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This chapter contains themes of depression, suicidal thoughts, and self-harm. It portrays the emotional and mental struggles of a character following a traumatic fall from grace.

If you're struggling with similar feelings, please know you're not alone. There are people who care about you and want to help.

You can talk to someone friends, family, or professionals. If you're in crisis, please reach out to a mental health service or helpline in your country.

Your life matters.

Rukon had always been a fighter.

Born in the mid-sprawl of a working-class Bangkok neighborhood, he'd grown up with noise motorbikes rattling down narrow streets, dogs barking at ghosts, and neighbors arguing over television volume. But under that chaos lived something quieter: a dream.

He was ten when he saw his first Muay Thai match, standing on tiptoes outside a run-down stadium, peering over rusted rails just to get a glimpse. The fighters had moved like they were born for it. Their strikes were poetry, their grit divine. One of them, "the Muay Thai Strongest", had won with a final elbow that sounded like bone cracking through wood. The crowd had roared. Rukon didn't just cheer. He vowed.

That night, he practiced knees on his mattress. That night, he knew what he'd become.

Now, a little over a decade later, here he was.

Standing in the ring. Championship bout. Title on the line.

The ropes smelled like sweat and glory. The air pulsed with roaring voices. Cameras clicked. Announcers screamed. Across the ring stood his opponent: Daokan "Steel Jaw" Wichai, undefeated, a veteran of over fifty fights. But Rukon wasn't afraid. Not anymore. Not after clawing through blood, injury, ridicule, and hunger just to get here.

The bell rang.

Steel Jaw came fast, a low feint into a sharp right elbow, testing Rukon's guard. Rukon blocked, barely, the shockwave rattling down his arm. But he smiled. This is what he lived for.

The first two rounds were brutal. Rukon took hits. His ribs screamed. But in Round Three, he found his rhythm. He started landing clean. A low kick that staggered Wichai. A spinning elbow that grazed his temple. Sweat flew like rain. The arena pulsed louder.

Round Four, Rukon leapt. Literally leapt knee aimed for Wichai's face.

Impact.

The crowd gasped, then exploded.

Wichai crumpled. Rukon didn't even hear the count. He was in the air, above the world, floating in the dream he had carved from asphalt and aching knuckles.

He was now the Muay Thai Strongest.

But that dream lasted exactly four hours.

He was still drenched in sweat when a man from the committee came into his locker room. Didn't knock. Just entered with two officers behind him.

"Rukon Wattanachai," the man said, flatly, "you've failed the anti-doping test."

Rukon blinked. "What?"

"We found a banned substance in your urine."

"That's not—I don't use anything."

They didn't argue. They just pointed to his locker. Someone had already opened it.

There it was. A small black pack. Inside, syringes. Vials.

Rukon's breath caught. "I've never—what the hell is that?! That's not mine! Somebody might have placed it."

They looked at him like he'd said nothing at all.

The fall was fast. Faster than any punch he'd ever taken.

Disqualified. Title revoked. Headlines blazed across Thai and international media. "Rukon: Cheat or Tragedy?"He was dragged through every news channel, every YouTube podcast, every gossip forum. No one cared about his denials. The footage of the pack. The test. The image of him collapsed in the ring, hand over his heart that's what they all used.

He didn't sleep. He stopped eating. Calls from his gym went unanswered. His name was removed from the fight posters. Sponsorships pulled out within the week. The gym replaced him with a rising 19-year-old they said was "cleaner and more focused."

And now?

Now he was in a room that smelled like dust, socks, and stale curry.

The wallpaper peeled like dead skin. The fan above barely moved. Piles of unwashed clothes made hills around his mattress. He hadn't trained in weeks. He hadn't talked to anyone in days.

He hadn't looked in a mirror in months.

His only refuge that he found his hell of a world? Anime. Escape.

Late at night, he'd lie on his back and binge old Naruto episodes. Not for Naruto himself but for Hinata.

She was quiet. Always watching. People ignored her. Underestimated her. But she didn't flinch. She trained. She waited. And when it mattered, she stepped forward. She bled for what she loved.

She reminded him of who he thought he was. And who he wanted to be.

That night, he passed out on his mattress. TV still playing. In his dream, he was back in the ring. His name being announced. The cheers were thunderous.

Then a sharp voice cut through.

"...due to the banned substance discovered in his locker…"

He snapped awake. It wasn't a dream.

It was the TV.

They were playing a segment about his scandal. Again.

He stared at the screen. It was his face. Sweat-soaked, victorious. Then his locker. Then the black bag.

He screamed.

He reached for something—anything—and his hand landed on an empty beer bottle. It sailed across the room, shattering against the wall-mounted screen.

Glass scattered like snow.

He didn't get up. Just lay there. Breathing like he'd run ten kilometers. His heart wasn't racing, it was breaking.

The thoughts had come before. Quietly. Then louder. They wrapped around his ribs, coiled in his lungs.

First time, he stood on the edge of his building. Eighth floor. Wind cold on his face.

But he'd chickened out. Said it wasn't the right day.

Second time, he'd bought pills. Poured them into a bowl like cereal. Sat staring at it for an hour. Ended up flushing it all away.

But the third time…

The third time felt easy.

No drama. No preparation. Just a box cutter. Just warm water. Just silence.

He sat on the edge of the tub. The house empty. The city too loud outside to care.

He didn't cry. There were no tears left. He just looked at his hands, the same hands that had trained, punched, blocked, won and saw nothing left in them.

He pressed the blade to his wrist. He didn't hesitate this time.

It was warm. Sharp. Final.

As the blood slid down, slow and rich, he leaned back.

His last thought wasn't about the title. Or the fans. Or the locker.

It was about Hinata. About her soft voice. About how she had survived. And how he hadn't.

The lights dimmed. His breath shallowed. No applause. No ten-count. No ref.

Just the end. He who should been the undefeated Muay Thai fighter. He lay there - unmoving.

Fun fact: Rukon is a Reformist.

A/N: So, How was the OC Life before SI. Would love to hear your thoughts?

Chapter Text

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[QUOTE]

Timeline:

Konoha year 43: Itachi is born

Konoha year 44: Our OC (kaien) is born (4 years before Naruto was born)

Konoha year 45: Third raikage died fighting 10000 Iwa shinobi (3 years before Naruto was born)

Konoha year 47: Minato taking charge as hokage/End of 3rd great ninja war

Konoha year 48: Minato' death/Naruto is born/ Our FMC Hinata is born

MC is 4 years older than Hinata. Will not make their relation not too weird.

