Naruto : Infinite Buff!

Amidst the whispering leaves, three silhouettes stood on the thick branches of an ancient tree, their figures motionless as they observed the battlefield below.

The twins stood side by side, but it was the third,the silent one: who stood slightly ahead.

Aoki.

His wild black hair shifted slightly in breeze, eyes sharp and unreadable. He did not move, nor did he speak. His presence alone dictated authority—a quiet force that neither needed nor sought validation.

To his right, Akihiko, the cautious one, narrowed his eyes. His breath was slow, measured, as he took in the scene below. His voice broke the silence, low and analytical. "Seven dead."

His gaze lingered on the bodies strewn across the clearing, they are chunin level, men who should have been more than enough to handle a single opponent. Yet, the boy standing amidst the carnage remained untouched.

"This guy... he killed them all too easily," Akihiko continued, his tone steady but edged with unease. "He's dangerous."

A scoff broke the tension.

Akira, the arrogant one, exhaled sharply, his short white hair catching the moonlight. He crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Tch. What's so dangerous about him? He just got lucky." He leaned forward slightly, a smirk curling his lips. "Those guys were weak. Look at them."

Akihiko didn't reply immediately, his eyes fixed on Amatsu's posture, the way he stood amidst the bodies, calm and deliberate. Every slight shift in his stance carried intention.

Unnatural. Controlled. Precise.

"You call that luck?" Akihiko finally said, his voice quieter now. "Look at the way he stands. It's like he's waiting for something."

"Whatever," Akira dismissed, waving a hand lazily. "He's just some overhyped punk. We've faced tougher opponents. We'll take him down easy."

Akihiko's jaw tightened. "Yeah, if we don't underestimate him."

"Come on, lighten up!" Akira said with a grin, throwing a playful jab at his brother's shoulder. "We've got the numbers. He's one guy. You're acting like we've never cleaned up a mess like this before."

Akihiko shot him a wary glance but said nothing. His unease wasn't just about numbers—it was the boy's presence, the calculated stillness that Akira was too blind to see.

But Aoki said nothing.

His sharp eyes dissected everything.

The bodies, the boy's stance, the faint movements in his breathing. His thoughts were his own, and they moved like clockwork, cold and methodical.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and tense, before Aoki finally turned. No words. Just a flick of his wrist.

"Let's go," he said, his voice low, steady, and final.

"Wait, what? Just like that?" Akira asked, his tone incredulous. "You're actually taking this seriously?"

Aoki's gaze shifted to him, sharp as a blade. "We're not here to play games."

Akira groaned, rolling his eyes but falling in step. "Fine, fine. But I still think this is overkill."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," Akihiko muttered under his breath, a faint edge of sarcasm in his tone. He followed without hesitation, his eyes flicking one last time to the corpses below. The unease didn't leave him.

The three stepped off the branches in unison, their figures descending like shadows.

Three silhouettes emerged from the veil of the forest, their forms cutting through the fog like blades through flesh. Older. Taller. Their movements were smooth, deliberate, and unhurried, like predators sizing up their prey.

They didn't flinch at the sight of the dead. The bodies scattered around the clearing barely drew their attention. Their expressions remained placid, almost amused, as if the carnage was nothing more than a passing curiosity.

Akira tilted his head, his short silver hair gleaming in the moonlight. A sly smile tugged at his lips, sharp and mocking. "Not bad," he murmured, his voice smooth and taunting. "For a stray."

Amatsu's eyes flicked to them, his expression blank, unreadable. He didn't reply.

Akira clicked his tongue, clearly unimpressed by the lack of reaction. "What? No clever comeback? You're really just gonna stand there?" He grinned wider, crossing his arms. "This'll be easier than I thought."

"Akira," Akihiko said sharply, but his brother only shrugged.

"What? I'm just saying. Look at him," Akira continued, gesturing lazily toward Amatsu. "He's just a kid standing in a pile of bodies. Bet he thinks that makes him scary or something."

Akihiko ignored him, his focus entirely on Amatsu. He studied the boy's stance again, the way his hands rested at his sides, loose but prepared. The faint tension in his frame spoke of readiness, of someone who was already calculating his next move.

"He's not normal," Akihiko muttered, almost to himself. "Don't let your guard down."

"Oh, please," Akira shot back, rolling his eyes. "You sound like Dad. 'Don't let your guard down.' 'Take it seriously.' Blah, blah, blah. Can we just get this over with? I'm bored."

Aoki, still silent, took a single step forward. His presence alone was enough to quiet the bickering. His sharp eyes locked onto Amatsu, dissecting him with ruthless precision. He didn't speak, but the weight of his gaze carried everything unspoken.

The tension was suffocating.

Akira cracked his knuckles, his grin turning feral. "Let's see if this kid can back up all that bravado," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"Stay sharp," Akihiko warned, his tone low and focused. "He's not just some random target."

"Relax, we got this!" Akira snapped, his cocky grin plastered back on his face. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Aoki's voice cut through, cold and steady. "Stop talking."

Akira clenched his jaw, muttering something under his breath, but he fell silent. Aoki didn't look at them again. His attention was entirely on Amatsu.

