Whatever Iebara was running on—willpower, fumes, pure rage—it didn’t care about the way his burned flesh split against Kakashi’s buckled armor, peeling open and pouring blood. Or the way his blackened chakra was flickering, dwindling down to a pilot light. He just wanted to kill a Leaf ninja, and he didn’t care if he destroyed himself doing it.

Kakashi’s fingers scrabbled over Iebara’s forearm, digging into raw, bunching muscles. He kicked, and they tumbled backwards into the crater. Mud splashed underneath them. Steel strength tightened around his throat, clamping down. He couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t have any weapons left.

But he was not goddamn dying on his second mission while his teammates were still fighting.

Seals unfolded in his mind’s eye. They were fresh and new, unmastered, but he could see how the chakra flowed, where it would bite. All it needed was blood, and Iebara was losing plenty of that.

Kakashi forced his hands together. The last reserves of his chakra surged, rising into a vile, corrupted shape, and lashed out. He felt it sink hooks into Iebara, pouring into all the ripped-open, ragged places that remained of the man’s flesh.

Iebara went still.

“You didn’t,” he said, voice burned raw.

Kakashi didn’t have the breath to respond, he just pulled. Blood burst like a landmine detonation, spraying out into the lashing rain, and Iebara ripped apart.

Warm pieces slid slowly down Kakashi’s back. The arm, attached to nothing, fell away from his throat.

Kakashi gasped, swaying to his feet. He managed not to fall. The air tasted like raw copper and storm water.

Ryouma, he thought. Genma.

He turned and staggered through the wet remains, tripping over the streaked arch of a rib. The stench of Ryouma’s jutsu bloomed up from half-rotted viscera. He righted himself and mostly crawled up to the lip of the crater, pulling himself over the edge to land chest-down in more mud. The rain was starting to thin out, fading from a deluge to a miserable drizzle. Just beyond the charred, lightning-blasted trees, flares of active chakra signatures wavered and hazed in the Sharingan’s vision.

Still alive.

He just had to get there.

Panting, Kakashi forced himself up again. He took a step, slipped, and crashed down on one knee and both hands. When he got his head up, one of the lights had broken away, darting across open ground in his direction.

Maybe they’d come to him instead.