Naruto : Infinite Buff!

The battlefield was a maelstrom of death and fire. Smoke coiled in the air, thick and suffocating, tainted with the metallic tang of blood and the scorched scent of burning flesh. It clung to Amatsu's skin, a grim reminder of the chaos that enveloped him. Explosions raged in the distance, their concussive force shaking the very bones of the earth, each blast a reminder of the fragility of life.

Flames licked hungrily at shattered trees, their skeletal remains collapsing into the mud, consumed by the destruction. The once vibrant forest had become a graveyard, its beauty marred by the scars of war. Kunai clashed mid-flight, ringing out like the toll of a distant funeral bell before being swallowed by the cacophony of violence. Shuriken carved through the haze like shooting stars, some embedding into bark, others sinking into soft, yielding flesh.

The waterfall roared behind them, a towering veil of white crashing against the jagged rocks below. Mist curled through the air, thick with moisture, clinging to the skin like a phantom's breath. It enveloped everything in a shroud of dampness, a constant reminder of the tumultuous world they inhabited.

Amatsu stepped forward, his footfalls silent despite the uneven terrain. The cold water lapped at his ankles, but his mind registered it only in passing. He was not concerned with discomfort; his focus was directed entirely ahead.

A presence lingered behind him—delicate, hesitant. Higanbana's hand trembled at the hem of her robe, gripping the damp fabric between pale fingers. She could feel the weight of the battlefield pressing ahead, thick with the iron scent of blood, a tangible reminder of the violence that had just unfolded.

Amatsu did not turn to reassure her. His gaze was already locked on the scene before him.

A body crumpled somewhere in the chaos, throat slit before the owner even registered the pain. It was a swift and merciless end, one that spoke of the brutality that governed this world. Lightning cracked overhead, a blinding arc of pale blue severing through the air, vaporizing a figure mid-scream. The scream echoed for mere moments before being obliterated, a reminder of the fleeting nature of existence.

Wind howled in response, carrying the scent of charred remains as a gust of razor-sharp chakra cleaved through another hapless soul. The screams blended with the relentless percussion of detonations, the sharp hiss of metal cutting through air, the wet sound of blades carving flesh, each note contributing to the gruesome symphony of agony and slaughter.

A nearby explosion sent a spray of blood and dirt skyward, the ground trembling as another life was reduced to nothingness. Smoke curled through the ruins of a collapsed structure, jagged remnants jutting like the ribs of a long-dead beast, a haunting monument to the violence that had unfolded. Somewhere, a child sobbed before falling silent, snatched away by the merciless hands of fate, their innocence extinguished in an instant.

A boy, no older than ten, stumbled backward, his breath ragged, a look of desperation etched across his face. His features were streaked with mud, tears mixing with grime, and his hands were raised in a pathetic attempt at surrender.

"D-Don't kill me—" His voice cracked, a plea that would fall on deaf ears.

It did not matter.

A kunai flashed, a silver arc slicing through the mist.

SHIIING— The blade met flesh with effortless finality. The boy stiffened, a choked gurgle spilling from his lips. A moment later, blood sprayed outward, a sudden burst of red against the damp earth, staining the soil and marking the end of innocence.

His body crumpled, lifeless, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

The two killers stood over him, their grins sharp and feral. They were older, stronger—trained by Danzo to survive. To kill without hesitation. Their presence was a testament to the ruthlessness of their world, where weakness was a crime punishable by death.

One of them—taller, lean muscle coiled beneath his ragged clothing—flicked the blood from his kunai. His expression was cold amusement, a predator relishing in the kill. He had done this many times before, each life extinguished a mere statistic in the brutal game of survival.

But then, something shifted in the atmosphere. A prickling unease skated across his spine, instincts honed by years of brutality flaring to life. His gaze lifted, searching the mist, seeking the source of his unease.

A boy stood there, motionless.

Black hair clung to his skin, slick with the mist from the waterfall. Amatsu stood there, a figure carved from ice, his face devoid of emotion, a mask of calm amidst the chaos. His dark, unyielding eyes held no flicker of fear, only quiet, absolute certainty—a resolve that seemed to challenge the very fabric of their existence.

