Naruto: The White Spider of the Leaf

I arrived just in time to witness the brutal exchange. The clearing was pure chaos—trees lay scattered everywhere in pieces; the ground torn up and blood staining the earth. Minato stood at the center of it all, panting heavily, his golden hair dulled with sweat and grime. Several needles protruded from his arms and legs, his movements sluggish, his breaths labored. His fingers loosened as his kunai dropped. He looked pale—too pale—and the crimson dripping from the corner of his mouth told me all I needed to know.

Poison.

But it was that Hiroto guy who caught my attention next. Minato sure did a number on him. The Sand Jonin was a wreck. His left arm hung in tatters, or rather, it didn't—it wasn't there at all, severed at the elbow. Blood soaked his side, his eyes wild and bloodshot, a rabid beast in human form. I guess even a high ranking Jonin, a student of lady Chiyo, can't quite measure up to the young Yellow Flash.

Yet, even in his battered state, that Hiroto pushed forward with everything he had. His one remaining arm jerked, forcing his puppet—a twisted, jagged contraption of wood and metal—into a frenzied lunge at Minato.

Ha! As if such a last ditch effort would ever work on—Time slowed for a moment as I saw the fear flash across Minato's face. He couldn't move—not fast enough, not with that poison coursing through him. I realized it immediately. The puppet's blade-like arm gleamed under the faint moonlight as it surged forward, aiming straight for Minato's chest.

My body moved before my mind caught up.

There was no hesitation as I unwrapped the weights from my arms and legs in one fluid motion. With all my strength, I flung the weights at the puppet. Four sets of 150 kilograms each—over half a ton of raw steel—hurtled through the air like cannonballs. The first smashed into the puppet's side, splintering the wood and cracking the metal. The others followed, pulverizing its midsection and breaking it apart completely. The twisted contraption crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

Hiroto snarled like a wounded animal, his bloodshot eyes snapping toward me. "You…!? Where is my te–"

I didn't let him finish. The sudden release made my entire body feel lighter—freer—and for the first time in a while, I felt the full extent of my speed. My hands flew into a series of seals as my chakra surged with electricity in my legs. I opened the first of the Eight Inner Gates again. A sudden burst of energy flooded my body, and the pain of exhaustion melted away, replaced by an almost euphoric power. I opened the second gate next, and felt an intense energy course through me as my veins bulged, drilling stamina into me. Then the third gate—it was like unleashing a hurricane within myself. The air around me shimmered with heat, and my skin flushed red as my chakra exploded outward.

By the second the fourth gate opened, I was already on him before he could blink. My speed was overwhelming, even to me. One moment I was standing ten meters away, the next I was driving my fist into Hiroto's stomach. The impact lifted him off the ground, his body folding around my punch as blood sprayed from his mouth.

He barely hit the ground before I was on him again. My next strike aimed for his remaining arm, and I felt bone shatter beneath my fist. His scream was guttural, primal, but I didn't stop. I spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to his ribs, sending him skidding across the ground like a broken doll.

I stepped on his chest and pushed down as I answered his earlier half question. "Your team? Dead."

Hiroto clawed at the dirt, struggling to push himself up, but his body betrayed him. His bloodied face twisted into a snarl as he glared at me with unbridled hatred. "You little... brat…!"

I grabbed him by the face and lifted him, before I smashed his head into the ground to knock him unconscious. Not a second later, I had him wrapped up in steel wire like his last remaining student. Most people would've probably died from that, but this guy was a Jonin, and I could sense that he still breathed even now.

As I stood over his body, my breathing turned ragged, my vision swimming from the strain of opening the gates. My muscles burned, and every fiber of my being screamed at me to stop. Thankfully, it was over now. I released the gates and felt relief. We'd survived the encounter.

"Shiro…kumo…"

I turned to see Minato, leaning against a tree for support, his eyes half-lidded but filled with relief as well. He looked like he was about to collapse.

"You okay?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

He nodded weakly. "Better than him," he muttered, managing a faint smile despite the blood on his lips.

I couldn't help but chuckle, though it came out more like a wheeze. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the ground, the adrenaline fading and leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

I forced myself back to my feet, my body screaming in protest with every movement. The gates had done their job, but the strain was catching up to me now that the battle was over. My legs felt like lead, but Minato needed me. Gritting my teeth, I stumbled toward him, the world spinning slightly as exhaustion weighed heavy on my shoulders.

Minato slid down the tree he was leaning against, collapsing onto the ground with a sharp wince. His breathing was shallow, his skin a shade too close to gray for comfort. The needles embedded in his arms and legs glinted faintly under the early daylight, cruel reminders of just how close he'd come to losing.

"Hang on, Minato," I muttered, crouching beside him. My hands trembled as I rummaged through the small medical pouch strapped to my waist. "This isn't going to be fun, but it'll help."

He let out a soft chuckle, though it was strained and laced with pain. "Not sure what–what part of this morning has been fun..."

"Fair point," I said, pulling out one of the standard antidotes we always carried on missions. It wasn't specialized for whatever this was, but it was effective enough against most basic poisons. At least, I hoped it would be.

I popped the cap off the small vial and held it to his lips. "Drink this."

He grimaced but didn't argue, tilting his head back as I carefully poured the bitter liquid into his mouth. He gagged slightly but swallowed it down. "Tastes like dirt," he muttered, coughing weakly.

I smirked. "Better dirt than death. You'll thank me later."

"Remind me to ask the medical-nin to work on a better formula when we get back, something like a strawberry flavor or the sort..." he said, his voice fading into a whisper. His eyelids drooped, but he forced them open again, refusing to let exhaustion take him just yet.

"You're doing great," I said, patting his shoulder gently. "Just hang tight."

Hiroto, the Sand Jonin, lay in a crumpled heap where I'd left him, his mangled body barely held together by my wire. His subordinates were sprawled somewhere out there where we'd fought, with the other survivor bound in steel wire.

Time to make sure they stayed that way.

I went back and dragged the chain and sickle user back, keeping him tied up securely to his sensei with my remaining steel wire. I tightened the bindings until I was certain they wouldn't wiggle free, then methodically broke their feet and fingers. It wasn't something I enjoyed—far from it—but I wasn't taking any chances. If they woke up before we were ready to move, they wouldn't be able to do much more than glare at us. After that, I performed some first aid on Hiroto, I thought he'd be more useful alive than dead where we were going.

When I finished I returned to Minato, who slumped against the tree but still held conscious. His breathing sounded a little steadier, and some of the color was returning to his face, though he still looked like he'd been through hell.

"How are you holding up?" I asked, settling down beside him.

He gave me a weak thumbs-up. "Still alive. Thanks to you."

"Don't mention it." I leaned back against the tree, staring up at the rising sun visible through the gaps in the canopy. "We'll rest here for half an hour. You should sleep, I'll carry you to the outpost after I do something real quick."

He didn't argue, which told me just how bad he was feeling. Minato wasn't the type to back down from a fight—or a journey—unless he absolutely had to.

"You're… exhausted too," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "I can't have you carry me."

"Yeah, but I'll manage," I said with a faint smile. "You're the one with poison in your system. You win the resting lottery."

He chuckled softly, then closed his eyes, his body finally giving in to the fatigue. Within moments, his breathing slowed, becoming deep and even.

I shifted my position, keeping my back to the tree and my eyes on the tied-up enemies. The forest was eerily quiet now, the chaos of the battle replaced by the sounds of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves. My muscles ached, and my head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, but I stayed alert. I couldn't afford to let my guard down—not yet.

We'd survived this fight, now we just had to repeat this over and over until the war was over.