[/QUOTE]

The Room Was Silent Except for the Strained Breath of Aya

The air was thick with tension. The sharp scent of sweat and medicinal herbs mingled with the low, rhythmic grunts of effort. Aya Hotstushi's brow was furrowed, beads of sweat tracing paths down her flushed cheeks. The third and future fourth Raikage paced just outside the heavy wooden door, their usually confident faces marked by an unfamiliar worry.

This was no ordinary moment.

Not because of the raging war that swallowed villages and shinobi alike, that was distant thunder in comparison. This was something far more intimate, far more personal.

Aya's breath hitched again. The midwife, a woman with calm eyes and hands steady from years of experience, encouraged her softly. "One more push, Lady Aya. Soon, soon you'll hold your child."

Aya gripped the rough-woven blanket beneath her, summoning every ounce of strength she had left. The room was suffused with a pale, flickering candlelight that danced on the wooden walls, as if the shadows themselves were holding their breath.

And then—

A piercing, fragile cry shattered the silence.

Warmth and Light

Rukon's first sensations were confusion and warmth. He had not yet opened his eyes, but felt the tender grasp of small hands, soft fabric wrapped tightly around him. A rush of sensations heat, muffled voices, the dull ache of confinement.

Have I died? The thought was vague but insistent, swirling through a fog in his mind.

Am I in the afterlife? Surely, he reasoned, if he were dead, he'd see the divine judge, or some ethereal gatekeeper. Or maybe a hospital if anyone had tried to save him. But that was impossible. Nobody would have bothered.

He blinked, reluctantly pulling his eyelids apart. The first thing he saw was a woman's face, flushed and glistening with sweat, bent low over him. Her hair was tangled, dark and thick, framing eyes filled with fierce, exhausted love.

The midwife's voice cut through his swirling thoughts, calm and clear: "Lady Aya, he is a boy."

The woman holding him, Aya, gazed down at him with a mixture of relief and awe. Rukon could not explain why, but tears welled in his eyes. A strange, deep stirring of belonging tugged at him. The warmth of her arms, the softness of her voice it was like an anchor in this new and confusing existence.

Aya cooed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his brow.

Outside the Door

The footsteps of two men echoed softly down the corridor. The third Raikage, Ay Hotstushi, walked with measured steps, his expression carved from stone but his eyes betraying the hidden weight he carried. Beside him was his younger son, the future fourth Raikage, a man of raw power and fierce determination both men burdened by the ongoing war but pulled here by a more urgent concern.

They paused at the door, the muffled cries of a newborn cutting through the tension.

Just as the future fourth reached to push open the door, the midwife called out. "Raikage-sama, your daughter has given birth. Come see your grandson."

They entered quietly, the air thick with relief and unspoken emotion. The future fourth Raikage moved forward instinctively to take the baby from Aya's arms, but she held him back with a look sharp as a lightning strike.

"You may be the elder brother," Aya said, her voice steady but laced with unyielding strength, "but first our father."

The mark on his arm the scar left from their last sparring match was a testament. She had pushed herself close to the limits of her strength, nearly matching the old man himself.

The future fourth's face twisted in a mix of frustration and respect, but he stepped back, allowing their father to approach.

Ay Hotstushi took the child gently, his large hands surprisingly tender. For all the ruthless battles he had led, all the enemies he had crushed, this tiny life softened something within him.

"You have become a grandfather," Aya said softly, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

The war, the bloodshed, the loss it all seemed to fade for a moment in the presence of new life.

--

The third Raikage looked down at the baby swaddled in his daughter's arms. The child's dark eyes stared back, alive and unblinking, already calculating the world around him.

"A name," Ay mused aloud. "Have you thought of one?"

Aya hesitated, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her husband and she had planned to let her father choose, a final honor and blessing. But that honor had been taken from them months ago cut down by an assassin from Iwagakure. The silence hung heavy. With quiet resolve, Ay spoke, "Kaien." he whispered, the name already settling into the room like a prayer.

The name held power, a hope for strength and perseverance.

Inside the Rukon's Mind

Rukon, now Kaien, was trying to piece it together.

He was in the Naruto world, reborn into the Hotstushi clan of Kumogakure. A clan known for two Raikage in recent history the third and the future fourth. Strength and speed were their birthright, their legacy, their burden.

This was no ordinary rebirth.

The Third Great Ninja War raged outside, but here, within these walls, the war felt distant, almost irrelevant.

Here, strength was respect, fear, and survival.

If I had been reborn in Konoha, he thought, I would have always been a threat something to watch, something to fear for being powerful.

But here? Here, power was honored. That meant opportunity.

This battle could be deadly for kumo, if grandfather dies. I, first, have to prevent it. I don't remember the exact timeline. But, I will save him. This will be detrimental for not just kumo but for myself as well.

Fun Fact: Aya, sister of the future 4th, and daughter of 3rd. Aya is OC, Her is strength is close to 3rd Ay, she has defeated her elder brother in a battle which left scar along his chest.

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The Hotstushi Clan

The Hotstushi were known for straightforwardness: no nonsense, no deception. Their power came from unrelenting discipline and fierce pride. The two Raikage—father and son—carried the weight of the village and clan on their shoulders, renowned for lightning speed and overwhelming force.

Aya, strong-willed and nearly a match for the old man, embodied this spirit. Her pain was fierce, but her love for this child was fiercer.

The room around Rukon, Now Kaien, was simple but sturdy, the warmth of the hearth casting long shadows. Outside, war might consume countless lives, but this child was a new beginning, a chance to carve his own path.

The Burden and the Gift

What this really means is that Rukon's life will be shaped by legacy both a blessing and a curse.

He is born into expectation, into power, but also into a world on the brink of chaos. His father and grandfather are legends. His sister is fierce. And the war looms.

He will be watched, tested, and likely feared.

But here's the thing he also has space to grow in a way he never had before.

Kumo values strength, but strength tempered by honesty. This will push him to master himself and face challenges head-on.

A New Dawn

Outside, the cries of newborn Kaien echoed down the corridors of Kumogakure. The Third Raikage placed his hand on Aya's shoulder and gave a rare, faint smile.

