Rin's palm strike cut through the air with decisive force.
Sharp whooshes followed as several kunai streaked toward Seiran, aimed at his vital points. He tensed, ready to deflect—then froze.
"Wood?"
The kunai weren't metal. They were wooden.
She knows I can control metal. She replaced everything ahead of time.
Seiran rolled backward, the volley missing by inches. More wooden kunai followed, colliding mid-air and shifting trajectories to form a sweeping net. He recognized the technique instantly—classic Uchiha throwing patterns—but adapted for wooden tools instead of steel.
Wooden kunai have different weight distribution, different rebound angles. She must have spent hours drilling this.
He deflected the barrage with a metal kunai from his own pouch, his enhanced reflexes barely keeping pace. The electric current flowing through his body pushed his reaction time into overdrive.
From the corner of his eye, movement.
Rin's previous position was empty. A leg swept toward his chest—a low, vicious arc. Seitan sidestepped; her toes grazed his shirt, wind whistling past the motion.
She's escalating.
He activated his Byakugan, the veins bulging around his eyes. The world sharpened into crystalline clarity.
Their close-range exchange became a blur—flesh against flesh, the woods trembling with each impact. Leaves scattered like snow.
"Why not use Gentle Fist?" Rin asked between combinations.
Seiran blocked her sweeping leg with his palm, then drove his fist toward the nerve cluster at her thigh's base, forcing her back a step. "Too many restrictions. But targeting weak points? That's a rhythm I can work with."
She nodded, reassessing. Her Sharingan—or rather, the keen instincts that would one day awaken it—was sharp enough to see that conventional Gentle Fist wouldn't pressure him. But his strikes were chaos made precise, each one finding gaps in her defense.
After three more exchanges, she broke contact.
Rin stepped back and began forming hand seals.
Seiran raised an eyebrow. "Fire Style: Great Fireball? Didn't last time teach you anything?"
She didn't answer. Her lungs filled, and an orange-red inferno erupted from her mouth.
But it wasn't aimed at him.
It struck the ground between them.
Black smoke and embers exploded outward, swallowing everything in a wall of flame and confusion. Seiran couldn't retreat fast enough—the blast caught him at the edge, throwing him forward into the chaos.
By the time he cleared it, slender arms wrapped around his upper body, pinning his hands to his sides. Cold metal pressed against his throat.
A wooden kunai.
"I win," Rin whispered, triumph coloring her voice.
She used the Fireball as a smokescreen, forced me into a predictable dodge trajectory, then circled behind while I was disoriented. And I underestimated her.
Seiran had to admit—her combat instincts were sharper than most academy students'.
But she'd forgotten something.
"Just this?" He smiled. "Your plan's a little too simple."
"What—"
A metal shuriken spun slowly into view, hovering mere inches from her throat.
Rin's breath caught. She looked down, eyes widening as three more shurikens materialized around her body, rotating in lazy, lethal circles.
"When?" Her voice shook.
"The moment your fireball erupted. Four shurikens, Magnet Release control, waiting for your next move. You attacked my body—I defended with metal instead."
Rin's shoulders sagged. She released him and stepped back, the arrogance draining from her expression.
"I lost."
Seiran deactivated the shurikens, letting them fall harmlessly to the ground.
"Don't do that. Your Sharingan hasn't awakened yet. Give it time, and the outcome would be completely different."
She shot him a cold look, her eyes hardening again. "I don't need pity. I'm not fragile."
"So? What are your conditions?" She straightened, all business now. They'd made a deal before the fight, and she was ready to honor it.
Then she added, quietly: "But if you make any excessive demands, I'll kill you. Even if it costs my life."
Seiran laughed. He pulled a folded blueprint from his pocket and handed it over.
"The Uchiha clan has ties with Nekomata—the Cat Merchant clan. One of the world's largest ninja merchants, right? I need your help customizing this."
Rin unfolded the blueprint. It showed a weapon unlike anything in the village's arsenal—something between a crossbow and a device she had no name for.
"That's it?" She looked up, surprised.
"That's it." He shrugged. "I've already checked the local shops. Customizing this would cost tens of thousands of ryo and require connections most people don't have. You do."
Rin studied the blueprint for a long moment. Then: "Don't worry about it. I'll handle this. No payment necessary."
Seiran blinked. "Really?"
"Really." She said it like a fact, not an offer.
Tens of thousands of ryo, and she's brushing it off like spare change? What's her family situation?
His mind spun with possibilities, though he kept his expression neutral. "Then thanks, Rin."
She watched him carefully, suspicious of something in his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"No reason," he said quickly, turning away before she could read his face. Rin had a particular presence—composed, direct, with sharp features that would only sharpen with age. The kind of presence that made his pulse quicken.
He needed to focus on the mission.
"I have a question though," Rin said, her tone shifting back to analytical. "Why is your Magnet Release so powerful? Normal Magnet Release can't control shuriken and kunai with that level of precision. If it could, Sunagakure wouldn't be the weakest of the five great villages."
It was a good question. Too good.
Seiran smiled slightly. "That's a conversation for another time."