At her side stood three young shinobi with purple hair, their Red Eyes fully activated. Those special crimson pupils glowed with an eerie light as they rapidly swept across Konoha's formation.
The long-range vision and penetrating sight of the Red Eye were operating at full capacity.
Previously, Sunagakure had assigned a single Red Eye clansman to Pakura's squad, giving her a decisive edge—allowing her to repeatedly slip past Konoha's large-scale encirclements and Tsunade's pursuit.
But this time, to ensure absolute certainty, the village had assigned her three.
One had to know that the total number of Red Eyes currently available to Sunagakure was barely over ten.
That alone showed just how seriously Sunagakure took the mission of killing Higashino Shinichi.
Higashino Shinichi!
At the thought of that name, Pakura's mind drifted back to over a year ago.
During the Chūnin Exams, he had only been a newcomer—someone who defeated Karura in the finals and left a striking impression.
Back then, she had stood at the sidelines as a proctor, watching that boy use his self-created ninjutsu, the Rasengan, to shatter the Sand Shield and claim the championship of the village-hosted Chūnin Exams.
And now, he was Konoha's youngest Special Jōnin, displaying exceptional talent and brilliance across multiple fields.
Since the outbreak of the war, that kid had already done far too much—disrupting too many of the village's plans. The threat he posed to Sunagakure was no less than that of Jiraiya or Tsunade… and in the future, it might even surpass them both.
Only a year had passed, and he had grown to this extent?
A trace of complicated emotion surfaced in Pakura's heart. She actually quite admired that boy—more than just admiration, even. The first time she saw him, she had inexplicably found him pleasing to the eye.
The feeling was hard to describe, impossible to pin down—but it made her want to look at him again, unconsciously.
Back then, she hadn't understood why she felt that way.
Even now, she still didn't.
What a pity.
Pakura sighed inwardly, then shook her head, casting aside those stray thoughts. Her gaze swept rapidly across the battlefield, passing over every figure, every possible position.
"Pakura-sama! Found him!"
At that moment, a Red Eye clansman named Dōmaru suddenly spoke.
Pakura followed his line of sight—and her eyes locked onto the target.
"Follow me."
The moment the words left her lips, her figure blurred into an afterimage and vanished.
And the instant she disappeared, the elite unit that had been standing by behind her moved as one.
Three hundred men.
Dozens of jōnin, over two hundred chūnin—all elite.
They had only one objective—
Charge straight into Konoha's formation and take Higashino Shinichi's head!
…
The battle was fierce.
Before Kikyō Pass, the sounds of killing cries, screams, and clashing steel blended into a chaotic storm. Blood soaked into the earth, severed limbs lay scattered everywhere, and the smoke of explosive tags intertwined with the surging waves of various ninjutsu.
As part of the medical support unit, Shinichi did not need to directly participate in combat at first. He was positioned at the core of the formation, responsible for receiving the wounded transported from the front lines.
But as the battle dragged on, casualties among Konoha's forces began to surge. The medical-ninjas who had originally remained in the central area also started moving forward, weaving rapidly across the battlefield.
On the battlefield, casualties were generally divided into two types.
Those with lighter injuries received immediate on-site treatment—stanching bleeding, relieving pain, basic bandaging—then got back up to continue fighting.
Those with severe, life-threatening injuries were stabilized by any means necessary and quickly sent to the rear core area for further treatment after the battle.
Shinichi quickly began moving as well. Ten Clones split off from him, spreading out like a cast net and darting across the battlefield.
Ten Clones, plus his original body, moved rapidly through different areas.
Wherever someone fell, he appeared.
Hyūga Hizashi stayed at his side without leaving even a single step. The veins around his eyes bulged as his Byakugan was pushed to its limit, scanning every inch of space with a near 360-degree field of vision.
Any suspicious fluctuation of chakra, any sudden approaching figure—none could escape his perception.
He knew his mission clearly.
Higashino Shinichi must not be harmed.
"Captain Higashino, he's not going to make it…"
A young medical-nin raised his head, his face pale. His name was Yoshida Yoshikage. At that moment, he knelt on the ground, both hands glowing with green chakra as he desperately tried to sustain the last breath of the wounded man beneath him.
Shinichi was treating another casualty three meters away. Upon hearing this, he didn't hesitate for even a moment.
"Yoshikage, I'll take over! You handle this side!"
He pulled away at once and crossed the distance in two steps, arriving beside the wounded man.
The man's abdomen had been pierced by a sharp weapon. Blood mixed with fragments of internal organs poured out, his breathing so faint it seemed ready to stop at any moment.
Ordinary medical ninjutsu wouldn't be fast enough. The bleeding was too severe, the wound too deep—before conventional methods could take effect, the man would already be dead.
Shinichi didn't waste words. He turned directly to the figure who had been following him the entire time.
"Hizashi-senpai, help me seal the bleeding points."
Hizashi raised a brow but asked no unnecessary questions.
Chakra gathered at Hizashi's fingertips as they struck like lightning, landing on three points across the man's chest and abdomen. With each strike, the man's muscles trembled slightly—and the flow of blood visibly slowed.
This was the Hyūga clan's Gentle Fist point-sealing technique, originally meant to block an opponent's chakra.
Now, it was being used to stop bleeding.
And the effect was immediate.
Shinichi's hands suddenly flared with green chakra, covering the wound.
Mystical Palm Technique.
While using chakra to nourish the damaged internal organs, he simultaneously cleared out blood clots and foreign matter from inside the wound.