"May he grow to be strong enough to bring peace."

The future fourth Raikage nodded silently, eyes fixed on his nephew. Inside the quiet room, Kaien let out another cry, a signal that his new life was beginning.

--

Kaien was only a week old, but his mind was anything but infantile.

He couldn't move much. Could barely lift his head. And yet, his mind raced with clarity that belonged to a man not a newborn swaddled in silk. Though he only focused on Muay Thai in his previous life. He was always a Reformist at heart.

Every day was the same. He was held to his mother's chest, fed, cooed over, kissed. Aya, his mother, loved him fiercely. Her chakra always pulsed with warmth. When she laughed, it echoed like a river in the valley, her joy so vast it almost made Kaien forget the shadows in his thoughts.

But he wasn't like other infants. Not even close.

His body was still forming, weak and helpless, but his thoughts? Sharp. His memory? Intact. Reborn? Maybe. Cursed? Possibly. Gifted? Without a doubt.

Kumo—his village, his home—was broken. Or if not broken, then asleep at the wheel.

And Kaien hated inefficiency.

During one of those long quiet hours where Aya napped with him in her arms, Kaien stared at the ceiling beams and thought of war. He remembered fragmented stories from his past life, or maybe inherited memories through chakra whatever the source, they painted a strange truth.

Kumo had the tools of the Sage of Six Paths. The Treasure Tools. The Kohaku no Jōhei. The Benihisago. The Shichiseiken. Tools that could bend language, seal souls, erase people from existence with a word and a swing. And yet... the tools sat. Gathering dust. Hoarded like sacred relics instead of weapons of deterrence.

How the hell did Kumo even get them?

He remembered vague whispers in ancient texts battlefield scavenging, betrayal between clans, or some old pact with a wandering monk. The stories differed, but one detail stayed consistent: Kumo didn't forge the tools. They inherited them. And that made all the difference.

A weapon you forge, you understand. A weapon you inherit without knowledge? You fear it. You hesitate. You store it in a vault.

Kaien's breath shuddered in his small chest. He couldn't speak. Couldn't hold a kunai. But his mind built blueprints, broke down battle doctrines.

Kumo's strength lay in its speed. Lightning chakra. Raw aggression. But aggression without clarity was just noise. They trained assassins, not diplomats. Saboteurs, not strategists. They leaned too hard on the Raikage to hold the line alone. And worse, they had no spiritual cohesion. No shared identity beyond "might makes right."

It was a village that had power, but no philosophy. That was its greatest weakness.

Weaponize the Treasure Tools Properly

If Kaien ever got close to those tools, he wouldn't treat them like ceremonial scrolls locked in an underground chamber. He'd experiment. Dissect. Reverse-engineer their chakra patterns and turn them into production models.

Even if he couldn't replicate the divine craftsmanship, he could learn how they responded to spoken word, why names were essential to their sealing process, and maybe even break down to the Benihisago's soul resonance.

He imagined a Kumo Special Ops unit trained in using miniaturized versions of the tools. Lightning-fast linguists and seal masters who could pin a name mid-fight and extract a soul before the enemy knew they were being targeted.

You didn't need an army when you had mythic-level assassins. There is still chakra isse.

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<6 months later>

The Raikage's office was warm that morning, but not from the sun. It was the kind of heat that came from too many people, too much tension, and too many thoughts sitting heavy in the air.

The Third Raikage sat behind his wide desk, back straight, shoulders like a mountain range under his robes. A man of storms contained in flesh, his very stillness felt dangerous. Beside him, his long-time assistant Renga, a wiry man with greying hair tied back sorted through a pile of reports, flipping pages with that crisp, snapping sound that always seemed to irritate the Raikage less than spoken interruptions.

Killer B lounged in the far corner, his hat pulled low, legs spread casually. Even at his age, he had that swagger that made people either grin or roll their eyes. He hummed something under his breath, rhymes forming and breaking apart like waves.

And then there was Ay. Not yet the future Fourth Raikage, but already broad-shouldered, already quick to scowl. He sat on a low sofa near the desk, arms crossed tight, the leather creaking under his weight. He wasn't paying much attention to the paper shuffle or the old men's measured words. His attention was on the small bundle in Aya's lap.

Aya, radiant in a deep blue robe, leaned back against the sofa cushions with Kaien cradled in her arms. Six months old now, he was soft-cheeked and wide-eyed, his hair a dark tuft that stubbornly refused to lie flat. His mother's voice was a constant melody above him sometimes soft and low, sometimes rising like playful wind. She traced the tip of her finger along his cheek, down the bridge of his nose, to his tiny chin.

"You're pretending not to notice me," she whispered, lips curving into a smirk. "But I can see you thinking, little storm."

Kaien didn't smile, but his gaze followed her finger with quiet focus.

Aya leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "If you keep staring like that, I might just have to kiss you until you giggle." She planted a quick kiss on his forehead, and Kaien blinked slowly, as if weighing whether to allow such an interruption to his thoughts.

"Yo, sis, give the boy some slack, let the little cloud nap in the sack," B chimed from the corner, not even looking up from fiddling with the string of his weapon's hilt.

Aya shot him a look that mixed amusement with mild exasperation. "He's not sleeping. He's thinking. Aren't you, Kaien?"

Kaien made no noise, but his eyes were intent. She grinned. "See? Deep in thought, just like his mother."

The Third Raikage's voice cut through the gentle banter.

"We've lost more than we can replace," he said, his tone flat but carrying the weight of stone. "After the Second War, the treasury is hollow. Supplies are thin. The shinobi corps are at half strength. And we will never see men like Kinkaku and Ginkaku again. Though they have disrespected the treaty between konoha and kumo. Their strength is real."

Aya's smile faded at the mention of the names. She had heard the stories since she was a girl about the two brothers whose bloodline and ferocity made them legends. In war, they were monsters in human skin, wielding the treasured tools of the Sage himself. They had held back armies, slaughtered Konoha's finest, and yet… they were gone. The details remained grim, whispered in training yards: their recklessness, their final stand, the bloody price Kumo paid to protect its borders. This is what was told.

Renga cleared his throat softly. "The loss of the Gold and Silver Brothers wasn't just manpower, Raikage-sama. It was morale. People believed in their invincibility. When they fell, some began to believe Kumo itself could fall."

