"Water Style: Water Dragon Biting Explosion!"
Just as the two water tornadoes seemed to be losing steam, the trap Fumikawa had laid suddenly sprung into its next phase. He wove a rapid string of hand signs, forcing the jutsu to evolve.
The two streams of water, which had appeared spent, suddenly surged with a violent burst of energy. They reared up like striking cobras, intertwining to catch the descending, truly exhausted Aburame Shikuro and launch him high into the air.
Above Shikuro, the twin currents merged into the form of a massive water dragon. It let out a roar that seemed to vibrate through the rain before diving straight down, its liquid jaws "clamping" onto Shikuro's body. Driven by immense momentum, the dragon slammed him into the muddy earth.
Watching this, Fumikawa could no longer suppress the smug grin spreading across his face.
But it lasted barely a second.
The transition happened so fast that only his eyes were able to register the horror of the reality.
The moment the water dragon slammed Shikuro into the ground, his body erupted. Instead of blood and bone, thousands of tiny black insects burst outward, scattered in every direction by the force of the dragon's impact.
Fumikawa, an intelligence specialist, recognized it instantly: the Aburame clan's Secret Technique—the Insect Clone.
Shikuro must have used a Substitution Jutsu earlier and immediately replaced himself with a clone made of bugs to bait him.
Where is the real Shikuro?!
The thought flashed through Fumikawa's mind, but he didn't have the luxury of contemplating it. He had a much more immediate problem.
Despite the impact of the water dragon, the scattered insects of the clone hadn't sustained much damage. Instead, nearly two-thirds of them had hitched a ride on the splashing water and were now surging toward him.
"Water Style: Waterfall Jutsu!"
Knowing how lethal those bugs could be, Fumikawa refused to let them get close. He wove his signs and manifested a miniature waterfall, using the sheer volume of water to wash the approaching swarm away.
With the immediate threat of the insects temporarily neutralized, he finally had the mental bandwidth to search for Shikuro's true location.
Right on cue, Shikuro stepped out from behind a nearby umbrella tree, his gaze fixed coldly on Fumikawa from behind his dark sunglasses.
"You aren't a Rain ninja."
Fumikawa's heart skipped a beat at the accusation.
"Konoha has records on every Rain Jonin of your caliber," Shikuro continued, his voice monotone yet cutting. "You aren't in them. Who are you, really?"
"Hmph! Such arrogance," Fumikawa spat, refusing to break cover. "If Amegakure didn't have hidden depths like this, would we have dared to wage war against both Konoha and Suna simultaneously?"
"Heh. Whether you're a Rain ninja or not doesn't matter," Shikuro said, a rare, blatant sneer curling his lip. "After today, you will simply cease to exist."
Fumikawa's internal alarms blared.
He scanned his surroundings with sharp eyes but found no immediate threat. The bugs he had washed away with the Waterfall Jutsu were already crawling back toward Shikuro's feet.
Suddenly, his face paled. He wove a desperate set of signs and used a Body Flicker, reappearing five meters away.
In the spot where he had just been standing, a swarm of black Kikaichu was currently erupting from the soil.
Fumikawa finally realized the significance of that heavy stomp Shikuro had made earlier when dodging the water drills. The bugs must have burrowed into the earth then, quietly tunneling toward him underground.
Fortunately, he had reacted in time...
But just as Fumikawa was congratulating himself on his vigilance, a sudden wave of dizziness hit him. The world began to blur and tilt.
"Poison?!"
He struggled to steady himself, squinting through the rain to find Shikuro, but the downpour made everything look like a smudge of grey.
"Heh. You should feel honored to die by my toxic insects," Shikuro's arrogant voice drifted through the rain. "This is the first time they've had the pleasure of tasting the lifeblood of a true enemy."
"Hmph! Killing me won't be that easy!"
Whether he was provoked by Shikuro's attitude or was simply strong enough to suppress the toxin by sheer force of will, Fumikawa managed to steady his stance. He wove a final, desperate set of seals.
"Water Style: Hidden Mist Jutsu!"
As the last seal fell, a thick, unnatural fog suddenly blanketed the area.
"A Hidden Mist ninja?!"
Shikuro didn't dare lower his guard. The entire shinobi world was familiar with the terror of the Mist's assassination squads and their Silent Killing technique. He quickly released his Shokaiju—specialized scouting insects—to form a perimeter.
However, he soon realized he'd been played.
The mist lasted for less than thirty seconds before the heavy rain washed it away. Fumikawa was gone, having vanished without a trace.
"Is he really not from the Mist?"
Shikuro didn't give chase. For one, he didn't know which direction Fumikawa had fled. Secondly, he had a much more important mission to attend to.
Still, he found himself doubting his earlier assessment of the man's identity.
The Hidden Mist Jutsu was a D-rank technique, and while not exactly "common," it wasn't as rare as people thought—after all, even the B-rank Shadow Clone was floating around the black market. The reason people associated it solely with Kirigakure was that it required the follow-up of Silent Killing techniques to be effective. Otherwise, the mist was just a waste of chakra that blinded the user as much as the enemy.
Seeing how clumsily Fumikawa had executed the jutsu, Shikuro began to question his first guess.
"If not the Mist... then he must be from Iwagakure."
It made sense. The Land of Rain was sandwiched between Fire, Wind, and Earth. With Suna crippled and the Leaf about to sign a peace treaty with Ame, only the Stone had a motive to stir the pot and sabotage the alliance.
"Fine by me. Perhaps I can let the Stone take the fall for this."
Shikuro felt no need to report the Iwa presence immediately. On the contrary, remembering Danzo's orders, he realized that Iwa's interference provided him with the perfect scapegoat to facilitate his own disappearance from the delegation's radar.
Unaware that he had just become the designated fall guy for Aburame Shikuro, Fumikawa was currently fleeing in a state of pathetic desperation.
Having been caught off guard by a lack of intel, his condition was deteriorating rapidly. While this version of Shikuro didn't yet possess the terrifying nano-bugs of his future son, Torune, the toxic insects he bred were not to be trifled with.
Even though Fumikawa was using his chakra to bottle the toxin in his lower limb, the poison was already beginning to seep through his bloodstream toward his heart and brain.
With a powerful enemy nearby earlier, he hadn't dared to make a move. Now that he was temporarily safe, he knew he had to act.
He looked down at his left calf, which had already turned a bruised, necrotic black. A look of grim, absolute resolve flashed in his eyes.