There was no room for a two-step run this time. Holding the image in his head of where things were, he crouched and leapt backward, swinging his arms to gain momentum and height. The muscles along his spine contracted to pull him in a circle, knees tucking to his chest to increase the speed of his spin. The world blurred, and it became more instinct than thought to know when to snap his arms out, fingers closing around a thin branch just long enough to whip his trajectory around, flinging him up and sideways rather than down.
He hit a tree trunk and rebounded, muscles bunching and springing harder and faster now, closer to the speeds he'd reach fighting another aerialist or a flyer.
Two trees standing close together made for a perfect springboard and he ricocheted between them, gaining height as he spun. Then he shot past one, body extended, streamlined, arms tight over his head to drop through the slim hole created by a crisscrossing of branches. He hit another limb with both feet and ignored the stab of pain up his leg, handspringing backward along the length of the wood before leaping off, hitting something lower with his hands, vaulting off it parallel to the ground, feeling a thin green limb pass under his body. His fingers closed around it and he whipped around like a ball on a string, over, under, straight up and releasing.
He tucked forward and landed on the branch he was aiming for, settling on the pads of his feet, on his toes--
There was too much forward momentum to stop without toes. But he'd been picking his landing sites carefully, knowing this was a problem, and as he toppled foward and off the branch he tucked, spun, reached out to grab the small limb again and spun around it, round and round, slowing himself until he could twist and land in a crouch, balanced on one foot, toes gripping, the other leg braced on the shin, both hands still hanging onto the branch.
The first branch had been wide. He shouldn't have had a problem sticking that landing. Here in this part of the forest, with these massive trees, he usually had something to fall back on. That wasn't always going to be the case, and he couldn't always trust that he'd land on something where he could take an extra step if he needed to.
Sometimes that extra step took you off the side of a building, or straight into a trap.
He caught his breath and tried to find his center of gravity again, minute movements shifting him where he was until he could bring his injured foot up, grimly trying to find the balance point on the ball of his sole. He wasn't entirely successful, but braced on both hands and his other foot it didn't matter--right now.
He found Kakashi again, and explained darkly, "The longer the run, the more off I get." He shook his head, frustrated at himself. "Balance is a little screwed every time I land on my feet. The more I try it, the further off everything gets." Which was part of the reason he'd been doing more swings, more arm work. Gave Kakashi a better idea how it should look, rather than his wobbly tucks and spins when he tried to do the foot work.