Lightning.

Kakashi threw himself sideways as energy split the dark and lashed the ground at his feet, shattering rock and throwing clumps of fried earth skyward. The scorch of ozone and burning grass obliterated every other scent, wiping out the trail.

He kawarimi'd, wrenching away from the sudden threat. An outcrop of rock gave him a moment's shelter. Chakra tickled his senses, announcing a jounin-level fighter.

Who used lightning.

Some part of Kakashi that didn't particularly care about common sense twitched with annoyance. Lightning was his thing.

The rest of him was a little more focused. He crouched, breathing hard, shielded by the rock, and let his mind run. An aggressive jounin this close to where Tsume's clone had said she'd gone to ground was nothing but bad news.

On the other hand, an enemy jounin--if he was involved--could be all kinds of useful. By this point, Kakashi had no qualms about ripping a man apart to find his teammates.

He broke his chakra into three clones and threw himself back over the rocks, sword drawn. A flash of white hair and dark skin met his gaze, then the world blurred into motion.