After another half hour of nonstop pursuit, Hide was on the verge of collapse from exhaustion. Fleeing at max speed was worlds apart from leisurely marches on routine travels. To his dismay, his pursuers showed no fatigue whatsoever, launching surprise attacks more frequently, adding several shuriken wounds to the hapless Chunin's back.
Eighth was consumed by massive thrill and refused to let the enemy—who was about to drop from exhaustion—escape. The younger team members suggested breaking off the chase several times, but the heady rush of success clouded his vision, overriding all risks and dangers.
Unfortunately, luck deserted Hide at the very last moment. When only about fifteen kilometers remained to his destination, a shuriken struck his thigh dead-on, ending his escape.
The elated members of Team Three pounced on the enemy, cutting off his retreat. Hide barely parried the first strikes after his wound and burrowed deep underground, frantically pondering his next move.
He didn't know how far the Green Palm mercenary group's base was, but he expended massive Chakra to send a powerful impulse through the earth, summoning their aid. It was his only shot at survival, and he seized any chance to live.
"He sent a distress call! Maybe we should retreat while we can?" Twenty-Fifth asked mentally. He hated taking risks, but the commander had the final say.
"That's probably a bluff. Who'd help him in this backwater? No one will notice that impulse fifty kilometers away!" Eighth declared, ordering his brothers to fall back as he formed hand seals.
"Raiton: Raigeki!" he roared, forming seals with one hand and plunging the crackling blade straight into the ground.
Chaotic lightning shattered the rock beneath, pulverizing and scattering vast amounts of earth. After Eighth's technique, a massive hole gaped in the ground, but luckily for Hide, Eighth wasn't masterful enough with Lightning Release to reach him on the first try. Still, he didn't stop—every few seconds came thunderous blasts accompanied by the eerie buzz of relentless lightning.
Hide couldn't burrow too deep, as it required immense Chakra control to compensate for depth and ensure fresh air flow. He could only dart side to side at ten-meter depth. Twenty-Sixth saw every move perfectly and relayed precise positions to his brother—Hide's defeat was imminent.
Only thanks to Kenshin finally developing the Chakra transmission formation could Eighth spam this Chakra-intensive Lightning technique without restraint. Though his own reserves drained fast, Chakra slowly transferred from his younger brothers, converting to his own with minor losses. Sadly, Kenshin hadn't managed to create the ultra-complex array for auto-drawing ambient Chakra. His formation skills weren't advanced enough for Senjutsu Chakra research without any knowledge of it.
Matsuda Yoshio had just finished his maintenance workout cycle and was relaxing with his two best friends. The table overflowed with food and booze, and four women kept the burly, bearded men company.
At forty, Yoshio boasted iron health and considerable strength. As a two-meter-tall, extremely powerful Jonin, he terrified everyone around him, quelling any disobedience in his mercenary group with his mere presence.
The Green Palm leader was hot-tempered and often overstepped bounds, dealing with the uncooperative and essentially turning to brigandage. While nearly all mercenary groups from other lands did the same to peasants, Yoshio went further, doing things that would make him a Rogue Shinobi elsewhere.
Luckily for him, the Land of Grass endured a years-long crisis and couldn't boast ironclad order. Without sovereignty guarantees from other great nations, Yoshio might have seized total power—officially, the country had no Elite Jonin.
"Boss, Hide's calling for help—he's about ten kilometers east," a twenty-year-old boy reported, rushing to the veranda.
"Which Hide?" Yoshio asked irritably.
"Sakamoto Hide—you personally invited him to join us," the short-haired guy with a scruffy beard replied respectfully.
"Slippery Hide? For sure?" Yoshio asked, turning serious, and got an affirmative nod.
"I'll go check what mess that idiot's in. Don't wander off—back soon," he said with a grin to his comrades, hastily assembling a five-man group and bolting to the spot.
The situation didn't faze him at all—in the Land of Grass, he felt right at home, with no one to make him afraid.
By the time Matsuda Yoshio arrived with four others, the fight was nearly over. They'd long smoked Hide out of the ground, and he held only thanks to his incredible talent in purely defensive Earth Release.
"STAND DOWN!" Yoshio bellowed, and Eighth, spotting the insanely dangerous foe, ordered his men to halt and assume defensive positions.
"Not bad—they roughed you up good, slippery," Yoshio laughed, noting each attacker was at least a Chunin.
"Y-Yoshio-san! A bit more and..." Hide started, lunging toward his saviors on his last strength.
"Shut it," Yoshio cut him off, viewing him as a lifelong future group member. He shifted his gaze to the standout Eighth amid the group and asked: "Who are you?"
"We're members of the Nakayama Family, sir," Eighth replied respectfully. He'd berated himself a hundred times for rashness and felt the entire squad's fate now hung in the balance.
"I-I've heard of them!" ground-sitting Hide spat. "They're Konoha lapdogs, killing our brothers!" he raged. Over the past half-year, Kenshin had built the organization's prestige, with all four teams doing at least one mission weekly, earning fame as one of the most active mercenary groups.
"Not our brothers—yours. My Green Palm has nothing to do with Rogue Shinobi," Yoshio replied. He always hated his group's status being demeaned and didn't want it seen as a Rogue haven.