The Raikage's hands rested heavily on the desk. "And so the enemy believes we are weak. The Daimyō will not grant new funds for rebuilding. If we want resources, we will take them from those who have them."

Aya shifted Kaien in her arms, her mind pulled between the hard words of her father and the soft weight of her son. Ay finally leaned forward, voice hard.

"Fath—Raikage-sama," he said, catching himself, "we can't sit still. Konoha and Iwa are bleeding each other dry in the Land of Grass. We move now, we can strike where it hurts. Take what we need. Recover faster than they can even stand."

The Raikage, not bothering about what his son just said, lifted his gaze from the paper in front of him and met his daughter's eyes. Kaien, feeling the shift in air, went very still.

Aya straightened, and her voice carried a sudden vitality he hadn't heard since before Kaien's birth. "Father, should we really get involved in war?" It wasn't doubt not exactly. It was calculation, laced with an unspoken plea: Do not waste lives for nothing.

The Raikage's silence was deliberate. Unlike his son, he didn't throw his decisions like punches. He let them build. He was calm, yes, but not gentle - steel sheathed, but never absent. When he did speak, it would be final.

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Aya straightened, and her voice carried a sudden vitality he hadn't heard since before Kaien's birth. "Father, should we really get involved in war?" It wasn't doubt not exactly. It was calculation, laced with an unspoken plea: Do not waste lives for nothing.

The Raikage's silence was deliberate. Unlike his son, he didn't throw his decisions like punches. He let them build. He was calm, yes, but not gentle - steel sheathed, but never absent. When he did speak, it would be final.

--

But for now, he studied the parchment before him. A report from a spy in the Land of Waterfalls. Frequent skirmishes between Konoha and Iwa forces in Kusagakure territory. Both sides careful to keep the flames out of their own lands, too drained from the last war to endure another full front. He tapped the edge of the paper with one thick finger.

"We could step in," Renga said quietly. "But the moment we do, we declare to both sides that Kumo is willing to bleed again."

"And we can't rely on the Daimyō to pay for the bleeding," the Raikage said without looking up. "Every ryo they had spare was drained in the last war."

"Then take from the enemy," Ay pressed. "We've done it before.

No one spoke for a while after that. The office felt smaller, the air heavy. Aya's arms tightened protectively around Kaien.

Kaien had been silent this whole time, eyes moving between each speaker, absorbing tone and posture as much as words. War. Supplies. Enemies. Any information about the war, as it mentioned in great detail in canon.

Finally, the stillness broke not from the Raikage, not from Ay, not from the assistant, but from a voice no one expected.

A small, trembling sound.

"Wh… what is waar?"

It was light, hesitant, the syllables rounded by baby softness.

Everyone turned.

Aya blinked down at her son in disbelief. She had been waiting for his first words to be mother, maybe Aya. But war? Her lips parted, but no answer came. The shock was not in the word itself—she knew Kumo children as young as three sometimes held weapons—but in the timing. He had heard the word enough to make it his first.

B let out a low whistle. "Storm's little sprout, speakin' right out. First words hit like a lightning bout."

Ay gave a short laugh, but it was humor edged with something else. "Guess he's listening closer than we thought."

Aya smoothed a hand over Kaien's hair, her throat tightening. She had wanted to shield him from this, at least until he was walking. But she knew too well—ignorance could kill faster than steel in this land.

"War," she said slowly, as if tasting the word herself, "is… when villages fight. When people hurt each other to take what they want, or protect what they have."

Kaien watched her face, reading every small flicker of hesitation.

"It's dangerous," she went on, voice softening. "It's… why your uncle trains so hard. Why your grandfather works late. And why I…" She stopped herself. No need to finish that thought, not here.

Raikage spoke up gently, as if offering her an escape. "It's when clouds gather," he said, meeting Kaien's gaze. "And lightning strikes until one side can't stand anymore."

Aya kissed her son's forehead again, but there was no teasing in it now.

The Raikage finally leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly at the boy. There was something in his gaze not suspicion, exactly, but recognition. Kaien met it without flinching.

"War," the Raikage said, voice deep and steady, "is the price people pay when talking is not enough. When resources are not available equal. When one has more than others. When they fear"

And with that, he returned his attention to the reports, the matter settled for now.

--

Aya lifted Kaien closer, brushing her nose against his hair. "Don't you worry about that now," she murmured, her teasing tone returning for his sake. "You've got more important things to do. Like figuring out if you want to walk before you talk. and Don't you go asking for a sword yet,"

Kaien blinked, as if to say both, actually.

"Mm, stubborn," she teased. "Must get that from your uncle Ay."

Ay scoffed. "From you, more like."

Killer B chuckled and did his usual, "Lil' cloud's first word ain't 'mom' or 'dad,' but 'war'? Man, that's rad. Guess he's destined for the battlefield fad."

The tension in the air finally loosening.

Renga cleared his throat. "Lord Raikage, regardless of whether we join the conflict, our resource problem won't solve itself. If we wait too long, we risk entering the next war already weakened."

The 3rd Raikage leaned back in his chair, his voice quiet but decisive. "We will watch. Let Konoha and Iwa bleed each other. If the opportunity comes to strike without overextending ourselves, we take it. But not before."

Ay looked dissatisfied but didn't argue. Aya simply held Kaien tighter.

The rest of the meeting shifted to supply chains, repair costs, and covert missions. Killer B tossed in the occasional rhyme to keep the air from turning too heavy. Aya kept teasing Kaien, tickling under his chin until he made small, breathy laughs. Even Renga, who almost never smiled, glanced over more than once.

And though the discussion was about war. Kaien said nothing more. But in his small chest, the word war echoed, heavy and cold. And though no one could see it, somewhere in the back of his young mind, plans were already taking root.

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Chapter Text

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The Raikage's office was quiet that morning too quiet for a building where messengers usually ran in and out every few minutes. The 3rd Raikage sat at his desk, one hand resting on a half-unrolled map of the continent. His eyes were sharp, but his shoulders were heavy with the weight of years of conflict.

In the corner, Ay leaned against the wall, arms crossed, impatience rolling off him like heat. It has been 2 months and we are still not participating. Killer B was slouched on the long sofa, tapping his fingers in a steady rhythm, mouthing rhymes he hadn't spoken aloud yet. Aya sat beside him with Kaien in her lap, the boy now eight months old, healthy, and far too observant for his age.

