Chapter 15: Fight with Hiddin Mist Anbu Part 4

"Poof!" The swift knife slash of the Hidden Mist ANBU operative grazed Miao's left arm, painting the snowy landscape with crimson. "Struggling to match my speed?" The Anbu ninja said.

Miao's mind raced, yet he didn't falter. Reacting swiftly, he hurled a kunai from his right hand toward the advancing ANBU Ninja.

A subtle change crossed the Anbu's expression as they dodged the incoming kunai. Seizing the opening, Miao executed a tactical retreat. With hands moving in a blur – a rate of five seals per second – he completed a sequence in the blink of an eye. "Fire Style – Fireball Jutsu!" Miao's command resonated as a colossal fireball erupted from his mouth.

The blazing fire sphere hurtled toward the Anbu Ninja, met with a swift Water Style Ninjutsu to counter. Harnessing water vapor from the atmosphere, a colossal water sphere materialized before the operative, crashing forcefully into the oncoming fireball.

"Boom!" The simultaneous impact birthed a deafening explosion, enshrouding the vicinity in a dense white mist. Yet, for Miao, the mist posed no hindrance.

Within the milky haze, Miao's Sharingan – three tomoe emanating an eerie crimson glow – pierced through the fog. While lacking the panoramic vision of the Byakugan, the Sharingan, and its strong Chakra eye it is able to discern chakra signatures within individuals. The mist couldn't conceal that.

Amid the temporary calm, a subtle rustle in the air tickled Miao's senses. Swiftly, he detected a lurking threat from behind.

"Behind me!" Miao's composure remained unshaken. His 3 tomoe Sharingan, radiating a crimson hue was able to track his movements. Chakra surged, coalescing into a blue sphere of light within his palm.

Without the need to glance back, Miao spun around, simultaneously releasing the Rasengan he held. "Thud!" The Anbu ninja was flown away and his body crashed into another ANBU ninja. A sharp cry of pain echoed as the operative's eyes rolled white.

Miao's gaze remained fixated on the unfolding scene, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. Something felt amiss. The ANBU operative's figure contorted, reshaping into a puddle that melded with the earth.

"Water Clone!" Miao recognized the deceptive technique with a jolt of realization. Yet, his awareness came too late. An abrupt stab struck his heart.

Pierced, Miao's thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. His vision blurred as he stared at the cold, gleaming blade lodged within his chest.

In that instant, the mist ahead began to warp and distort, revealing the concealed figure of the Hidden Mist ANBU operative. With a disdainful curl of his lips, he gazed at the seemingly vacant Miao. "Just a little kid, and yet you expose your own weakness. A flaw like this is enough to lead you to your demise. Off to hell with you!" His words dripped with arrogance as his hand, clutching the blade, twisted with the intent to crush Miao's heart entirely.

However, the atmosphere shifted abruptly. Miao, who moments ago appeared dazed, now sported a sardonic grin. Fixing his gaze on the ANBU operative, he retorted, "It's your own ignorance that's your downfall." The words hung in the air, piercing through the tension like a blade.

A wave of unease swept over the ANBU operative, his instincts warning of impending danger.

In the blink of an eye, Miao's form, which had been seemingly vulnerable, dissolved into thin air. The bloodstains that marred the snow vanished as if they were never there.

"No, this is an illusion!" The ANBU operative's realization was sharp, but it was already too late. With a soft "poof," a sharp kunai buried itself into his heart from behind.

The light in the operative's eyes dimmed gradually as his body slumped to the ground. Blood flowed from his wound, staining the pristine snow in a vivid red hue.

Yet, Miao found himself in a state of discomfort, half-kneeling on the ground, breaths labored and chakra nearly depleted. He had utilized his limited reserves, performed two Fire Style techniques, conjured two Shadow Clones, all the while employing the Sharingan and weaving illusions. Despite his Uzumaki bloodline, the toll was undeniable. At the tender age of nine, he had miscalculated his chakra reserves, ascending beyond the prowess of an average Jōnin, inching closer to that of an elite Shinobi.

"Unforgivable!" Miao's rough attire betrayed his inner frustration. This was no time for reprieve. If his chakra failed him now, not only would he be rendered ineffectual in the ongoing conflict, but even the means to escape would be denied him, a burden his father couldn't bear.

"Chakra must be replenished without delay!" Fueled by determination, Miao assumed a seated position, initiating the intricate process of chakra restoration. His focus was on rejuvenation, not complete recovery, aiming to secure the power necessary for self-preservation.

Amidst the turmoil, a violent explosion resonated, jolting Miao's senses. Gazing towards the source, he witnessed smoke enveloping the vicinity, flames ascending towards the heavens. The ANBU operatives, adversaries once vigorous, were now hunched over, injuries incapacitating their combat potential.

Hayato, Miao's father, bore a visage devoid of colour. Blood adorned his lips, an indicator of the toll extracted by battle. The Sharingan, too, was concealed beneath closed eyelids, while his entire form wavered unsteadily. Consumed by his efforts, he stood on the precipice of exhaustion.

Witnessing Hayato's deteriorating condition, Miao's countenance shifted abruptly. He was well aware of his father's fragile health, understanding the strain that high-intensity battles placed on him. However, the gravity of his current state exceeded Miao's expectations. "Father, how dire are your injuries?" Miao inquired, concern etched across his face.

A sudden fit of coughs erupted from Hayato, accompanied by the expulsion of a sizable pool of blood. Grimacing, he descended to a half-kneeling position, his breath ragged and coughs persisting. The chest pain seared through his nerves, a sharp reminder of the toll exacted by the skirmish.

"Cursed…!" Hayato's exclamation was punctuated by his wavering expression. A sense of unfamiliarity had settled within him, born from a prolonged absence from battle. Adaptation to the rigorous rhythm had eluded him, resulting in depleted chakra reserves and exacerbated injuries. "Retreat is imperative!" Hayato's voice quivered as he wiped the blood from his mouth, acknowledging the need to withdraw from the battlefield.

In an instant, a gust of wind struck their faces, alerting them to an approaching force. Sensing the impending danger, Miao and Hayato exchanged alarmed glances. Emerging from the woods