the Byakugan—anything to pierce the veil and see who had fallen first.
The Konoha shinobi held their breath for Qianyu.
After all, he'd fought the Yuga leader to a standstill. Never seemed to falter. Even drew blood.
The Cloud and Yuga ninja, however, bet on their own.
They'd watched. Sure, the kid seemed even. Landed a few good hits. Fought smart.
But every time, the old Yuga leader's experience shone through. He parried. He adapted. He weathered the storm.
More importantly, they could all see it now: Qianyu's chakra was running on fumes.
His skill screamed elite jōnin. His reserves? Tokubetsu jōnin at best. Maybe less.
He'd burn out. They were sure of it. This final assault would be the last. The Yuga leader would deflect it, and then the kid would be done. A fish on the chopping block.
A sliver of doubt wormed in. What if… what if the leader couldn't stop it?
Then, a gust of wind.
It swept the dust away, revealing the scene.
Qianyu knelt on one knee, chest heaving, gasping for air like a landed fish.
Not far off, the Yugakure leader lay sprawled on the ground. A pathetic sight. His clothes were scorched and torn, peppered with holes from searing lightning.
The Yuga and Cloud ninjas' hearts dropped. He lost?!
But something was off. Weird. The leader bore no sword slashes. No tell-tale lightning burns. His wounds… they looked like they came from wind. From a Wind Style technique. But Qianyu's attack was pure Thunder Breathing Taijutsu. It made no sense.
Minato Namikaze's eyes widened. He pieced it together instantly.
Qianyu's final strike… had missed.
Why? How could something that fast, that powerful, miss?
The answer was the leader's last Vacuum Great Ball.
He'd fired many. Qianyu dodged them all.
Knowing he couldn't block, couldn't dodge conventionally, the leader aimed his final blast not at the boy, but at the ground beneath his own feet.
The resulting shockwave of wind hurled his body backward—a desperate, violent evasion.
It hurt him, yes. But it was better than losing his head.
Grunting, the Yuga leader pushed himself up. Coughed. A thick spray of blood hit the dirt. He glared at the kneeling boy, his voice a ragged scrape. "Can't… stand up anymore, can you?"
Qianyu hacked out a few dry coughs.
The man was right. Every muscle fiber screamed in protest, feeling shredded, torn. Just staying upright was agony.
Thanks to the system's simulations, he'd learned the ultimate Seventh Form: Honoikazuchi no Kami.
But knowing and mastering were different. In training, he'd failed more than succeeded.
Now, in the heat of battle, he'd finally grasped it. Perfected it. But the cost… His near-empty chakra reserves couldn't support it. His body was paying the price.
Qianyu looked at the battered leader, a flicker of respect in his tired eyes. "A village leader, huh… Your experience is no joke. And that call? Brutal. Choosing mutual destruction just to avoid my blade."
The leader's mouth twitched in a painful half-smile. "Isn't that what shinobi do? Backed into a corner… you gamble. I gambled. I won." He paused, curiosity cutting through the pain. "One thing, though. Your draw cut… the reach seemed short. Was that a mistake?"
Using his sword as a crutch, Qianyu forced himself to stand. His entire body trembled violently. The agony of torn muscles painted his face a sickly white.
He answered, voice weak but blunt. "In our plan… anyone in Yugakure can die. Except you."
The leader blinked, more confused than before. "Except me? Why…?" He sighed, the sound heavy with finality. "Forget it. Don't want to know. This… this really is the end. Part of me… doesn't want to kill you. You're too good. With time, you'd become a monster in this world. A real power."
His expression hardened, resolve settling like stone. "But you killed my people. My shinobi. As their leader… I have a duty. I must avenge them."
Qianyu let out a weak, derisive snort. "Save the noble speech for the grave. We're enemies. Those words just insult us both." A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "And… who said you won?"
The Yuga leader frowned. Now? He could still talk like that? The boy could barely stand!
Enough.
He drew a kunai. Time to finish this.
Minato saw the movement. His body tensed, ready to flash forward, to intercept.
He stopped.
Images flashed: Daigo's death. Qianyu's cold words: 'If I die, it's because I wasn't good enough. Don't trouble yourself.'
A war raged inside him.
He didn't want to save Qianyu. The boy was right. Minato disliked him. Hated him, even. Especially after the thing with Daigo and the explosive tags.
But the part of him that dreamed of being Hokage… it screamed that this inaction was wrong. A failure.
The Yuga leader's arm snapped forward. The kunai shot through the air, a silver streak aimed at Qianyu's head.
Watching its flight, Minato moved.
He'd been wrong. Whatever Qianyu's crimes, whatever their differences… right now, the boy was fighting for Konoha. Letting him die… it would betray everything Minato believed in.
He pushed his speed to the limit, a yellow blur.
Too far. He was still too far away.
He wouldn't make it.
Suddenly, he skidded to a halt again. His brow furrowed, eyes locked on the flying kunai.
Something was off. Its trajectory… was it… veering?
The kunai thunked into the dirt, a hand's breadth from where Qianyu stood.
But in the Yuga leader's eyes, his throw was perfect. A direct line for the boy's skull.
Yet…
The moment the blade should have struck home, Qianyu's figure… wavered. Flickered like a mirage. Then vanished. Reappeared a few feet to the side.
The Yuga leader's eyes bulged. The word tore from his throat, raw with disbelief.
"Genjutsu?!"