Renga was reading through a thick stack of reports, standing as always his back perfectly straight.

Then the runner arrived.

A chūnin in travel-stained gear bowed sharply and handed the scroll to Renga. He scanned it quickly, eyes narrowing.

"From our waterfall agents, Lord Raikage," she said, moving forward to place the message on his desk.

The Raikage broke the seal, eyes darting over the coded script. His lips pulled into the faintest smirk. "At last," he muttered. "The opportunity we have waited for."

--

Two months earlier, Konoha had invested heavily in reinforcing their warfront against Iwa. The constant skirmishes in the Land of Grass had bled both sides dry. The fighting was slow, costly, and brutal neither village could afford a decisive loss.

Expecting a strike from Kumo that never came, Konoha had pulled nearly a quarter of its forces stationed in the Hidden Hot Water Village to reinforce the Land of Grass. Those shinobi were now on the move three hundred trained shinobi, slipping through the continent along a stealth route.

They couldn't travel directly from the Land of Hot Water to the Land of Grass the terrain was too mountainous, too slow. Instead, they'd gone north-west, into an unclaimed country. Passing near what would one day become the Sound Village, they skirted around contested valleys, aiming to enter the Land of Grass from the east.

But nothing that large could move completely unseen.

Kumo's spies in the Land of Waterfalls had spotted them three days ago. And now the news was here.

The 3rd Raikage's voice cut through the silence. "Three hundred Konoha shinobi, exposed. Their base in the Land of Hot Water is weakened numbers cut by a quarter. This is the moment."

Ay stepped forward without hesitation. "Then we move. A battalion, eight hundred shinobi, strike hard, take the base, cut their supply lines. We can finally recover from the Second War's losses."

The Raikage nodded once, already reaching for another map. "Agreed. We mobilize at once. Ay, you will lead—"

"Wait," a small voice piped up.

--

Everyone turned.

Kaien was leaning forward in Aya's lap, one small hand gripping a folded map he'd somehow taken from the table when no one was looking. His face was serious not the blank curiosity of a baby, but the focused concentration of someone thinking.

He ignored Aya's soft, "Kaien, what are you doing?" and began to speak.

"If a lot of people go… bad people see them," Kaien said slowly, the words clear but still touched with that round softness of baby speech. "Bad people… they tell other bad people. Then bad people know we're coming."

Ay raised an eyebrow. Killer B grinned, leaning in to hear better.

"So…" Kaien's tiny finger jabbed at a spot on the map, far from the marked enemy route. "We… make them look here." He pointed again, far from the Konoha column. "With strong people, like wahhh!"—he threw both arms up for emphasis, as though mimicking a surprise attack—"And then… when they all go look… we bring lots more people… and wahhh again!"

For a second, no one moved. Aya blinked at her son. Ay's brows had risen slightly, just enough to register surprise. Renga was still, watching carefully. Killer B started to chuckle.

The 3rd Raikage threw his head back and laughed. "Hah! Out of the mouths of children." His booming voice filled the room. "He's right."

Ay frowned slightly. "You're saying—"

"I'm saying," the Raikage cut in, "that maybe I've been too eager to throw the whole battalion at them. Too predictable. Too visible. Any decent scout will see us moving long before we arrive."

He tapped the map, tracing a line with his thick finger. "But if we send only a handful elite shinobi, fast enough to reach them before word spreads they can hit hard, break the enemy's spine before their reinforcements can respond."

"And once they've struck," Renga added, "the larger force can move in to seize the base without a drawn-out battle."

"Exactly," the Raikage said, nodding. "Two blows. One to cripple, one to claim."

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Chapter Text

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"And once they've struck," Renga added, "the larger force can move in to seize the base without a drawn-out battle."

"Exactly," the Raikage said, nodding. "Two blows. One to cripple, one to claim."

It was then that Renga spoke up from his seat near the far wall. He was one of the few in Kumo who knew the Tensō no Jutsu, the Heavenly Transfer Technique.

"I can put you right in their camp," Renga said calmly. "No roads. No scouts. Straight into the heart."

Aya glanced over. "That's dangerous."

Renga gave a small smile. "True. But I don't need seals on the target location. I transport living bodies at the speed of light turning them into pure data for a split second, then re-materializing them at the destination."

Killer B whistled. "Break 'em to bits, beam 'em across, No step, no trail, no time to be lost."

"It's… difficult," Renga admitted. "The strain is enormous, especially with more than one person at a time. The reassembly process is unforgiving lose focus for a fraction. They are only meant for inanimate objects as human body can't take such strain."

The Raikage leaned forward. "How many can you move safely?"

"Two, maybe three at a time, objects" Renga replied.

The Raikage nodded. "Then we use you to drop our strongest right into the enemy's camp. Ay. B. I am confident they can withstand such pressures. We strike, cripple their chain of command, and secure the main storehouses. By the time their scattered units understand what's happening, the battalion arrives to finish the job."

--

As the room fell into the rhythm of planning Renga noting supply requirements, Ay arguing over the number of medics, Killer B humming a fast-paced beat Aya looked down at Kaien.

Her son was still staring at the map, little brow furrowed.

"You've been listening too much, little one," she murmured. "This is grown-up talk."

Kaien looked up at her. "Is… is war… always like hide-and-seek?"

Aya hesitated. "…Sometimes. But the one you don't find… is the one who finds you first."

Kaien nodded, as though this made perfect sense. "Then… we find first."

The Raikage heard him and grinned. "A simple truth, spoken simply. We find first."

He stood, towering over the room. "Ay.B. Make preparations. Renga, prepare your Jutsu. "

Everyone moved, the quiet tension giving way to the pulse of action.

And in Aya's lap, Kaien held onto the map with both small hands, watching as war took shape around him understanding, in his own way, that the storm he was born into was about to break again.

--

Renga was kneeling in the center of the Raikage's war room, eyes shut, hands already forming the first seal. His breathing was steady measured in the way of someone who knew that even a flicker of hesitation could turn the next few seconds into disaster.

"Ay-sama," he said without looking up, "ready yourself."

Ay stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. The familiar crackle of chakra built around him, brighter and sharper with each breath. In a heartbeat, the Lightning Release Armor flared to life raw blue-white energy racing along his frame, wrapping him in a second skin of electricity. It wasn't just for speed; it hardened his body, sharpened his reflexes, and put every muscle fiber on the edge of explosive movement. The air around him hummed and hissed.

