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Chapter 78 Palms of Steel
🕑 Added 2025-07-02 13:21:40 +0000 UTCHe pressed me harder now, more aggressively. I could feel it in the shift of his footwork—less patience, more edge. His blade moved faster, the wind thicker with each swing, desperate to cover ground I wouldn’t give him.
He was getting frustrated.
I couldn’t blame him; he no doubt expected an easy win. He was picked because he countered the Gentle Fist, but clearly, he hadn’t expected me.
Now I admit, I was cheating, because I couldn’t use the Gentle Fist to protect my hands from both wind and steel, that just wasn’t possible. While it was possible to just touch the sides of his blade, it was difficult.
After all, he was working very hard to make sure I couldn’t do that. Yet, somehow, I hadn’t lost my fingers yet, something he attributed to pure luck, but that was just because he couldn’t understand why I kept pushing back.
His sword flashed towards me, again and again, it was a blur, it flashed so many times in so little time it almost seemed like a dozen swords were coming at me all at once, but all of them were faced with a fist or finger from me.
I blocked each of his attacks, and he had to defend against my follow-up, because I had two hands striking at him, and he only had one blade.
“You are slowing,” I said as I kept pushing him. His breathing might be steady, he might look calm, but I could see his chakra, and he was getting tired.
“I’m just saving my energy for fucking you once I cut your arms down to size,” he hissed angrily as he tried to push me even harder. His blade flashing, the wind around it sharp and roaring.
Yet, my palms glowing with chakra calmed the roaring winds and turned deadly blasts into harmless gusts as I parried his blade, pushing it back as if my hands were steel.
“How are you doing it?!” He roared in disbelief, sweat flinging from his brow as his blade screamed down toward my chest.
“I’m just that good.” I said as I stepped back and struck his sword again.
“No one is that good, you are cheating somehow.” He growled angrily, as if cheating was somehow not allowed in a fight to the death.
Or worse, because he wasn’t planning something far worse than death for me should he win.
The wind he was throwing around was causing my hair to dance around behind me. I was tempted to try to use it against him, but I didn’t think it was needed. The current rhythm was going well, no need to change it.
Though I needed to end this sooner rather than later, because the fights around me weren’t going that well.
While I could go for a while longer, the others… they didn’t have minutes left to spare, so I needed to push this to another level, and finish this once and for all, and I was ready.
Sazanami came at me again, blade high—twisting low with a backstep meant to bait me into a forward rush. I didn’t take it.
Instead, I did something unexpected, something reckless, but now, he wasn’t able to respond to it, too caught up in the rhythm, too distracted by his own growing anger.
I gripped the blade of the sword.
I could see how his eyes widened in shock, because it felt crazy, he should be able to easily cut my fingers off, and win. A rocky mistake, really.
But it was no mistake, I felt the sharp edge of the blade cut into my palm, but it didn’t go deeper, it stopped as my blood flowed down the sharp edge, and then, I twisted.
I poured chakra into my grip, not to reinforce, not to block—but to disrupt. Gentle Fist wasn’t just for striking. It was for damage. Internal. Subtle. Precise.
The pulse of chakra that ran through my palm cracked into the blade like a lightning bolt in slow motion.
Ping.
The hum of the wind technique faltered. Wavered.
Sazanami’s eyes widened further.
Crack.
A fracture formed—just above the guard, where I had been aiming with every deflection, every redirect, every feint.
“You—”
Snap.
The sword broke.
Clean through.
I gripped the top half of the blade that spiraled through the air. Once more, the sharpness cut into my flesh and skin, and in one movement, I swept the sword at him.
Sazanami was shocked at what had happened, and a moment too late to react, instantly, his own sword came at him, and he only managed to lean back at the last moment, keeping his head, but still a thin cut on his throat.
Blood bloomed across his neck—just a line. Shallow. Superficial.
But enough.
He stumbled back, clutching at his throat. Not from pain, but from the shock and surprise. He hadn’t seen that coming, and now he would pay for it.
“You bitch,” he rasped, breath catching.
Without the extra reach of his blade, he couldn’t keep me out of range, and I pushed my attack. But I didn’t attack with my palms, he expected that.
Instead, I kicked, my leg moved in a flash, instantly slamming my foot into his guts. His body bent as his feet were lifted off the water, and he shot backwards.
He hit the water hard, skidding across it with a splash, coughing violently.
But he didn’t sink. Didn’t go down.
His knees hit the shallows, and he caught himself, barely upright. One hand clutched his gut, the other pressed to his neck, smearing blood. His broken sword sinking into the water.
Yet still… he laughed.
A dry, broken, wheezing sound.
“You think this is over?” he spat. “You think you’ve won?”
I prepared to move, to continue and finish him off, but he surprised me. I expected him to go back at me, try to fight back, because, other than the sword, I had dealt very little real damage to him.