The killer's fingers tensed around his weapon, a sudden awareness dawning on him as he took in the boy before him.

"That kid..." he muttered, his voice a low murmur, doubt creeping into his mind. "He's different."

His companion, a taller figure with a jagged scar running down his cheek, followed his gaze, rolling his eyes. "What are you on about, Kaito? He's just a kid. We've taken down tougher snot-nosed brats than him."

Kaito shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. "No, seriously Hino!. There's something off about him. Look at how he stands. He's not scared at all. He is too calm."

"Scared? Please," Hino scoffed. "He's just trying to look tough. Kids like him always crumble when it counts."

"Let's kill him," Kaito said, his voice firming up, hiding the doubt that still lingered.

"Yeah, finally!" Hino grinned. "Let's show this pup what real men can do."

A moment of silence hung heavy between them, the tension palpable, as the din of battle faded, leaving an eerie stillness that enveloped the three figures.

Then—

The two lunged.

Their movements were swift, honed by survival instincts. Feet barely touched the ground before pushing off again, propelling them forward with practiced efficiency.

To them, they moved at blinding speed.

But to Amatsu, they moved at a crawl.

Every step they took—every shift of muscle, every flicker of intention—was laid bare before him.

A realization settled into his bones.

Slow. Predictable.

His mind sharpened, dissecting the mechanics of their approach with surgical precision. He could see their legs reinforcing their speed, a telltale sign of their intent to charge. The tension coiling in their fingers betrayed their eagerness to strike, while the subtle imbalance in their stances—minor but deadly if exploited—told him everything he needed to know.

A cold smirk ghosted across his lips.

It's time.

He had trained relentlessly, honing his chakra control through pain and repetition. Every breath, every movement had been a lesson in discipline, a step toward mastery. His understanding was no longer just theoretical; it had become instinctual.

So why not apply it here?

A thought took root—a gamble, a calculated risk.

Amatsu willed chakra into his eyes, guiding it with meticulous precision. This was not a wild, reckless infusion; it was a controlled refinement, shaped by the foundation he had built through pains of hard work. The sensation burned, searing his vision like molten steel branding flesh. Pain? It registered, but it did not matter. He had long since learned to endure.

---

[Buff Detected: Ehanced Vision Buff]

-Effect: +10% Sight Processing Speed (locked) (Permanent)

Ability to process visual information is heightened, allowing to track rapid movements and predict actions more effectively.

[Buff Detected: Dynamic Focus Buff]

-Effect: +10% Target Lock Precision (Locked) (Permanent)

Maintain precise focus on moving targets, reducing visual distractions.

---

The world shifted.

The battlefield slowed.

The water droplets hung mid-air, the flexing of muscles, the glint of steel—everything was clearer, sharper. He saw the paths of their attacks before they even committed, a premonition of violence unfolding in slow motion.

His fingers curled around his kunai, the weight of it familiar and reassuring.

Higanbana, still frozen behind him, barely had time to react before he moved.

The moment his foot touched the ground, his chakra surged—controlled, refined. Months of training condensed into a single, fluid motion.

In an instant, he was before them.

The first guy eyes widened, realization dawning too late, a flicker of fear momentarily breaking through his bravado.

A slash.

Steel met flesh with a sickening precision.

The kunai tore through Hino's throat in a single, clean motion, a violent arc that severed both windpipe and life.

He barely had time to react. His body seized, a wet gurgle slipping past his lips as blood fountained from the gash, hot and slick, painting the ground beneath him in a vivid crimson.

His fingers spasmed, clawing at his severed throat in a futile attempt to hold himself together, panic flooding his features as the reality of his demise settled in.

His knees buckled. He collapsed, the life draining from his eyes, leaving behind the hollow shell of a once-ambitious killer.

Amatsu's face remained unchanged—a mask of cold efficiency, devoid of emotion.

No satisfaction. No hesitation.

He wiped the blade against the corpse's tattered clothing, stripping it of blood, the red liquid soaking into the fabric like a dark stain on the fabric of fate. Each movement was deliberate, methodical, reflecting on the efficiency of his actions.

This is the cost of survival, he thought, his mind a steel trap that allowed no room for sentiment. In a world governed by violence, where weakness was a death sentence, he had learned to embrace the brutality of existence.