"B-sama," Renga continued.

Killer B grinned, already in motion. Eight thick, muscular tails of Gyūki's chakra erupted from his lower back, curling protectively around him like the coils of a massive serpent. He didn't fully transform, he had yet to learn full transformation, but the partial transformation was a battlefield terror in itself. Each tail could strike, block, or crush with terrifying force. Gyūki's bulk rippled under the chakra skin, a living armor only a Jinchūriki could wield.

"You ready, little bro?" B asked Ay, voice dripping with that lazy swagger.

Ay's only answer was a short nod.

Aya shifted in her seat on the sofa, Kaien balanced in her lap. She wasn't smiling this time. The boy's dark eyes followed every movement of Ay, B, and Renga, absorbing details no child his age should even care about.

Tensō no Jutsu

Renga brought his hands together into a single Ram seal.

"This will hurt," he warned simply.

There was no time for a reply. Space itself seemed to shimmer. Ay and B's bodies dissolved into countless motes of white light,no outline, no shadow, just raw data streaming in all directions faster than thought. The air where they'd stood snapped shut behind them.

Kaien had seen this technique before, when Mabui had used it in the future to bring Ay and Tsunade to the Fourth War battlefield. But watching it happen from a meter away was different. The hairs on his arms rose. Something about the way reality itself bent unsettled him, even without fully understanding it.

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Chapter Text

Twenty kilometers away, deep in the Land of Hot water, the motes reformed with a sharp rush of displaced air.

Ay hit the ground on his feet, armor still crackling, completely unscathed.

B wasn't as lucky. Two of his tails, the outermost ones, were gone, burned away by the incredible strain of the Tensō transfer. The other six sizzled and smoked, the heat so intense it left deep scorch marks in the dirt beneath him. Gyūki's low growl rumbled through the air, a sound only B could hear.

"That's on you," the bijū's voice echoed in his head, half-pain, half-scolding. "You didn't keep your chakra flow steady during the jump. I told you balance it, or parts of me get stripped away mid-transfer."

B winced but didn't argue. The tails were already regenerating. That was a drain he didn't need this early in the mission.

--

B's first instinct was to move. "Straight to their base, break through, flatten 'em, then we—"
"No." Ay's voice was flat. "We don't know what's waiting. We watch first."

It wasn't just caution, it was a quiet admission. The boy's earlier suggestion about avoiding predictable movements had stuck in his mind. Pride didn't erase the fact that rushing headlong was a risk.

They began moving at a steady pace, keeping low. At their full speed, they could have crossed the distance in minutes. But they advanced slowly, pausing to study the terrain. The Land of Frost was quiet this far north snow still clung to the shaded slopes, the air carrying that sharp, brittle cold that made breath steam in the open.
At the five-kilometer mark, Ay froze. His eyes had caught movement three figures ahead, half-hidden by the ridgeline. Not Konoha troops proper these were forward scouts.

The kind that relayed enemy approach long before the main force could see them.

Ay's body blurred once by the time B caught up, the three scouts were lying motionless in the snow, no sound escaping them.

"Fast," B murmured. "Too fast for 'em to scream."

--

They continued forward, now with Gyūki's senses on full alert. It was the tailed beast who spoke first.

Gyūki said in B's head. "There is a dense chakra concentration in this area."

B relayed it to Ay. Both men shifted course.
What they found was not what either expected.
The camp wasn't just a temporary outpost it was built over an active mining site. From the rocky floor, pale, faintly glowing fragments were being pried loose by a team of Konoha shinobi and sealed into storage crates.

"Chakra ore," Ay murmured, eyes narrowing. "Refined, boxed, ready to move. At least a hundred containers."

It wasn't rare enough to be legendary, but chakra ore wasn't something you stumbled on by accident either. It could be used to forge weapons that amplified jutsu, to create armor resistant to certain elements, even to fuel barrier seals for months without restocking.

Ay's mind was already calculating. Mining this much meant Konoha had invested time, labor, and secrecy here. Losing it would hurt them and handing it to Kumo would tip the balance.

--

They didn't rush in roaring. The first kills were silent, two guards cut down before they saw a shadow.

But once the first body hit the ground, chaos bloomed.

Ay stayed on the perimeter, cutting down anyone who tried to flee. His Lightning Armor made him untouchable kunai bounced, fire jutsu glanced off, even wind release barely slowed him. Each strike he threw left bone-deep wounds, sometimes crushing through rib and spine with a single hit.

B waded into the thick of it, six tails smashing in wide arcs. Each blow was enough to throw men like ragdolls. Gyūki's chakra cloaked him, protecting against kunai and most elemental attacks. The few that broke through barely scratched him.

But they were careful too much chakra in one attack could destabilize the mine. A wide-area blast could collapse tunnels, burying the ore and themselves. That meant no Tailed Beast Bombs, no full-strength Lariat from Ay. Every kill had to be precise.

The enemy wasn't weak. Among the miners were squads of battle-ready elite jōnins stationed here both to protect the site and to respond to emergencies. They fought hard, and they fought smart. Earth walls cut off sightlines. Water techniques tried to douse Ay's lightning. Wind blades aimed for the thinner joints of B's tails.
That was when the hours began to stretch.

--

Fighting for hours wasn't like a short duel. Even without using their most devastating moves, Ay and B's chakra levels dropped steadily.

The Lightning Release Armor required constant output, Ay's speed and strength were paid for with a slow, continuous leak of chakra. Every dodge, every strike burned more.

B's partial transformation was worse. Holding Gyūki's chakra in that stable form required active control. Every tail strike, every blocked hit, every regeneration of lost flesh took more. The lost two tails from the Tensō had already been regrown, but that alone had cost as much chakra as a large-scale jutsu.

There was also mental fatigue. Keeping senses sharp, tracking enemies in three dimensions, predicting their moves it all took concentration. Hours of that, layered over constant physical movement, burned through stamina faster than most people realized.

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Chapter Text

Twelve Hours Later

The last jōnin fell under Ay's palm, his chest caving in with the force of the blow. Steam rose from B's tails where blood and snow had met.
The mine was silent except for the faint drip of melting frost.

They didn't stop. For the next six hours, they combed the surrounding territory in widening circles. Anyone who had fled earlier was hunted down. No runners, no messengers. If even one shinobi made it to another Konoha post, the entire strike would be for nothing.