No hesitation. No fear.

The one in the center stepped forward, exuding an air of authority that demanded attention. Broad shoulders filled out his dark clothing, and every movement was calculated, confident.

This one was the leader.

He met Amatsu's gaze—

And grinned, a predator sizing up its prey.

"Now then," he said

"Shall we begin?"

Aoki stepped forward first, his sharp gaze fixed on Amatsu. He didn't speak—he didn't need to. A slight tilt of his fingers, and his brothers moved.

Akihiko's hands blurred into a flurry of hand seals—Tiger → Ox → Ram → Dog → Boar—his chakra surged, and the clearing was swallowed by a rolling veil of thick mist.

Hidden Mist Jutsu.

The world dissolved into vapor. Sight crippled. Sound amplified. A battlefield of ghosts.

Akira's voice was a whisper in the fog, mocking. "Let's see if you can survive this."

A flicker of lightning chakra crackled through the haze. The air thickened with the scent of ozone. Akira's fingers danced through Tiger → Ram → Bird, the fog around Amatsu hissed and ionized.

Lightning Release: Thunder Shockwave

A blinding land of electricity tore through the mist, aiming straight for Amatsu's position. But the strike hit only earth. A flicker of motion—a ghost in the mist—Amatsu had already moved.

Akira clicked his tongue. "Fast."

Water pooled beneath the mist, creeping unnaturally. A trap.

Aoki's voice, low and lethal, whispered through the fog.

"Too slow."

The puddles erupted, serpentine tendrils of water snapping toward Amatsu like coiling vipers. Aoki's Water Release: Binding Serpent.

Tactical. Merciless.

The moment Amatsu dodged the lightning, he stepped into the water—predictable movement, anticipated by Aoki's strategy. The water tendrils lunged, aiming to bind him, locking him in place for the kill.

A perfect trap.

Or so they thought.

A shadow flickered. Amatsu wasn't there.

A sudden, eerie stillness. Then—

Akihiko felt it first. A presence behind him.

Too late.

A flash of steel. A kunai pressed against his throat.

Amatsu's breath was steady, cold.

"interesting ."

Akihiko stiffened, his mind racing. Impossible. He moved through the mist... without sound? Without chakra disturbances?

Silent Killing?

A technique born from true killers, one that required no sight. Only instinct. Only precision.

Akira reacted, Lightning-imbued kunai slicing through the fog—but Amatsu's grip tightened, and with a fluid motion, he twisted Akihiko into the attack's path.

Akihiko barely managed to shift, the crackling blade grazing his shoulder instead of impaling his throat. A hiss of pain—but no time to recover.

Amatsu was already gone, slipping into the mist like a phantom.

Akira snarled, frustration flaring. "FUCKK—fucking coward! Fight properly!"

Aoki's hand rose—Tiger → Snake → Ram → Boar—his chakra surged, and the mist thickened, turning viscous.

Water Release: Heavy Mist Field.

It dragged at movement, slowing everything inside. A perfect counter to Silent Killing.

Aoki's voice was steel. "You can't run anymore."

Akihiko, bleeding but still composed, wiped his lip. "He's forcing us to waste chakra. He's testing us."

"Then we kill him now."

Akira's Lightning Release flared again, his fingers forming Horse → Dragon → Snake, the fog illuminated by a sudden, violent glow.

Lightning Release: Cage Strike.

Lightning arced outward, creating a web of electrified chakra lines. The moment Amatsu touched one, his body would be fried from the inside out.

Akira grinned, his confidence returning. "Checkmate, little rat."

Silence.

Then—a flicker.

Aoki's eyes sharpened. No...

Something was wrong.

A shadow detached from the mist.

Moving too fast.

The web of lightning split apart a kunai, thrown with deadly precision, severed the chakra points holding it together. A calculated counter.

Amatsu emerged behind Akira, already in motion.

Akira turned—

A knee drove into his ribs, the impact folding him like paper. A sickening crack.

Akihiko and Aoki moved.

But Amatsu was faster.

His heel slammed into Akihiko's wounded shoulder, sending him sprawling. A burst of mist curled around Amatsu's retreating form, and he was gone again.

Aoki exhaled slowly, assessing the battlefield.

"...He's dismantling us."

Akira coughed blood, his hands trembling from the impact. "H-he's just—lucky—"

"No." Aoki's gaze remained fixed on the mist, where Amatsu's presence flickered in and out, a phantom dancing between the threads of their strategies.

"He's strong."

---

Beyond the battlefield, hidden among the trees, Higanbana watched with wide, fearful eyes.

Her fingers trembled as she unfurled the scroll in her lap, inked symbols glowing faintly under the three shadows. 

Chakra Control.

She had never felt so useless.

Amatsu was fighting three monsters-stronger than any enemy before. Strong enough to kill jonin.

She clenched her fists, desperate.

Her voice was a whisper, shaking. "Please... please work..."

She had no choice.

She had to help him.

Her trembling hands unfurled the worn scroll, its inked diagrams and instructions blurring before her eyes. The words swam in her vision, but she forced herself to focus.

Chakra control... if I can just...