"Hoho… boy, who do you think you're fooling?" With a cruel grin, the Sand shinobi known as the Hundred Blade spun his massive sickle, forcing Saitama to leap back. A flicker of satisfaction danced in his eyes.
"Huh?" Saitama's expression tightened. He's seen through me. Indeed, such a feint was child's play in front of a seasoned jōnin.
Crackling arcs of lightning erupted from Saitama's body. Knowing he'd been read, he abandoned subtlety.
"You haven't noticed yet, have you?" The Hundred Blade rested his scythe on his shoulder with a smirk, eyes never leaving Saitama.
Realizing something was off, Saitama frowned. His grip on his blade tightened as his Lightning Chakra Mode surged in intensity.
Wham! A burst of sand erupted as Saitama lunged forward, slashing at his opponent.
But before he could close the gap, he faltered. His chakra stuttered—sluggish, irregular. A sharp tingling sensation shot through his limbs.
"Tch…" Saitama drove his sword into the sand to steady himself, his gaze locked onto the Hundred Blade.
"When did this happen?" he muttered, narrowing his eyes. He focused, slowing the flow of his chakra. The numbing sensation dulled slightly.
"You thought I didn't notice you were trying to wear me down?" the Hundred Blade taunted. "All this time, I've let you circulate your chakra—so my poison could spread faster through your network."
He pointed his sickle at Saitama, confidence radiating from his posture.
A sudden burning pain reminded Saitama of the grazing wound the scythe had left earlier. He touched his cheek—barely a scratch, but it had been enough. Weapons from jōnin… even the slightest cut can be deadly.
He narrowed his eyes at the oversized sickle. Even a single nick from such a weapon could carry lethal consequences.
Pulling his blade from the sand, Saitama steadied himself.
"Now die, kid!" the Hundred Blade roared, dashing forward with murderous speed.
Whoosh! The scythe howled through the air.
Crack! Lightning danced around Saitama's frame as his Sharingan tracked the weapon's arc. With perfect timing, he sidestepped the blade's path and countered.
Clang! The scythe bit deep into Saitama's left shoulder—but he didn't flinch. At the same moment, his sword pierced the Hundred Blade's chest, thunder chakra bursting from the wound.
"Urgh!"
The Hundred Blade's eyes widened in disbelief. "How? You were poisoned…!"
He staggered, strength draining from his limbs. His grip on the scythe slackened.
Bam! Saitama endured the pain and kicked the enemy in the stomach, launching him into the air. Blood dripped from his sword, splattering the sand below.
"Haah… haah…" Saitama knelt, breathing heavily, the enormous sickle still embedded in his shoulder.
"Saitama! Watch out!" Moonlight Masano shouted from the side, having just finished off his opponent. His eyes locked onto a blood-soaked Fujiwara creeping toward the downed Saitama.
Saitama's vision blurred. The poison was spreading fast, muddling his thoughts. He had sensed Fujiwara earlier, but his body refused to move.
"Heh… kid…" Fujiwara staggered, blood soaking his flak jacket. His right hand gripped a kunai that he plunged into Saitama's back, while his other hand seized Saitama's neck.
Thunk! The blade pierced his back, and the jolt snapped Saitama's mind back into focus. His chakra flared.
"I win… in the end…" Fujiwara whispered, breath warm against Saitama's ear.
"No… I win," Saitama growled.
A surge of electricity exploded from his body, electrocuting the enemy at point-blank range.
"Gahhh—!" Fujiwara convulsed violently, unable to escape the blast. His head slumped onto Saitama's shoulder, lifeless.
Saitama sat there, one enemy's sickle still in his shoulder, another's corpse leaning against him.
"Saitama!" Moonlight Masano sprinted over and shoved Fujiwara's body off him. He drove his sword into Fujiwara's chest, just to be sure, then knelt beside Saitama.
"I'm… fine… Captain…" Saitama managed a strained smile.
"Hang in there," Masano said, his voice tight with worry.
Glancing toward the last remaining enemy jōnin—Danryū—Moonlight Masano's expression turned cold. The enemy flinched under his glare. The Sand shinobi were now outnumbered—and one of their comrades was down.
"We're retreating! Muramasa! Murayuki!" Danryū barked, retreating into the night. The others followed. Though they had left wounds on Konoha's forces, they hadn't managed to kill anyone. Their morale cracked.
Moonlight Masano let them go. He was too drained to pursue—and Saitama still needed protection.
As the last enemy vanished, Saitama collapsed forward, finally succumbing to exhaustion and blood loss.
"Captain… help me pull this out," he whispered, eyes fluttering.
Masano grabbed the sickle and yanked it free.
Shhlick! Blood spurted from the wound. Saitama grimaced, but without a word, focused his chakra. Lightning pulsed through the wound, cauterizing it instantly.
He didn't even flinch. He was beyond pain now.
But there was still a kunai in his back. Saitama knew it. He couldn't keep using chakra—it would only accelerate the poison. His vision blurred.
"Cap…tain…" he mumbled, and collapsed unconscious into Masano's arms.
"Samu! Can you move?" Masano called out.
Samu, lying in a pool of blood-stained sand, gave a weak smile. "Still breathing… barely."
Masano's heart ached. Samu wasn't talented, but he was determined. He couldn't leave him behind.
He crouched next to Samu, lifting him into a sitting position. "Don't speak. Save your strength."
Night had fallen. The desert air was cold, the sky blanketed in stars. Only Moonlight Masano still stood, guarding two downed comrades.
"We have to move. Fast. Sand reinforcements could be nearby."
Samu nodded weakly. "I… can manage."
Masano helped him up, draping Samu's arm over his shoulder.
With the twilight deepening around them, the surviving Konoha shinobi disappeared into the desert—bloodied, but alive.
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