By the end, the snow was scattered with dark stains, the air heavy with the metallic tang of blood.

--

Konoha's losses were staggering, eight hundred and fifty dead, most of them caught in a fight they hadn't expected. Around fifty had escaped the initial battle, only to be buried under rockslides, run down in the snow, or cut down before they could cross the Frost border. The mine was theirs intact, fully stocked.
Kumo's losses were none. But that didn't mean the strike was free.

Ay's lightning cloak flickered weakly now, the glow uneven, his body marked with bruises where repeated impacts had finally forced through his guard. B's breathing was heavy, Gyūki silent in his head, resting. They had chakra left, enough to fight a small unit, maybe but not enough to challenge another kage-level shinobi if one appeared.

They both knew it.

The Retreat

"We go," Ay said finally. "Before someone stronger comes."

They left nothing behind. The last crates of chakra ore were sealed, the mining tunnels blocked to prevent collapse, and a coded report was sent by messenger hawk one to the Raikage himself, one to rally the Kumo shinobi stationed elsewhere in Frost to secure the site.

By the time they vanished into the snow, the Land of Hot water base was nothing but a graveyard.
And far away in Kumo, Kaien sat on Aya's lap as the first fragments of that report arrived—eyes wide, already imagining the next move before the ink had even dried.

--

Three days passed

Along the border of the Land of Hot Water, where Konoha and Kumo forces had clashed only a week ago, the air hung heavy. The battlefield lay untouched—dead bodies half-buried in drifting snow, weapons scattered where they had been dropped mid-swing. No messengers had returned to Konoha. No birds had flown south with urgent reports.

In Konoha's forward camp miles away, frustration was boiling. The silence wasn't natural. Even in defeat, some word should have come back. Instead, they had nothing—no warning, no count of survivors, not even a rumor. The commanders knew what that meant.

Someone had erased the entire line.

--

The Kumo reinforcements moved like a dark wave over the snow-covered terrain. Eight hundred shinobi—jōnin, chūnin, and a scattering of genin for logistics—had crossed into Hot water. They had marched for three days straight, pausing only for the briefest rests, rotating point teams so no single unit collapsed from exhaustion, while Ay & Bee were fighting against konoha.

Their faces told the story. The younger shinobi carried wide eyes and stiff shoulders—half excitement, half fear. The veterans were quieter, eyes scanning every rise and hollow for signs of movement. They had all heard about the destruction of the Konoha base, but hearing it and seeing it were two different things.

One hundred more shinobi had arrived the day before, already setting up a camp in two distinct locations—one just ten kilometers from the ruins of the Konoha stronghold, the other twenty-five kilometers back. It wasn't random.

The Raikage's orders were clear:

The first front would be close enough to strike and defend the captured territory.The second front would stay far enough to guard supplies, rest incoming troops, and act as reinforcement if Konoha tried a counterattack. and the second front would also provide support on Iwa front if necessary.

The split was practical and oddly familiar.

--

When Ay had issued those orders, some of the senior captains had exchanged glances. This wasn't standard Kumo field doctrine. It was a layered defense—a staggered positioning meant to keep front-line fighters fresh and prevent supply depots from being overrun.

It was the kind of thinking Ay had dismissed before… until a certain nephew might have suggested the idea.

2 days back in Raikage's office, Kaien had babbled over a map, pointing with tiny fingers—moving carved soldier tokens from the "front" to the "back" and back again. Then he'd pushed a pile of "supplies" (in reality, dried beans from Aya's kitchen) far behind the little wooden fort.

Aya had laughed, calling it just baby play. But Ay had stared at it longer than he admitted. Now, with real shinobi instead of carved tokens, the system was in place.

Two fronts. Rotating tired fighters. Supplies kept far from immediate danger. Reinforcements within reach of both the Hot water mine and the Iwa border.

The Raikage wouldn't say it aloud, but he knew where the seed of the plan had come from.

Chapter Text

The 300-strong elite force that took the forward position was handpicked. Many were veterans of border skirmishes with Iwa and Kiri. They understood the need for immediate readiness. Even tired from the march, they moved with discipline—fortifying the captured Konoha base, securing the perimeter, and stationing watch teams in concealed high-ground positions.

The second front, with its 500 shinobi, felt different. This was the rest zone, the fallback. Fires burned in neat rows of dugout hearths, tents were pitched in staggered patterns to break the wind, and medics circulated with warming salves and chakra replenishment pills. The exhausted shinobi who had just arrived collapsed onto sleeping mats without shame.

Even here, sentries patrolled the edges. The Raikage's orders were blunt—rest didn't mean vulnerability.

--

Three days had been enough for the two legends to return to full strength. Ay's Lightning Armor flared bright again without flicker. B's eight tails were whole, the burnt scent of their regeneration long gone. Gyūki was quieter, content to let B move without constant commentary.

Ay wasted no time. The 100 chakra ore containers taken from Konoha had already been sealed and sent back to Kumo under heavy guard. They would be under Raikage's personal oversight until the council decided how to distribute them whether for weapon crafting, seal reinforcement, or direct chakra storage.

--

"Thirty of you," Ay barked, pointing to a mix of chūnin and jōnin in the forward camp. "Scour the battlefield. Take anything of use—scrolls, weapons, rations. If they wore it or carried it, and it's worth something, we keep it."

The spoils of war were more than trophies. Konoha steel was high quality. Their ration packs could feed Kumo squads for weeks. Scrolls might carry coded intel worth entire campaigns.

The collection teams moved out in squads of three, careful to watch for traps. Even in death, Konoha shinobi were dangerous—sealing tags could be hidden in armor, chakra-triggered kunai could be lodged in corpses. Everybody was searched with methodical precision.

By midday, the piles began to grow. Weapons, pouches, unbroken armor plates. Sealed scroll tubes that would go straight to Kumo's cryptanalysis unit. Even the enemy's winter gear was stripped—Kumo's logistics officers knew there was no reason to waste supply lines on items already lying on the field.

--

The shinobi who had marched for three days straight looked like they'd aged a year in that time. Walking into the second camp, they dropped their packs with dull thuds, hands stiff from the cold. The medics moved among them immediately—checking feet for frostbite, handing out hot broth, kneading warmth into cramped muscles.

