Silver Blade of the Leaf

As Senju Tetsuma retreated through the storm-drenched forests of the Land of Rain, the rhythmic patter of raindrops on leaves was drowned out by the sound of his own ragged breathing. His uniform was torn, soaked with both rain and blood, the deep gash along his ribs slowing him down. Behind him, his mission lay in ruins—his battalion wiped out, his men slaughtered by two S-rank hunter-nin from Kirigakure. He had barely survived their relentless pursuit, his famed silver blade barely keeping him alive.

Now, Amegakure's shinobi stood in his path, blocking his retreat.

They knew him. The Silver Blade of the Leaf. His reputation had reached even this war-torn land. He was a ghost on the battlefield, a specter of death whose sword never hesitated. They had heard of his exploits—how his blade could cut down even the strongest foes before they could react.

But now, he was bleeding. His movements, though still sharp, lacked their usual precision. His grip on his sword was tight, but not unshakable. He had been wounded.

And so, they hesitated.

One of them shifted uneasily, gripping a kunai. "He's hurt."

Their leader, a man with jagged scars lining his jaw, narrowed his eyes. "He's still standing."

A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant roar of thunder.

Then—one of them took the gamble.

A blur of movement. A thrown kunai.

Tetsuma reacted instantly. The Silver Blade flashed.

Blood sprayed across the rain-slicked ground. The first Ame-nin fell, his body hitting the mud with a sickening thud.

The gamble had begun.

The moment the first Ame-nin fell, the others lunged. The rain fell in sheets, masking their movements, but Tetsuma's senses remained razor-sharp. His silver blade gleamed even in the dull light, a sliver of death in the storm.

The first attacker came from the left, a blur of motion, a kunai flashing toward Tetsuma's ribs. Too slow. Tetsuma twisted his body, avoiding the strike by a hair's breadth. His left hand shot forward, gripping the attacker's wrist and twisting violently—crack! A scream rang out as the enemy's arm bent the wrong way. Without missing a beat, Tetsuma slammed his knee into the man's gut, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Another Ame-nin was already on him, swinging a short blade in a horizontal arc. Tetsuma ducked, feeling the blade whistle past his head. He drove his elbow into the man's ribs, spun on his heel, and brought his sword up in a deadly arc—a flash of silver, a spray of crimson. The man's throat opened, and he collapsed with a gurgle.

The remaining Ame-nin hesitated.

"What are you waiting for?!" their leader barked.

They surged forward as one, trying to overwhelm him with sheer numbers. Six men, moving in perfect coordination. Kunai flew at him from all directions, but Tetsuma was already moving.

A flicker step—he was behind the first one before the man even realized. A single, brutal slash, and the ninja's body crumpled.

Another tried to grab him from behind. Fool. Tetsuma dropped low, spun, and drove his sword backward—straight through the man's chest.

Three left.

They circled him warily now, learning from their fallen comrades. Tetsuma exhaled, his fingers crackling with energy. It was time to end this.

"Chidori Nagashi."

Lightning erupted from his body in a violent surge of raw chakra. The air sizzled, the raindrops turning to steam as arcs of electricity lashed out.

The closest Ame-nin screamed as the lightning engulfed him, his body convulsing violently before dropping lifelessly into the mud.

The remaining two tried to retreat, but Tetsuma was faster. He vanished, reappearing behind the first one, his hand already wreathed in pure lightning.

"Chidori Senko—"

The Ame-nin barely had time to turn before Tetsuma's hand plunged into his chest, lightning spearing straight through flesh and bone. His body seized up, eyes wide in shock, before Tetsuma ripped his arm free and let him drop.

The final Ame-nin turned to flee. Tetsuma wouldn't allow it.

Lightning gathered in his palm again, but this time, he formed a single, thin lance of crackling energy. He raised two fingers and flicked it.

The lightning spear shot through the storm with impossible speed, piercing the man clean through the heart. He fell face-first into the mud, unmoving.

Silence.

The only sound left was the rain…and Tetsuma's steady breathing.

He surveyed the battlefield. Three full teams. Gone.

His wounds burned, and his chakra was running low. But he couldn't stop now. The real enemies—the two S-rank hunter-nin—were still out there.

And they wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating him.