Chapter 117: Human Projectiles, Ice Needles, and a Very Unfortunate Latrine
The wall of fire Ren unleashed wasn't just an attack; it was a declaration. It vaporized Zabuza's clones, boiled away the mist in a wide radius, and turned the bridge deck into a blistering, molten hellscape. It also left him and Tazuna plummeting through empty air towards the inferno.
"Uncle Tazuna! Hands on head! Now!" Ren barked, his voice cutting through the old man's screams.
Before Tazuna could process the command, Ren had already snagged his belt. With a grunt and a heave, he hurled the bridge builder like a discus—not down, but in a high, desperate arc towards the relative safety of an unfinished bridge support tower on the far side.
"Aiyooooo! My bones!" Tazuna's wail trailed after him as he sailed through the air, limbs flailing.
Ren didn't watch him land. The moment the old man left his hand, the world blurred. He didn't fall. He appeared, with a soft pop of displaced air, standing lightly on the very support tower Tazuna was crashing towards. He'd slapped a Flying Thunder God seal on the old man's coat during their earlier contact. Tazuna wasn't just a client; he was a mobile teleportation beacon.
THUMP-CRUNCH-GROAN.
Tazuna hit the grated metal walkway with the grace of a sack of wet cement. He groaned, trying to push himself up. "My… everything…"
He didn't get far. A weight settled on his back, pressing him flat again.
"Uncle Tazuna, you okay?" Ren asked cheerfully, stepping off him.
Tazuna turned his head, his glasses cracked, his expression one of profound betrayal and physical agony. "Young man… please… have mercy. Kato's men might kill me, but you… you're going to disassemble me."
[Pure Land Live Stream – Chat Log]
[VIP5, Admin: Tobirama Senju]: By the Sage! The host is using the elderly as projectile weapons and stepping stools! Show some restraint!
[Host: Ren Arakawa]: Restraint gets people cooked. Would you prefer a well-mannered corpse?
[VIP1: Minato Namikaze]: Tactically, it was sound. The Hiraishin beacon on the client was a brilliant improvisation. He saved them both.
[Host: Ren Arakawa]: See? The professional approves.
[VIP5, Admin: Tobirama Senju]: Of course he approves! You're using his technique! You're his psychic progeny!
[Regular: Hyūga Hizashi]: Wait, how did he teleport? He didn't throw a marker kunai.
[VIP1: Minato Namikaze]: He tagged Tazuna. The client is the marker. Wherever you throw the client, you have an instant extraction point. It's… elegantly ruthless.
[Regular: Yūhi Kurenai]: The Flying Thunder God… used with such… pragmatic disregard for dignity. It's horrifyingly effective.
[VIP1: Minato Namikaze]: Thank you. At the Battle of Kannabi Bridge, a similar principle allowed me to eliminate fifty Iwa-nin in the time it takes to blink.
[Regular: Hyūga Hizashi]: The Yellow Flash indeed!
[VIP2: Third Raikage]: A technique worthy of respect! Even I must acknowledge its battlefield dominance!
[Regular: Senju Hashirama]: Oh! Fourth, you perfected Tobirama's jutsu!
[VIP1: Minato Namikaze]: I simply applied focused effort, First Hokage.
[VIP5, Admin: Tobirama Senju]: 'Focused effort'? Are you implying my effort was lacking?
[VIP1: Minato Namikaze]: Not at all! Your genius laid the foundation! I merely… built a slightly more user-friendly house upon it!
[VIP5, Admin: Tobirama Senju]: Hmph. Smooth talker. No wonder you survived married life.
On the bridge, Ren's senses were already expanding, Minato's Meditation technique piercing the reforming mist. He found them—two chakra signatures, one a raging, pain-suppressed storm (Zabuza), the other a calm, crystalline stream (Haku), hiding on a half-submerged piling in the lake just off the bridge.
Fwip-fwip-fwip!
A whisper of cold air. Dozens of senbon, forged from ice so pure they were nearly invisible, shot from the mist behind Ren. They didn't whistle; they hissed with cold.
Ren didn't turn. His hand blurred, a single kunai flashing out. Ting-ting-ting-ting! A rapid-fire staccato like wind chimes made of glass. Every single ice needle was deflected, shattered against the wall, or spun harmlessly away.
In the mist, Haku's eyes widened fractionally. In this visibility… with a single blade…?
"Ai! My foot! Cold! So cold!" Tazuna howled, clutching his instep. One of the deflected senbon had pierced clean through his shoe and foot, pinning it to the metal grating. Frost instantly crept from the wound, encasing his foot in a glittering, painful shell.
Ren glanced over. "Don't panic. Ice-release senbon. Worst case, the nerves freeze and they have to amputate. You won't die from it." He gave Tazuna's shoulder a reassuring pat.
Tazuna stared at him, his face a mask of tearful, frostbitten horror. Amputate?! You call that 'won't die'?!
From the lake, voices carried on the damp air, clearly meant to be heard.
"Bai, don't underestimate him."
"I understand, Zabuza-sama."
"Kakashi could be here any minute. We end this together. Now."
"As you command."
Ren's mind raced. Psychological pressure. They want me rattled, to make a mistake. And they were right to. Protecting a screaming, wounded civilian against two coordinated, high-level killers—one a master of silent assassination, the other a long-range ice-artillery piece—was a losing proposition. The mission reward was still unclaimed. Letting Tazuna die now was bad business.
Fine. If I can't fight them both here while babysitting… I'll change the venue. And the babysitter.
His hands moved in a blur, hurling a spread of a dozen standard kunai in a high arc towards the lake where the chakra signatures lurked.
From the water, a flash of massive steel. Zabuza's Executioner's Blade swept in a wide arc, batting the kunai away with contemptuous ease. "A sensor? Interesting…" Zabuza's voice grunted.
But in the moment the massive sword was extended, its wielder slightly off-balance, Ren vanished.
He reappeared not on the bridge, but in the water, directly in front of Zabuza and Haku. His hand shot out and clamped onto the flat of the Executioner's Blade itself, right next Zabuza's grip.
Zabuza's one visible eye went wide with shock. How—?!
Ren met his gaze, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Free demo," he said. "Experience the thrill of instant battlefield relocation!"
Flying Thunder God Technique!
The world twisted, compressed, and snapped back into focus with a nauseating lurch.
Zabuza stumbled, the solid wood of a small, weathered outhouse under his feet instead of water. The salt air was gone, replaced by the smell of damp earth, fish, and… something else. Something organic and faintly foul.
He was in the fishing village. In front of Tazuna's toolshed. No… the outdoor toilet.
"Kakashi-sensei!" Ren's voice called out, bright and mocking. "Special delivery! Come greet your guest!"
And then Ren was gone again, the pop of his departure lost in Zabuza's disoriented snarl.
Inside the outhouse, Kakashi Hatake, pants around his ankles, deeply engrossed in a well-thumbed copy of Icha Icha Paradise, froze. The familiar, terrifying, blood-soaked chakra signature that just materialized outside was unmistakable.
It was Zabuza Momochi's.
Kakashi's single visible eye dilated. The book slipped from his fingers.
His world, for the first time in years, did not make sense.
ヽ(｀Д´)ﾉ︵┻━┻┻━┻
The chapter ended with Kakashi trapped in a literal and metaphorical shitty situation, Zabuza confused and furious outside the door, Ren vanished, and Tazuna alone on a burning bridge with a frostbitten foot, staring at the mist where a thousand ice needles were already beginning to form anew, aimed directly at him.
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