The special explosive tag was Yakushi Nonō's final ace, prepared in secret before she took on this suicide mission.
Under the moonlight, the intricate seal patterns on the tag glinted coldly, pulsing with violent energy that could obliterate her body in an instant.
Her fingertips brushed the icy lines, a soul-chilling wave of destructive power creeping up her hand.
Nonō took a deep breath, channeling her last shred of resolve into her fingers. Even if she could only blast open the slimmest chance of survival for the trembling orphans hiding in the rock crevice, her self-destruction would be worth it.
The chill of death coiled around her heart like a venomous snake. The approaching footsteps of the Mist Village ANBU, the glint of moonlight on their kunai and blades, the thick stench of blood and killing intent in the air—all of it wove into a despairing requiem for her final moments.
Her heartbeat raced, each thud counting down her life.
Just as her finger hovered, ready to press down, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to crack her ribs—the world went silent.
Not true silence, but the absolute stillness that comes when something beyond mortal comprehension arrives. The wind froze, leaves hung suspended in midair, and every person's movements locked like a paused video.
In that frozen moment—CRACK!!!
A blinding, ferocious bolt of thunder, like a spear of divine judgment hurled from the heavens, tore through the fog and darkness, descending with apocalyptic force.
This wasn't ordinary lightning. It was near-liquid, a pure, heart-stopping azure that shimmered with divine intensity.
Its speed outstripped the eye's ability to follow, leaving only a searing afterimage that seemed to split the sky itself. Even the moonlight paled in its presence.
BOOM!!!
The deafening roar wasn't just sound—it was the raw vibration of pure energy ripping through the atmosphere, pulverizing the earth.
The thunderbolt struck precisely dozens of meters in front of Nonō, shattering the ground like glass into a massive, charred crater. Spiderweb cracks raced toward her feet.
At the crater's edge, the soil was baked crystal-clear by the heat. Shattered rocks and splintered wood shot outward like cannon fire, carried by the shockwave.
A scorching blast of air, reeking of ozone, surged like a tsunami, nearly igniting every speck of dust in its path.
"What the—?!"
"Enemy attack—!"
"Full alert! Now!"
The blinding light and heat stunned the Mist ANBU, who instinctively scrambled back, throwing up arms to shield eyes nearly burned by the glare.
The intense light stole their vision, leaving only a blue-white afterimage of destruction. Several ANBU, temporarily blinded, stumbled or dropped to their knees.
The canyon shook violently, the air screaming in agony.
Only after the thunder hit did the ear-splitting screech of a thousand chirping birds—Chidori's signature—rip through the night like a belated war cry, piercing every eardrum and leaving them ringing.
Nonō's movements froze, her fingertip a hair's breadth from the explosive tag, unable to press down.
She stared at the spot where the lightning struck, the glare forcing tears from her squinted eyes. Yet she could sense an indescribable, overwhelming presence—like the eye of a storm—born in the heart of the devastation. Its power was so immense it inspired awe.
The lightning dimmed but didn't fade.
In the center of the charred crater, countless azure arcs writhed and crackled like living things, casting eerie, shifting light across the area.
And in the heart of the raging thunder stood a tall, imposing figure, radiating suffocating pressure.
The lightning didn't retreat—it coiled around him like loyal guards, blurring his form and face, making him look like a god born from a storm.
Vaguely visible were wild, dark hair and a pair of eyes so sharp they seemed to pierce souls, glinting through the electric haze.
He stood casually, yet an invisible, crushing force spread outward, gripping every heart in the vicinity. Weaker ANBU instinctively stepped back, their knife-holding hands trembling.
His gaze cut through the crowd of enemies, landing squarely on the blonde woman leaning against a boulder, her fingers frozen at her sleeve, her face a mix of disbelief and confusion.
His eyes quickly scanned her bloodstained clothes and pale cheeks, assessing her condition.
Seeing that Nonō was battered and bloodied but not fatally wounded, Uchiha Makoto let out a quiet breath of relief, thinking, "Made it. Trip wasn't for nothing."
His gaze shifted slightly, catching the pale, emaciated figures curled up in the rock crevice. A cold, icy glint flashed in his eyes, and the lightning around him seemed to grow more restless.
Finally, his eyes swept over the Mist ANBU, now on high alert but with a slightly disorganized formation, like a predator surveying its territory. A dangerous smirk curled his lips.
The smile brimmed with unapologetic confidence.
"Pfft," Makoto's voice was soft but cut through the lingering thunder and crackling arcs, clear as a bell in every ear.
"So many of you, fully armed, ganging up on a woman cornered in a death trap, and you're still using a bunch of kids as bargaining chips…"
"Mist Village ANBU, you guys are really stepping up your game, huh?"
"Black… Black Flash!"
One of the closer ANBU muttered, his voice warped with fear, his trembling hand nearly dropping his kunai.
His shocked cry was like a curse, igniting a wave of barely contained panic and chaos among the ANBU ranks.
For the past half-year, this lightning-wreathed figure had haunted the Mist Village like a nightmare.
No one knew his face or origins, only that he had black hair, moved like a phantom, wielded ferocious lightning like the Cloud Village's Raikages, and might even command space-time ninjutsu.
Multiple carefully planned ambushes had failed miserably. He'd even strolled away from an elite squad under the Fourth Mizukage's direct command, leaving behind a trail of wreckage and a stain on the Mist Village's pride.