"Higanbana," his voice was cold, practical. "Loot him."

She hesitated, her fingers trembling, lips parted as if to protest the brutality she had just witnessed.

But then, she obeyed.

Her hands moved with unsteady determination, rifling through the dead boy's belongings. A kunai. A few wire strings. She took them all, swallowing down the bile rising in her throat, her stomach churning at the reality of what she was doing.

Amatsu did not acknowledge her struggle.

He had already turned toward the second enemy.

Kaito breath came in ragged bursts, panic evident as he stumbled backward, eyes darting between Amatsu and his fallen companion.

Panic.

It made him foolish.

His fingers flashed through seals, desperate to unleash a jutsu that might turn the tide, a last-ditch effort to reclaim control..

Amatsu watched calmly, the chaos of the battlefield swirling around him, but he remained a steadfast observer. His gaze locked onto Kaito, studying the tension in the boy's shoulders, the way they tightened as he prepared for an attack. He noted the subtle shifts of chakra, the way it coalesced at Kaito's fingertips, crackling with energy—a clear sign of an incoming jutsu.

The boy had trained in ninjutsu, Amatsu thought, his mind calculating the possibilities. But it would not save him.

He took a step forward, the ground beneath him solid, a reminder of his resolve. Kaito's eyes widened, and he flinched, rushing to complete his hand signs, the urgency evident in every frantic motion.

Too slow.

Amatsu moved like a shadow, a blur of motion slicing through the air as he closed the distance in an instant.

A sharp, brutal slash.

The kunai found its mark, plunging into Kaito's side with a merciless precision. A spray of blood erupted, painting the air with a crimson hue, glistening in the dim light like a morbid flower in bloom.

Kaito staggered, his jutsu unfinished, the intricate seals breaking apart as fear overwhelmed him, consuming his thoughts. His mouth opened—whether to scream or to curse, it was unclear, the words lost in the chaos of his panic.

It did not matter.

As he fell, his body crumpled to the ground, the life draining from his eyes, replaced by an empty stare that reflected the stark reality of his defeat.

Silence enveloped the area, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the soft sound of water cascading behind them.

Amatsu exhaled, steady and controlled, the adrenaline coursing through his veins a reminder of his own mortality.

Then, without pause—

"Higanbana."

She flinched. But this time, she did not hesitate.

Her hands moved with more certainty, plundering the dead without ceremony, her instincts taking over as she rifled through the remains of the fallen enemy.

Amatsu knelt beside her, rifling through the first corpse. His fingers ghosted over the fabric, searching, analyzing.A shuriken tucked into his pouch.

He took them all, each item a small investment in their survival, a step closer to the next confrontation looming on the horizon.

As she worked, he observed the battlefield, the chaos unfolding around them—a whirlwind of screams, steel, and jutsu. The air was thick with the iron scent of blood, a reminder of the cost of survival.

The remaining, witnessing the slaughter of their comrades, began to rally. Their fear transformed into rage, and rage into a frantic desire for vengeance.

Five more surged forward.

Emboldened by sheer numbers, their voices rising in unison. "You guys keep going! We'll take care of him!"

Amatsu felt the shift in the air, the tension thickening as the five approached, their resolve steeling against the onslaught of his cold efficiency.

He turned his attention back to Higanbana, who had finished looting the second body. She stood, her face pale, eyes wide as she took in the scene of carnage.

His voice steady. "We're not finished yet."

She nodded, swallowing hard, the weight of his words sinking in.

As the remaining orphans charged, three began forming hand seals with practiced precision, their movements synchronized—a choreography of desperation and aggression. The other two braced themselves, ready to defend against any potential counterattack, their expressions a mixture of determination and fear.

Amatsu watched intently, his gaze piercing through the haze of battle.

"Hand signs...?"

His eyes traced their movements.

His mind dissected the pattern.

analyzing them.

He could not allow that.

A flicker of resolve ignited within him. The time for caution had passed, he needed to act decisively to maintain control of the battlefield.

He focused, drawing upon the chakra reserves within him, feeling the energy pulse through his limbs. The familiar hum of power resonated beneath his skin, urging him to unleash the full extent of his training.

