Chapter 115: The Art of Strategic Retreat & The Bridge of Ice
The noon sun beat down on the winding path to the Great Naruto Bridge, but Ren's mind was cool and tactical. Before leaving, he'd palmed a kunai, its handle now bearing a fresh, microscopic Flying Thunder God seal. With a casual flick, he embedded it deep into the shadowed, rotten wood of a disused toolshed next to Tazuna's house—an insurance policy invisible to all but him.
[Pure Land Live Stream – Chat Log]
[VIP5, Admin: Tobirama Senju]: A retreat marker? Before the battle has even begun? The host displays a distressing lack of offensive spirit. The Flying Thunder God was forged for assassination, for the decisive strike, not as an escape hatch!
[Host: Ren Arakawa]: You call it a lack of spirit. I call it ensuring operational longevity. It's called tactics. Something you famously lacked when you decided to 'heroically' sacrifice yourself against the Gold and Silver Brothers.
[VIP5, Admin: Tobirama Senju]: How dare—! That was a strategic holding action to ensure my team's retreat!
[VIP1: Minato Namikaze]: Actually, Second Hokage, Ren's method is sound. A pre-placed marker allows for rapid repositioning, counter-ambushes, and yes, a controlled exit. It multiplies options. When I fought the masked man, a pre-set marker is what kept me from being warped away. It's a force multiplier.
[VIP5, Admin: Tobirama Senju]: So you're on his side because he avenged your honor? Sentimentality!
[Host: Ren Arakawa]: He's on the side of not being dead. Which, if you'd thought to leave a marker before your last stand, you might also be. You invented a spacetime ninjutsu and used it like a slightly fancier Body Flicker. You don't know how to use your own technique.
The accusation hung in the digital air. Tobirama, for once, was speechless.
[Host: Ren Arakawa]: Think about it. You're covering Hiruzen's retreat. You plant a marker behind your lines first. You fight, you stall, and when it's time, you flash out. You live to Hokage another day. Instead, you chose the 'glorious' corpse option. That's not tactics; it's a failure of imagination.
In the Pure Land, Tobirama Senju's spectral form stiffened. A thousand years of unwavering certainty in his own logistical brilliance developed a tiny, hairline crack. Could I have… lived?
[Regular: Senju Hashirama]: Tobirama… is that true? You died to… the Gold and Silver Brothers? Just two elite jōnin?
[VIP5, Admin: Tobirama Senju]: They were not 'just'—they had ingested Nine-Tails flesh! They could use a pseudo-tailed beast transformation! And there were twenty other Kumo-nin!
[VIP1: Uchiha Madara]: Hn. Excuses. A true powerhouse of our era would have crushed them. To fall to such mediocrity… it seems the Senju deteriorated rapidly after Hashirama.
[VIP1: Uchiha Izuna]: I died to the inventor of the technique. You died to its mediocre users. I win.
[VIP2: Third Raikage]: To be fair, holding against twenty of my cloud's elite and two pseudo-jinchūriki is a commendable feat of endurance! Though my three-hour record against ten thousand Iwa-nin still stands!
[VIP1: Uchiha Madara]: Cease your prattling about endurance. It is unbecoming.
The bickering of legends faded into background noise as Ren and Tazuna arrived at the bridge construction site. The scene was wrong. Utterly still. No clang of hammers, no shouts of workers. Dozens of men lay sprawled across the unfinished span, unconscious or feigning it, their tools scattered around them like fallen weapons.
Not an attack, Ren assessed instantly. A message. A clearing of the stage.
Then, the air grew cold. Not the chill of sea wind, but a sharp, crystalline drop in temperature. From the clear sky, delicate, six-pointed ice flowers began to drift down, glittering in the sunlight—a beautiful, deadly prelude.
[VIP5, Admin: Tobirama Senju]: Ice Release. The tool has arrived. The stage is set. Let us see if your 'tactics' extend beyond placing getaway vehicles.
