Chapter 25: The Forehead Protector’s Defense  

The spiky-haired man hastily leaped to dodge, but the massive water dragon seemed to anticipate his move. With a sweeping coil like a soaring dragon, it sent him flying into the air. 

"Partial Expansion Jutsu!" 

At that moment, a plump hand rapidly enlarged, swelling to the size of a windmill in an instant before seizing the helpless spiky-haired ninja mid-air. 

The man was now completely trapped in the giant palm, unable to break free—like a sausage gripped in a fist, with only his head sticking out. 

Crack! Crack! 

The crushing force shattered his limbs, blood gushing from his mouth as his internal organs were crushed beyond function. He had lost all ability to move. 

Clearly, Akimichi Torifu, who had arrived as backup, had used the Partial Expansion Jutsu to capture the enemy in a single grasp. 

Meanwhile, the last remaining Suna chūnin wasn't faring any better. His body was covered in swarms of black kikaichū, the venom pushing him to his limit before the Aburame clan's insects subdued him effortlessly. 

Umino Yoru, however, stood frozen like a statue, seemingly stunned by the sudden Water Dragon Bullet Technique. 

But beneath his dazed expression, his heart was racing. The Water Dragon Bullet had just grazed past him—he wasn't afraid, but exhilarated. 

Feeling the sheer power of the technique at point-blank range made him realize just how terrifying B-rank water release could be. If this was only B-rank, how much more devastating would A-rank or S-rank water techniques be? 

The shinobi world was brutal, far from the comforts of his past life, yet it held its own wonders. 

Weren't these powerful jutsu exactly what he had always yearned for? 

If he was going to live in this world, wouldn't it be a waste not to master such techniques? 

Once he earned enough mission points, he'd exchange them for knowledge on developing a second chakra nature—solving his severe chakra shortage once and for all. 

"We're saved!" 

Gekkō Yoru, having narrowly escaped death, was overjoyed. 

"Huh? What just happened?" 

Umino Yoru pretended to snap out of his daze, feigning confusion as he turned to Yoru. "Kid, are we dreaming?" 

"It's real, sir! We're saved—the mobile patrol squad came to our rescue!" 

Yoru hugged him tightly, relief and happiness overflowing. 

"Alright, alright, I get it." 

Being embraced by a teenage boy was awkward, and Yoru quickly wriggled free. 

But then— 

Whoosh! 

A senbon shot out from the dying spiky-haired man's mouth, aimed straight at Yoru's head. 

Even with his bones shattered and his body crushed beyond movement, the Suna jōnin had mustered one last attack—a final act of spite. 

Truly, no jōnin was ever to be underestimated, especially one hardened by the harsh deserts of Wind Country. 

CRUNCH! 

The giant hand instantly reduced the man's body to a pulp, leaving only his head intact. 

"Look out!" 

None of the Konoha shinobi had expected such a sneak attack from a seemingly defeated enemy. They were too far to intercept it in time. 

"Captain, dodge!" 

Inuzuka Ryō, with his sharp senses, spotted the threat. 

"Damn it!" 

Yoru's face paled. 

His Sound Radar Technique, derived from his water bat summons, relied on echolocation—not the penetrating perception of the Byakugan. He hadn't detected the hidden senbon. 

Still, his technique gave him just enough warning to react. 

He could have dodged—but Yoru stood directly behind him, in the projectile's path. 

If he moved, the boy would die. 

But if he sacrificed Yoru, all his months of pretending to uphold the Will of Fire would be for nothing. 

If word got back to Konoha's higher-ups, he'd be labeled expendable. 

In that split second, his mind raced. 

"Got it!" 

"Yoru, stay down!" 

Yoru threw himself in front of the boy, acting the part of a selfless hero ready to take the hit. 

Ting! 

The senbon struck—right against his forehead protector. 

"No…!" 

The spiky-haired man let out a final, despairing wail before dying with wide, unseeing eyes. 

His last thought was sheer bitterness—how could fate be so cruel? A sure-kill strike, deflected by sheer luck? 

"He's okay!" 

"The senbon hit his headband!" 

"Good karma pays off—the captain's luck is insane!" 

Shukudō and the others cheered, hugging each other in relief. 

Meanwhile, Inuzuka Ryō, squeezed in a tight embrace by the round-faced Koyuki, blushed furiously—though everyone assumed it was just excitement for their captain's survival. 

"Sir… sniff…" 

Yoru, overwhelmed with gratitude, clung to Yoru, tears streaming down his face. 

"Hey, hey! Don't wipe your snot on my flak jacket—it's a pain to wash!" 

Yoru tried to pry the emotional teen off, but Yoru refused to let go. 

Well, the kid was only thirteen or fourteen—strong enough to be near-jōnin level, but still just a child at heart. After a brush with death, it was understandable. 

At least the explosive tags on his body weren't pressure-sensitive. The last thing he needed was an accidental detonation.