Their movements slowed in his vision, the sequences breaking apart into precise, isolated fragments. The instant their fingers twisted into the first seal.

Snake → Ram → Boar → Horse → Bird → Rat → Tiger → Dog → Snake → Ram → Boar → Horse → Bird → Rat → Tiger → Dog → Snake—

Their hand sign speed was formidable, but not beyond his reach. The gap was slim, razor-thin, but the enhancements granted by his system made the difference. A fraction of a second. That was all he needed.

Their hands blurred.

His hands moved.

Their fingers twisted into the final Dog seal.

So did his.

"Water Release!" one shouted, his voice filled with bravado.

"Water Release!" echoed the bulky man, his eyes narrowing as he focused.

"Exploding Water Colliding Wave!" three all yelled in unison, their confidence surging.

BOOOOM!

Their jutsu collided with his in a massive shockwave that erupted across the battlefield.

The force of the explosion sent a tremor through the ground, shaking the very air around them. Debris flew in every direction, and the mist parted like a curtain, revealing the chaos that lay beyond—the remnants of battle and the destruction they had wrought.

But amidst it all, Amatsu stood firm, his own Water Release swelling with power, a tidal wave that dwarfed their efforts. The sheer volume of his technique surged forward, crashing over theirs like a tsunami, overwhelming their combined strength.

The five staggered back, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Whoa! What the hell?!" panic creeping into his voice.

"Didn't we just do that? How is his jutsu so much bigger?" another screamed, frustration etched across his face.

"Impossible! We can't lose to this kid!" another one yelled, his bravado faltering as fear took hold.

Amatsu exhaled, feeling the exhilaration of control surge through him. 

"Efficiency. Power. Control."

His chakra reserves were far from drained. He could do this again and again, each repetition honing his focus, sharpening his instincts.

The battlefield shifted, the air crackling with tension. The five remaining exchanged frantic glances, uncertainty clouding their minds as they struggled.

Amatsu's gaze swept over them, noting the way fear had begun to settle in their expressions, how their earlier confidence had been shattered like glass.

Higanbana, still at his side, felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She had watched him execute two boys without hesitation, and now the remnants of their lives lay before her, stark reminders of the brutal reality they faced.

A shiver ran down her spine as she realized that death was not just a specter lurking in the shadows; it was a tangible force, ready to claim more lives if given the chance.

"Stay by my side," Amatsu instructed, his voice steady, cutting through the haze of uncertainty that enveloped them.

She nodded, her resolve hardening. She would not falter.

"Water Release!"

He focused again, feeling the energy within him resonate as he mirrored their movements, adapting to their technique.

"Exploding Water Colliding Wave"

The jutsu erupted, and Amatsu's chakra surged forward, colliding with theirs in a cacophony of sound and light.

BOOOOM!

The explosion rocked the area, sending shockwaves through the ground and scattering debris in every direction.

Amatsu stood firm, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the aftermath. The five orphans stumbled backward, their eyes wide with disbelief, realizing that their combined strength had failed against his resolve.

As the dust settled, he felt the air around him shift, thick with tension and the unmistakable scent of fear.

Amatsu's expression remained unchanged, a mask of cold efficiency.

"Strength is the only truth," his voice calm, devoid of emotion. "you guys are weak."

Taunting them.

"Once you lose control, the battle decided the winner."

Amatsu smirked, the confidence radiating from him. "You really thought you could take me on with that weak jutsu?"

"Shut up! This isn't over!" one of them snapped, trying to regain his composure, but the tremor of doubt was unmistakable.

Amatsu prepared to press his advantage, the tide of battle shifting decisively in his favor. The air crackled with tension as he stood ready, unyielding against their fury.

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and in that moment, something within the group shifted. The fight drained from their eyes, replaced by a flicker of desperation as they began to realize the futility of their resistance.

"Yeah, we can still take him down! Just regroup!" one of them shouted, trying to rally the others.

"Regroup? Are you kidding? Look at the size of that wave!" another yelled, his voice tinged with panic. "We're going to get wiped out!"

As the remaining began forming new hand seals, desperation fueling their movements, Amatsu prepared for their next assault. He could see the flicker of their chakra, the way it swirled and coalesced, a telltale sign of their intent to unleash another jutsu.