Sure, the cut was bleeding, the kick likely hurt, but it didn’t do much more than that. He could keep fighting, he was far from beaten, yet, he didn’t shoot towards me, but shot backwards, away from me.
And while he did wave hand signs, they didn’t belong to an offensive ninjutsu; no, he body flickered away from me. Backwards.
Fleeing.
I didn’t chance it, I could, but that could be a trap, and he wasn’t moving towards where Haruto was fighting.
So I had to just accept the fact that he was fleeing. And well, even though it was unexpected, I accepted it.
I didn’t waste a second.
The moment Sazanami vanished, I turned—Byakugan still blazing—and shot toward Arata.
He was barely standing.
His arm hung limp at his side, torn up from shoulder to wrist, and blood painted streaks down his back and legs. He had retreated into a half-flooded grove of trees, using the waterlogged terrain to slow down Kasui’s assault.
Yomei Kasui—cruel, brutal, precise. Her fans danced like silver lightning, carving the air around her with savage arcs of wind. I watched as one sweep of her fan shattered a tree trunk just above Arata’s head. He ducked in time, but the strain showed.
I was already closing the gap.
He didn’t see me at first—his attention fully locked on his opponent. But she saw me. Her head twitched, body pivoting to put Arata between us.
Smart.
I didn’t give her the chance to reset.
“Down!” I shouted.
Arata dropped.
I slid across the water, low and fast, and unleashed a burst of chakra through my palm as I struck upward.
She blocked with her fans and jumped backwards, lessening the force of my strike. All in all, she did a masterful job of defending herself.
She also managed to create more distance between us as I remained protectively next to Arata, who struggled to get back up; his entire body was covered in blood.
“Damn, you really beat that creep Sazanami?” She asked clearly shocked, “And he didn’t even warn us, fucking bastard.” She spat, clearly having no respect for him, not that I blamed her.
“Too bad, I liked carving up my latest piece, but it seems I won’t be able to; you look more than able to keep fighting.” She continued as she looked at me.
“Then you best leave, or I won’t let you.” I said that because while I wanted to end her, I couldn’t really afford to start another fight, now that both Haruto and Koji still needed help.
She gave me a long, considering look—then sighed and rolled her shoulder with an audible crack.
“Fine,” she said, like a child denied a toy. “Wasn’t worth finishing him off anyway.”
Kasui flicked her fans once, wind chakra sparking faintly across their edges. But instead of pressing the fight, she turned her back on us and began to walk, leisurely, like she had all the time in the world.
“You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood,” she called over her shoulder. “And tell the dog boy I would’ve flayed his mutt too, if I had the time.”
I didn’t respond. I just stood there, between her and Arata, waiting until she was gone.
Only once she disappeared into the tree line did I lower my arms and drop to one knee.
“Can you stand?” I asked softly.
Arata hissed as he forced himself up. “Barely. But I’ll live.”
“Good,” I said. “I need you to stay alert, we can’t trust her, and I need to go help the others, stay close, but not too far.”
He gave a weak nod. “Be careful, Yuki. They’re… they’re monsters.”
I gave him a faint smile. “So are we.”
Then I was gone—sliding back over the lake’s surface, moving fast toward the next fight. Koji had finished off one puppet, but it hadn’t ended the fight, no, it had only gotten more heated from then.
Kiso had been angry when one of his favorite puppets had been destroyed, and he started taking the fight more seriously. He had changed to using a few other puppets, one at his feet for defense, and two others for offense, allowing him to push both Koji and Kuro at once.
Those new puppets were monsters.
They were all weapons and no elegance, sharp and deadly, nearly impossible to fight in taijutsu. And while likely weak against ninjutsu, it wasn’t like Kuro could do any of that.
That and all kinds of nasty traps and tricks, such as horrible-smelling powers and gases, were made to be Koji’s nightmare.
Thankfully, they weren’t made for facing me.
While I would have liked to finish off Kiso himself, the puppet master wasn’t foolish; he had been paying attention to the rest of us and knew I was coming, so he was already pulling back, throwing a wave of explosive tags my way to give him time.
“Yuki!” Koji called out as I approached, happy to see me unhurt. And eager to kill the puppet master, wanting to team up with me for a chance, that, however, wasn’t in the cards.
“I handled my fight. Arata’s alive. We need to help Haruto now.”
Koji nodded immediately, no argument. Kuro barked once and started moving. We followed.
No words needed.
Haruto was still holding out—but the forest was scorched in places, soaked in others, and I could already sense his chakra dipping low. The enemy was relentless.
Honestly, even without my Byakugan or Koji’s nose, finding Haruto wouldn’t be difficult, just follow the sounds.
“Pincer him, I want at least one of them dead, and if it can’t be the others, this guy will have to do.” I told Koji as we moved.
“I want them all dead, but yeah, one is better than none.” He agreed as he flashed forward with me.
(End of chapter)
