The Little Boy's Adopted Brother
Nakamura wasn't overly surprised by his team's performance. After all, they were his students, and he already understood their capabilities. Though still inexperienced, their strength was undeniable. Victory had been the natural outcome.
Because of that, Nakamura didn't press them for battle details. The traces left behind told the story clearly enough—too obvious for any guesswork.
This time, however, they didn't bother erasing those traces as carefully as before. They only tidied the battlefield, then moved directly toward the Grass Ninja encampment.
By this point, exposure no longer mattered. If they could deal with Kusagakure's forces, their only remaining threat in the region would be Takigakure.
And that, in truth, was something Nakamura wanted to avoid if possible. Unlike Kusagakure, which mostly fielded shinobi, Takigakure possessed true elites. Even a small force from there would be dangerous. They had the Hero Water—capable of doubling a shinobi's power at the cost of lifespan—and they harbored the Seven-Tails Jinchūriki. Reinforcements from Taki could arrive far too quickly if provoked.
That was why Nakamura chose to eliminate the Grass Ninja first. Soft persimmons were always easier to squeeze.
---
Meanwhile, Shirō was already keeping careful watch over Kusagakure's camp. From his distant vantage point, no patrolling ninja could possibly detect him—none of them had the gift of clairvoyance.
Since his arrival, Shirō had prepared quietly, waiting for the proper moment to strike. An hour after Tai Yi and the others had finished their battle, the Grass Ninja camp began to stir. They were preparing for their daily search patrol.
Shirō placed a military ration pill in his mouth, stretched lightly, and bounced on the rocky ground at the mountaintop. According to Shikamaru's calculations, his allies would be arriving within the hour. That meant it was time for him to act.
Truthfully, Shirō didn't need Shikamaru's signal. If he let the Grass Ninja scatter into patrol units, the risk of exposure would multiply.
As confirmation, the summoning contract serpent that had been shadowing Shikamaru dispersed with a puff of smoke. The timing was perfect.
"Heh… terrifying as always. His calculations are on point," Shirō muttered, smiling faintly. "But reliable teammates are rare treasures."
Then he raised his head, adopting his familiar chuunibyou pose.
"Now, you mongrels… be honored. You shall perish by the king's sword!"
White light flared around his hands.
"Projection, start!"
In his left hand appeared a heavy black bow—Archer EMIYA's favored bow, though Shirō had reduced its size to better fit his frame. The original was too large to handle efficiently. It had no unique properties beyond maximizing performance, but it was ideal for firing projected weapons or even Noble Phantasms.
In his right hand materialized a silver-and-crimson blade: Clarent, the Rebel's Sword, better known as the usurper's version of the king's sword.
This time, however, Shirō wasn't intending to use it for its true function. The engraving hadn't stored enough magical energy for a full Clarent Blood Arthur beam, and besides, the distance was too great.
No—this Clarent was destined to be sacrificed.
Shirō intended to unleash a Broken Phantasm.
Unlike standard projections, detonating a Noble Phantasm consumed far more magical energy, as each shattered weapon had to be projected anew if ever needed again. That was why, unlike EMIYA, who could endlessly reproduce Kanshō and Bakuya with minimal strain, Shirō reserved Broken Phantasms for decisive moments.
Clarent was the perfect candidate. This C-rank Noble Phantasm, in Shirō's hands, was little more than a sharp blade. He wasn't skilled in knightly swordsmanship, and its primary function had already been diminished in projection. Blowing it up cost him little compared to losing a weapon he actually relied on.
With his decision made, Shirō set Clarent against the bowstring. Chakra surged within him, blending with his magical energy until the air itself vibrated.
The bow groaned as he drew. His clothes whipped in the sudden gale, sparks of blue lightning flickering across his body.
It looked dazzling—but in truth, it was imperfect. Shirō hadn't yet mastered the technique, and he was compensating by forcing out excess chakra to stabilize the weapon.
Still, the sword's shape warped under his modification, elongating into a crude arrow form. It wasn't elegant, but it would fly straight enough.
His eyes narrowed.
"Loose!"
The distorted sword-arrow launched, ripping the air apart with a visible shockwave.
A heartbeat later—
BOOM!
Clarent struck the center of the Grass Ninja's camp, detonating in a brilliant Broken Phantasm blast. Fire and smoke erupted upward, blooming into a destructive mushroom cloud.
Shirō didn't watch the aftermath. White light shimmered around his body as he unfurled the Invisibility Cloth, suppressing the lingering turbulence of his chakra. Without a sound, he darted into the forest.
At a prearranged clearing, he leapt onto the back of his second summoned bird—Flying Bird No. 2—patted its wings, and guided it into the sky. Circling behind the mountain, he ascended higher, until no ordinary shinobi could possibly track him.
From above, however, Shirō could see everything. Should any Grass Ninja attempt to scatter, his arrows would fall like warnings from heaven.
It was for this very reason that Nakamura had trusted him alone with the task of restraining Kusagakure's forces.
---
Note 1: Noble Phantasm – Invisibility Cloth
Rank: E
Holder: Gilgamesh, King of Uruk
Appearance: A simple cloth
Origin: One of the oldest conceptual invisibility artifacts, cited across East and West
Ability: Conceals the covered object from magical or optical detection. However, other senses—sound, smell, body heat, movement—remain detectable, limiting its utility. Said to be woven in at least five dimensions, rendering complete human reproduction impossible.
Visit patreon.com/MexxyWave to get access to 30+ chapters