The red-garbed shinobi stood frozen, their masked faces snapping toward the newcomer who had appeared behind them.
Their was tension as the Hand's hands twitched toward their weapons—swords, chains, and sickles glinting with lethal intent.
No words, no questions. The Hand shinobi moved as one, their bodies coiling like springs, and Kakashi sighed, his breath a faint puff beneath his mask. "They really are like Danzō's puppets," he muttered, his tone dry but laced with resignation.
"Mission-focused, no hesitation. Anyone who sees them in action is a threat, and since I caught them in the act, I'm the threat. Not even a hello. Oh well, it's been a while since I stretched my muscles. Let's hope I haven't lost my edge."
Four of the Hand shinobi leaped to the rooftop above, their chakra control (chi control same shit) allowing them to stick to the walls like spiders.
They nocked arrows, their bows drawn with mechanical precision, and loosed a volley at Kakashi. The remaining three on the ground fanned out, swords and chains at the ready, their movements eerily synchronized.
Kakashi's hands blurred, weaving signs with a speed that defied human limits—Boar, Ram, Dog, Dragon.
"Earth Style: Mud Wall!" he called, his voice steady. Chakra surged, and the ground beneath him rumbled as a thick wall of earth erupted, its surface carved with snarling hounds. The arrows thudded harmlessly into the barrier, their tips embedding in the dense mud.
The Hand shinobi froze, their masked faces betraying surprise despite their stoic training.
'No ninjutsu in their arsenal like I guessed,' Kakashi noted. The wall's sudden appearance had thrown them off, a clear sign they'd never encountered techniques like his.
'They're fast, strong, but ignorant of jutsu.'
A sword-wielding shinobi lunged from the side, his blade arcing toward Kakashi's neck. Kakashi sidestepped with effortless grace, his body flowing like water, and drove his knee into the man's gut. The shinobi doubled over, gasping, and Kakashi's kunai flashed, slicing cleanly across his throat.
Blood sprayed, but Kakashi was already moving, his eye catching the glint of another sword slashing toward him.
He parried with his kunai, the metal sparking as it met the Hand's blade. The shinobi pressed forward, but Kakashi's free hand wove signs—Ox, Tiger, Snake. "Wind Style: Breakthrough!" he exhaled, turning his head to aim the gust away from the swordsman and toward two other Hand members rushing him.
A torrent of cutting wind roared through the alley, slamming the shinobi into the brick wall with bone-crunching force. Their bodies crumpled, gashes crisscrossing their red shozoku.
Kakashi kept his movements precise and avoided using any Lightning or Fire Style jutsu. They were too flashy.
This world's people notice explosions and sparks. Hell's Kitchen was no stranger to violence, but a lightning storm or fireball would draw cops, cameras, or other gang members. He wanted to keep this quiet.
The swordsman still pressed against Kakashi's kunai, his strength impressive for a genin-level fighter. Kakashi parried, redirecting the blade, and slashed his kunai across the man's throat in a single, fluid motion.
The shinobi collapsed, and Kakashi spun, his eye catching another volley of arrows from the rooftop archers. 'Persistent' He thought as he dodged the arrows or aprried some with the kunai.
Two more Hand shinobi darted forward, chains whipping through the air to bind him. The metal links coiled around his arms.
Kakashi's lips quirked beneath his mask. He executed an advanced Rope Escape Technique. His form shimmered, slipping through the chains as if they were smoke, and he landed lightly on his feet.
"Well, a little lightning won't catch too much attention," he muttered, grabbing the trailing chains. Chakra sparked, and he pushed a pulse of Lightning Style through the metal, the current racing along the links. The two shinobi holding the chains convulsed, their bodies frying as the electricity coursed through them.
They collapsed, smoke rising from their singed shozoku, and Kakashi dropped the chains with a faint clink.
His gaze flicked to the rooftop, where the four archers were nocking another volley.
'Enough of this.' His hands formed a single sign—Ram—and he locked eyes with them.
"Demonic Illusion: Hell Viewing Technique," he whispered. The genjutsu took hold instantly, the archers' bows falling as their minds were plunged into visions of their deepest fears. They collapsed, unconscious, their bodies slumping as they fell down with a thump.
"No genjutsu resistance either," he said, his tone analytical. "Either they don't know how to break illusions, or these are the grunts, not trained for advanced techniques. If their leaders expected an ambush, they didn't bother teaching these guys to counter genjutsu. Sloppy." He scanned the alley, his senses sharp for reinforcements.
'Time to go after I clean up here.'
He moved quickly, checking each Hand shinobi's breath. The ones still alive—three, including those caught in the genjutsu—received a swift kunai to the throat. No loose ends.
Kakashi's face remained impassive, but a flicker of unease stirred in his chest.
'Killing without hesitation… I'm not so different from them.'
The thought was fleeting, pushed aside by years of ANBU discipline. A shinobi does what's necessary.
With a final glance at the blood-streaked alley, Kakashi body-flickered, his form vanishing into the night.
Kakashi reappeared on a distant rooftop, his breath steady despite the fight.
'They're not shinobi, not really, but they're dangerous. Their chakra was weak, their skills limited, yet their ruthlessness mirrored the Root operatives he'd known—tools forged for a single purpose. If they're part of a larger organization, I need to know who's pulling the strings before approaching them and their motives. I don't think I would be joining them though.'
What troubled him most was their demeanor. No hesitation, no emotion. Killing was second nature to them, their movements devoid of the subtle tells—tension, adrenaline, guilt—that marked even seasoned shinobi.
Root was the same. Danzō stripped them of individuality, made them machines. If this organisation was structured similarly, with a hidden leader molding these mercenaries, Kakashi was stepping into a deeper game. Troublesome doesn't begin to cover it.
His initial plan—to approach them as a potential ally—had backfired spectacularly. 'Should've known better than to expect a chat.'
For now, he'd regroup with Pakkun and the hounds. They'll have more intel on the this organisation.