Amatsu watched, calculating. He could see the resolve in their stances.

"Now!" the boy shouted, and in an instant, they unleashed their jutsu, a torrent of water and chakra aimed directly at him.

The moment hung in the air, time stretching as the attack surged forward.

Amatsu's instincts kicked in, and he dashed to the side, narrowly avoiding the brunt of the attack. The water crashed against the ground where he had been standing, sending sprays of mud and debris in every direction.

But he was not deterred. He turned, gathering his chakra once more, channeling it into a focused counterattack.

Now!

He unleashed his jutsu, a wave that collided with theirs, the two forces meeting in a violent explosion that sent shockwaves through the air.

BOOM!

The impact reverberated around them, and Amatsu used the chaos to his advantage. He moved through the dust and debris, closing the distance between himself and the opponents, his kunai gleaming in his hand.

As the dust began to settle, he emerged, a figure of calm amidst the chaos, ready to strike once more.

The remaining , now visibly shaken, exchanged glances filled with uncertainty.

"Stay together!" the boy shouted, but the fear in his eyes betrayed his confidence.

Amatsu felt the air thicken with tension as he prepared to engage. Their jutsu had failed, and now they were left vulnerable.

"Higanbana," he called, his voice steady and commanding. "Stay back."

She moved to comply, understanding the instinctual need for distance as he prepared to unleash the full extent of his abilities.

With a swift motion, he launched forward, his kunai slicing through the air, a blur of motion as he closed the distance between them.

They braced themselves, desperation fueling their movements as they prepared to defend against the impending assault.

But Amatsu was relentless. He struck with precision, each movement calculated and efficient, exploiting their weaknesses with ruthless efficiency.

The first boy fell, his scream cut short as Amatsu's kunai found its mark, a clean execution that silenced the chaos around them.

One by one, the others began to crumble under the weight of his onslaught, their resolve shattered like glass, their cries of defiance fading into the mist as they fell.

"Higanbana," he called again, his voice steady. "Loot them."

She complied, her hands moving with newfound certainty, plundering the fallen without ceremony.

Amatsu knelt beside her, rifling through the corpses, his fingers ghosting over the fabric, searching, analyzing.

"Efficient."

He took what he needed, anything that would aid them in the battles yet to come.

As he worked, he felt the weight of the moment settle around him. The battlefield, once filled with chaos, had become a grim reminder of the cost of survival.

And in that silence, amidst the bodies of the fallen, Amatsu understood the truth of his existence—the unyielding nature of strength and the harsh reality that only the ruthless would prevail in a world where weakness led to death.

He stood, surveying the scene, knowing that this was only the beginning. There would be more battles, more challenges to face.

But for now, they had survived.

Higanbana, quiet but steady, had gathered what she could from the fallen, her movements methodical, devoid of emotion. She did not speak of what had happened; there was no need for words in the face of such violence. She simply followed, her presence a silent shadow at Amatsu's side.

Amatsu took a step forward—

And then he stopped.

A shift in the air.

The silence had changed, thickening with an unsettling tension, a weight that pressed down upon them, a harbinger of danger.

Something was watching.

No—someone.

From the mist, footsteps approached, their cadence calm, steady, a predator stalking its prey.

Calm. Steady.

Three silhouettes emerged, their forms cutting through the fog like blades through flesh. Older. Taller. Their eyes sharp, gleaming like polished steel, reflecting a predatory interest that sent a shiver down Higanbana's spine.

They did not flinch at the sight of the dead. Their expressions remained placid, almost amused, as if the carnage was a mere backdrop to their purpose.

One of them, a boy with short silver hair, tilted his head, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Not bad," he murmured, his voice smooth and taunting. "For a stray."

Amatsu said nothinghis silence a wall of indifference, his fingers tightening around his kunai, the familiar weight a comforting reminder of his readiness.

The one in the center stepped forward, exuding an air of authority that demanded attention. Broad shoulders filled out his dark clothing, and every movement was calculated, confident.

This one was the leader.

He met Amatsu's gaze—

And grinned, a predator sizing up its prey.

"Now then," he said. "Shall we begin?"