Hemostasis, debridement, and repair—three steps completed in perfect sync within a single breath.
Shinichi withdrew the Mystical Palm Technique, took out needle and thread from his medical pouch, and began suturing. His movements flowed seamlessly, so fast that his fingers were almost impossible to follow.
At the side, Hizashi's brows lifted slightly. The entire treatment process had been so precise and fluid, as if everything had already been calculated in advance—too fast, and far too composed.
"Send him back to the core area."
Shinichi stood up, his tone calm as if nothing had happened. Two logistics personnel immediately stepped forward, carefully placing the wounded man onto a stretcher and quickly retreating to the rear.
Shinichi didn't stop. He was already moving at a brisk pace toward the next place that needed him.
Hizashi followed at his side. Under the gaze of his Byakugan, he subconsciously glanced at the sutured wound. After a moment, he withdrew his gaze, said nothing, and simply continued on guard.
"Shinobi from Sunagakure are approaching this direction."
Shinichi, who was currently treating another Konoha shinobi's wound, heard Hizashi's voice beside him but did not stop his hands.
Hearing this, several young medical-nin nearby immediately tensed, instinctively raising their heads to look around.
"How many?" Shinichi didn't even lift his head, continuing to suture.
"About thirty."
The moment the words fell, from behind a pile of rubble not far ahead, a squad of Konoha shinobi suddenly rushed out—around fifty in number—colliding head-on with that Sunagakure unit. The two sides instantly clashed, shouts of battle and the ringing of weapons blending together.
Shinichi still didn't look up.
"No need to worry about them. Trust our comrades."
The young medical-nin exchanged glances, swallowed, then lowered their heads again and continued their work.
Hizashi stood at Shinichi's side, his Byakugan continuously scanning the surroundings.
The battlefield was chaotic.
Everywhere, figures were locked in combat. Everywhere, bursts of firelight and rising clouds of dust.
There were too many people.
Even though the Byakugan could perceive everything, human attention had its limits. He didn't dare relax for even a moment.
That thirty-man Sunagakure unit had already been intercepted.
For now, they were safe.
Hizashi refocused his mind, shifting his attention to other directions. At that moment, Shinichi's voice suddenly rang out.
"Hizashi-senpai, have you noticed anything?"
Hm?
Hizashi was about to respond when he saw the boy suddenly stand up. A point of crimson flame condensed at his fingertip as he gave a sharp shout: "Everyone, get behind me!"
The moment his words fell, more than a dozen orange fireballs tore through the air, surging toward them from the front!
The fireballs weren't large, but they carried a heart-pounding heat. The air warped wherever they passed, and even more terrifying was their speed—so fast their trajectories were nearly impossible to see.
But at the same time, a vast wave of flames surged into existence, a rolling crimson tide that crashed head-on into those orange fireballs.
Boom!!!
The two waves of fire collided violently in midair, erupting into blinding light and scorching shockwaves. Many of the orange fireballs were swallowed and dissolved within the crimson tide.
But three of them—now reduced in size and dimmed in brightness—pierced through the interception and continued shooting straight toward Shinichi!
The veins around Hizashi's eyes bulged as his right hand thrust forward!
Eight Trigrams: Air Palm!
Bang!!!
An invisible chakra shockwave blasted from his palm, striking the three fireballs with precision. The orange flames exploded in midair, scattering into countless sparks.
Hizashi withdrew his hand and stepped in front of Shinichi, his Byakugan locking tightly onto the direction from which the fireballs had come—
Too fast!
So fast that even within the vision of his Byakugan, that chakra trajectory was almost just a fleeting flash.
"Someone's coming! Very fast! Be careful!"
Hizashi shouted, his body instinctively moving to close in toward Shinichi.
The words had just left his mouth when, at that very instant, a massive wind blade descended from above without warning, accompanied by a piercing screech that tore through the air!
The blade stretched over ten meters, solid as if it were real steel, carrying a force that could cleave through anything as it came crashing down toward the area where Shinichi and Hizashi stood!
"Scatter!"
Shinichi gave a low shout, and both he and Hizashi dashed to opposite sides at the same time.
Boom!!!
The wind blade struck the ground where they had stood moments before, carving a deep trench into the hardened earth. Stones burst apart, dust billowed into the air.
More deadly still, that strike had completely separated Shinichi and Hizashi.
Before the dust had even settled, several more wind blades came howling in, precisely cutting off every possible path where the two might regroup, forcibly isolating them on opposite sides of the battlefield.
"Hizashi-senpai! Protect them!"
Shinichi's voice came from within the swirling dust.
Whoosh!
A figure shot out from the dust like a bolt of lightning!
"Careful, Shinichi-kun!" Hizashi shouted in warning.
That figure was too fast—so fast that even Hizashi's Byakugan could barely make out its shape. He could only catch a fleeting orange afterimage and a sharp glint of cold steel slicing through the air!
Shinichi's eyes narrowed. His right hand instantly pressed against the hilt at his waist, his entire body tightening like a drawn bowstring. The moment the opponent closed in—
Clang!!!
A flash of blade-light tore through the dust!
Iaijutsu!
The edge of his blade collided head-on with the incoming katana, sparks bursting forth along with a piercing metallic clash!
The lightning-fast figure abruptly halted, retreating a short distance before finally revealing her true form.
Amber-orange eyes. Streaked hair. A tall, slender figure and a young, cold face.
Pakura.
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