"Full alert! Maximum vigilance!" the ANBU captain barked, but the faint tremor in his voice betrayed his unease.
Nonō stared at the lightning-clad figure, barely making out a tall silhouette radiating heart-stopping power.
In her hopeless situation, it gave her an inexplicable sense of safety—a feeling that shocked even her.
"Black Flash…"
As Konoha's top elite spy, embedded in the Mist Village for half a year, Nonō knew all about this figure who gave the Mist's higher-ups endless headaches.
Her mind raced through fragments of intel about him.
His rise to infamy had coincided with her arrival in the Mist Village. Over the past half-year, she'd overheard countless emergency meetings about him, yet no effective counterstrategy had ever been devised.
Hence the name: Black Flash.
The ninja world had two similar titles, both tied to absolute powerhouses—Konoha's Fourth Hokage, the Yellow Flash, and the Cloud Village's Fourth Raikage, the Blue Flash.
Intel suggested his strength wasn't quite Kage-level, but his elusiveness was off the charts, earning him the Mist Village's highest threat rating.
"Why's he here? Friend or foe? Is he saving me? Or…" In her utter despair, Nonō's heart churned with doubt and a faint flicker of hope.
Her other hand still gripped the cold explosive tag in her sleeve, her knuckles white. "Here to silence me? Or to steal the intel I've gathered?"
A bitter, hollow smile tugged at her lips. Her long career as a spy, coupled with this desperate moment, had drained her spirit, leaving a weary craving for death.
Years of dancing on the edge of life and death weighed on her, threatening to crush her entirely.
The ANBU captain's face, hidden behind his mask, was grim, sweat beading on his forehead. He cursed inwardly.
This monster wasn't overwhelmingly strong, but his tricks were unpredictable, his speed unmatched in the Mist Village. Catching him was damn near impossible.
In their half-year of clashes, they hadn't even grazed his clothes, losing plenty of their own in the process.
All they knew? Black hair, male, young voice. His face, his village—complete blanks.
Even Ao, with his Byakugan, had never faced him directly, leaving them with zero actionable intel.
The captain swallowed his dread and irritation, stepping forward, forcing a respectful tone through his mask.
"Lord Black Flash, your reputation precedes you."
"This woman is a critical fugitive, personally ordered for capture by the Fourth Mizukage. Please, do us the courtesy of stepping aside."
"The Mist Village will repay you handsomely."
He kept his voice as deferential as possible, praying Black Flash wouldn't interfere.
The figure in the lightning let out a low, ambiguous hum, his voice warped by the thunder into a deep, commanding growl, dripping with unyielding authority.
"The person I'm taking… you can't stop me. Stand down."
His brief words carried absolute certainty.
The captain's tone hardened. "Lord! If she escapes our grasp today, the Mizukage's wrath won't be appeased."
"Next time, it won't just be ANBU hunting her. It could be the Mizukage himself!"
"You're strong, but are you really ready to make an enemy of a village's Kage? Of the entire Mist Village?" He leaned on the Fourth Mizukage's name, hoping to intimidate.
The Five Great Nations' Kages were titans at the ninja world's peak. Their threat carried the weight of mountains. No sane ninja would lightly cross one.
"Oh?" Makoto's voice filtered through the thunder, tinged with amusement, like he'd heard a good joke.
"Then let Yagura Karatachi come find me himself. I'll be waiting."
His tone was casual, like he was chatting about the weather, not brushing off a Kage's threat.
As he spoke, the lightning around him dimmed slightly, and he took a single step forward. That tiny move sent the ANBU into a frenzy, crouching lower, gripping weapons tighter.
Chakra flickered at their fingertips, but no one dared make the first move.
"Sir!" The captain raised his voice, making one last push.
"You may not fear crossing the Mizukage, but have you considered her wishes?" He thrust a hand toward the starving, trembling orphans in the crevice.
"These kids are her adopted orphans, bound to her by deep loyalty. If she leaves today, what happens to them?"
"The Mizukage's anger isn't something they can survive." His words dripped with menace and manipulation.
Nonō's face went deathly pale, her body swaying, barely able to stand. This was her worst fear, her ultimate weakness—those innocent kids, now her final bargaining chip. Despair choked her.
Makoto paused, tilting his head slightly, his gaze returning to the terrified children.
The thick lightning obscured his face, hiding his expression, but the arcs around him surged wilder.
"So what?"
His voice was eerily calm, more chilling than his earlier bravado.
The captain sensed a sliver of opportunity, softening his tone, doubling down on the manipulation. "If she surrenders willingly and returns with us for questioning…"
"These kids will be safely placed in the Mist Village, untouched."
"And the Mist will leave you alone from now on. Past misunderstandings? Wiped clean."
He dangled a seemingly reasonable deal to sway him.
"Lies! Nothing but lies!" Nonō bit her lip, nearly drawing blood.
She knew better than anyone—falling alive into the Mist ANBU's hands meant endless torture and interrogation for her and the kids.
Their "guarantee" was worthless. But… did she have a choice? Cold despair gripped her heart, stealing her breath.
As Nonō's resolve crumbled under the crushing weight, the figure in the lightning—Makoto—suddenly laughed.
The sound, filtered through the electricity, carried a mocking, all-knowing confidence, like he was scoffing at their pathetic performance.
He'd always been the one spinning grand promises to others. Getting played like this? That was new. He locked eyes with the ANBU captain.
"You seem to be… missing something here…"
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