Seek and you shall find. While Kakashi was fighting, Takeshi wasn't idle, cutting down several enemy chunin.
As a result, they all now saw him as the priority target.
Takeshi, katana drawn, felt the tension in his muscles. That fateful night of the ambush had come right after he provoked those guys by killing three of their comrades—he had almost died afterward. Was it a curse?
Five chunin, masked faces, surrounded him, their seals already formed. Those cowardly bastards had targeted him, hoping to take him down by surprise.
Big mistake. Takeshi, face still stoic, fixed his eyes—now glowing with a wild light—on the group, who suddenly felt an eerie sensation.
"You're done for, you lousy samurai!" one chunin spat, slamming his hands to the ground. The earth roared as a torrent of mud surged forward, slick and spiked with stone.
Takeshi leapt, his katana slicing the air. The blade shimmered, cutting through the spikes like paper. But a second chunin joined in, combining his jutsu. Stone spears shot up from the ground, synchronized with the mud, aiming for his legs. Takeshi rolled, one spear grazing his calf, blood splashing onto the earth.
"Not bad, clowns," he growled, forming a quick seal. "You think I'm alone too."
Two shadow clones appeared, katanas drawn, their movements perfectly timed. The chunin hesitated for a split second—just enough for Takeshi to charge.
His left clone slashed at the first ninja, the blade carving a deep wound from chest to shoulder. Blood sprayed, bright red, soaking the grass.
The man screamed and collapsed, his guts halfway out.
But the other four reacted quickly. Two combined a jutsu:
"Earth Style: Stone Wall!"
A wall of stone rose, while a third summoned a mud golem, three meters tall, fists like boulders.
The fourth threw poison-coated shuriken at the clones.
"Too predictable."
With a swift motion, Takeshi deflected the projectiles with his katana, though one clone took a slash to the arm—black blood flowed before it vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Damn, you guys hit hard!" Takeshi said, dodging a blow from the golem. He could handle one of these idiots easily, but when several teamed up, things got tougher.
The ground trembled, cracks opening beneath his feet. He jumped, his second clone covering his back, blocking a stone spike with its katana.
Clang! Clang!
The blade screeched, sparks flying. Takeshi dove toward a chunin, his blade aiming for the throat. The ninja blocked with a mud shield, but Takeshi shattered his guard with a kick. His katana sank into the man's collarbone, a wet crunch echoing.
Blood splashed his face, hot and metallic. The chunin collapsed, gurgling, a red puddle spreading beneath him.
"You guys are no match," he smirked, his grin feral.
The golem charged, fists smashing the ground. Takeshi formed another clone, which intercepted with katana raised. The blade sliced off one of the monster's fingers, mud spurting like pus. But one chunin used the distraction to combine a jutsu with another.
Stone chains burst forth, wrapping around Takeshi's legs. He growled, his katana slashing at the bindings—but not fast enough.
"Not so cocky now, bastard!"
A stone spear struck his shoulder, tearing through muscle and tendon. Blood gushed down his arm, the pain burning like a branding iron.
"Die." he muttered, the grin fading.
He summoned three shadow clones. The situation had escalated. The clearing turned into a blood-soaked chaos.
One clone gutted a chunin, intestines spilling out like slimy ropes. Another severed a ninja's leg—bone snapped clean, the scream piercing the air.
The golem crushed a clone, reducing it to smoke, but Takeshi, furious, leapt onto the monster. His katana, now charged with chakra, sliced off the golem's head, mud exploding like a wave.
The last chunin, panicked, attempted a desperate jutsu: a stone dome to shield himself. Takeshi, drenched in blood—his own and others'—shattered the dome with a brutal katana strike.
Stone exploded, and his blade met the ninja's throat. A crimson jet burst forth, the head half-detached, dangling loosely. The body dropped, twitching.
Takeshi, panting, leaned on his katana. The clearing was a slaughterhouse: mutilated bodies, severed limbs, pools of blood mixed with mud. His shoulder was pouring blood, his breath ragged. He spat a red glob, then wiped his blade on his tattered sleeve.
"Amateurs," he muttered, limping away, leaving behind a sticky silence and the stench of death.
On the other side, Naruto had finally accepted reality. With Rasengan in hand, he destroyed everything in his path—protecting Sakura and Mei in the process.
As for Kakashi, he dealt with another rather tough enemy, draining what was left of his chakra.