Ren didn't answer. He pushed Tazuna gently but firmly behind a half-built concrete pylon. "Stay. Don't move. Don't make a sound."
He stepped forward onto the open bridge, the ice flowers melting against his warm skin. His senses, amplified by Minato's Meditation technique, stretched out. He felt it—a calm, focused chakra signature, cold and clear as a mountain stream, positioned high above, likely on the bridge's suspension cables.
"You cleared the audience," Ren called out, his voice echoing slightly on the empty bridge. "Considerate. I assume this isn't a social call about the local weather."
A figure materialized, not from thin air, but from a shimmering pane of ice that formed on a vertical girder. Haku stood there, his androgynous beauty stark against the industrial backdrop, his mask gone. His expression was serene, but his eyes held a profound seriousness.
"Ren Arakawa of Konoha," Haku's voice was soft, carrying easily in the silent space. "Zabuza-sama acknowledges your skill. And your mercy, in a way, for not killing him when you could have. But the mission remains. Tazuna must die. Please, step aside. I have no wish to harm one so… interesting."
Ren smiled, a small, sharp thing. "Can't do that. Client confidentiality. Also, I have a professional interest in not failing my assignments." He casually rolled his shoulders. "But since you're being polite… tell me, Haku. Does your 'Zabuza-sama' know you're here, negotiating? Or does he think you're just scouting?"
Haku's serenity didn't flicker, but Ren's Byakugan, activated for a split second, saw the minute tightening around his eyes. He's acting on his own. Trying to resolve this without forcing Zabuza to fight crippled. Loyalty and desperation.
"That is unimportant," Haku said. He raised a hand. The falling ice flowers suddenly stopped in mid-air, then oriented themselves, sharp points aimed at Ren. Dozens of tiny, glittering needles. "This is your last chance. Please."
[VIP1: Uchiha Madara]: Posturing. The weak plead before they fight.
[VIP2: Third Raikage]: A battlefield parley! I respect it! But the fight is inevitable!
[VIP1: Minato Namikaze]: Be careful, Ren! His Ice Release is swift!
Ren didn't move. He kept his hands loose at his sides. "I have a counter-offer," he said, his tone conversational. "You and Zabuza walk away. Gato is a dead man walking; I just haven't gotten around to telling him yet. His money's no good to a corpse. Find a new employer. One who won't throw you away."
Haku's eyes widened a fraction. The ice needles trembled. "You… you would kill Gato?"
"It's on the to-do list," Ren shrugged. "More efficient than waiting for him to send more of you. So, what do you say? Save your master the pain of a fight he can't win on one leg. I've seen his chakra. The wound is festering. He needs a medic, not a battlefield."
For a moment, genuine conflict warred on Haku's face. Then, it hardened into resolve. "I am Zabuza-sama's tool. Tools do not choose their wielder's path. I am sorry."
His hand slashed down.
The cloud of ice needles shot forward, a blizzard of pinpoint death.
Ren didn't dodge. He didn't weave signs.
He simply vanished.
Not in a shunshin blur. In a silent, instantaneous pop of displaced air.
He reappeared ten meters to the left, leaning against a different pylon, the ice needles shattering harmlessly against concrete where he'd just been standing.
Haku's breath hitched. "That… that movement…"
"The correct way to use the Flying Thunder God," Ren said, tapping a finger against the pylon. A nearly invisible formula glowed for an instant under his touch. He'd been placing them subtly as he walked onto the bridge. "You don't just use it to run away. You use it to control the terrain."
The chapter ended with Haku staring, reassessing his opponent completely, and Ren offering a thin, challenging smile from across the bridge. The first move was a feint, a display. The real fight, the test of whether tactics could overcome pure, devoted lethality, was just beginning. And the Flying Thunder God kunai back at the toolshed remained unused, a silent promise of a retreat that Ren had no intention of taking.
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