Some fell asleep sitting upright. Others stared into the fire, eyes unfocused. One young chūnin laughed too loud at something trivial—a common sign of nerves finally breaking after days of constant readiness.

In Raikage's scrolls, there was a line about war of attrition:

A tired shinobi is a dead shinobi. Rotate, rest, and return stronger.

The second front was proof of that principle. Here, they could recover without leaving the war entirely.

--

Back in Kumo, Kaien sat in Aya's lap on the wide veranda, watching the winter sun glint off the mountain snow. In front of him was a rough map carved into the wooden floor with chalk lines. Two circles for the two fronts. A rectangle far back for the supply camp.

In Kaien's mind, the circles were like toy drums—one beating while the other rested. When the first drum grew tired, the second would take its place. Supplies were the toy chest—always behind him, never near the other drums where they might get stolen.

His little hand tapped the front circle twice, then slid a carved soldier piece back to the second circle. Aya thought he was just playing again.

But if anyone had been watching closely, they would have realized:The boy wasn't just moving pieces. He was running a simulation.

--

With Ay, B, and the 300 elites securing it, the chakra ore mine began operation again within a day.

Kumo miners—civilian specialists guarded by shinobi—moved in. Their work was slow and meticulous. Chakra ore couldn't just be ripped from the ground; it had to be drawn out in stable fragments to prevent unstable discharge. Each shard was sealed into reinforced crates, marked for transport.

The mining tunnels still bore the marks of Konoha's labor. Timber supports, pulley systems, and even a small water channel for moving heavier loads. Ay ordered none of it destroyed—it all served Kumo now.

By the second night, the first rotation began. A squad from the forward camp, eyes heavy from long watch shifts, marched back to the second front along with that day's chakra ore containers. Fresh shinobi from the rear took their place.

The change was immediate. Alert eyes replaced the tired ones on the walls. Rested chakra reserves stood ready where drained ones had been.

B watched it happen with a grin. "Little man's idea's workin'," he said to Ay.

Ay didn't answer. But his gaze lingered on the horizon, where the Konoha border lay quiet—for now.

--

The Land of Frost was calm in those days after the strike. Too calm. Everyone knew it wouldn't last. Somewhere in the south, Konoha was regrouping, deciding whether to strike back here or divert their strength to another front.

In the meantime, Kumo held the mine, the spoils, and two fronts of rested, rotating shinobi.

And in Kumo's mountains, a child barely able to walk kept rearranging his carved soldiers on the veranda floor already thinking three moves ahead.

A/N: Do let me know your thoughts on the war arc..

Chapter Text

In the cool, dimly lit chamber of Konoha's upper council, voices rose and fell like tides. The floor was strewn with maps of the Land of Hot Water and the surrounding borders. Flickering candles cast long shadows across the faces of elders, strategists, and the veteran ninja who bore the scars of countless battles.

Dan Kato, Konoha's seasoned tactical commander, stood firmly at the head of the table. His weathered face was tight with focus, eyes scanning the maps as if trying to will the enemy into retreat. He knew the truth that everyone tried to deny.

"We've had no word from our forward base for three days," Dan began, voice steady but sharp. "No scouts have returned. No messengers. That silence... it screams defeat."

Murmurs spread among the council members. One of them, a sharp-eyed older man, nodded grimly.

A younger advisor leaned forward eagerly. "Exactly. If their shinobi are tired from the fight, it's the perfect time to strike. Retake the base before they fortify it any further."

Dan nodded slowly, folding his arms. "Agreed. They have no reinforcements nearby. We can muster 300 shinobi enough to overwhelm a tired garrison and reclaim the base. We can't waste this chance."

Dan continued, "Kumo's elite jōnin punch far above their weight. We need careful planning, but we must not hesitate. Exhaustion won't stop them from fighting to the death for this mine"

Dan tapped the table decisively. "Better a hard fight now than a drawn-out war of attrition." [A/N: Muhahaha, you were wrong spirit guy]

The council nodded in agreement, finalizing their decision. The operation to retake the base was set in motion.

--

The Scroll from Kumo has arrived

Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers away in the cold stronghold of Kumo, Ay sat quietly as a scroll was handed to him by a messenger ninja. The seal of the Third Raikage was unmistakable.

Ay's fingers trembled slightly as he broke the seal and unfurled the parchment. The message was brief, but its meaning was unmistakable:

"If you notice any movement from Konoha attempting to reclaim the base, all Kumo shinobi must feign weakness and lure the enemy into our trap. Then strike decisively—leave no survivors."

Ay's eyes flickered across the room to where Killer Bee was sharpening his blades, humming a lazy tune. The plan was clear.

--

Kaien, seated on his mother Aya's lap nearby, tugged lightly at her sleeve. "Bad guys," he said with a serious expression, "they would notice no message came. So they'll think our people fought very hard and got tired."

Aya smiled gently. "And what do you think will happen then, little one?"

Kaien's eyes sparkled. "Bad guys will zoom to take the base. Our guys play... blehh," he made a tired face and slumped his head onto Aya's shoulder, "and when bad guys come—woosh! Our guys doom doom beat bad guys!"

Ay chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Do you want to take my place as Raikage?"

Without hesitation, Kaien looked up and said, "No."

Ay laughed, nodding. "Like mother, like son."

--

True to the plan, Kumo sent out a few elite sensor shinobi to monitor Konoha's movements. Within hours, the scouts returned breathless.

"Three hundred shinobi, moving fast," one whispered. "They're heading straight for our base."

Ay, Killer Bee, and the commanders exchanged grim looks.

"Time to play dead," Killer Bee said with a grin.

The Trap is Set. In the forward camp, shinobi lay scattered like casualties, some motionless, others breathing shallowly, eyes half-closed as if drained of will. A few twitched just enough to avoid suspicion.

Ay and Killer Bee vanished into nearby woods, shadows among shadows, waiting.

Every muscle tensed as the enemy approached.

--

Dan Kato Leads the Charge

At the head of the Konoha force, Dan Kato crouched low, leading three hundred shinobi across the barren field toward the once-lost base.

His breath formed white clouds in the frosty air. "Keep formation tight," he ordered. "Watch for traps. We must not let them surprise us."

The forward scouts had not reported any resistance yet. Perhaps the enemy was truly tired, or worse, caught off guard.

Behind a cluster of frosted pines, Ay whispered into the leaf of a nearby tree. "Remember Kaien's plan. They expect us weak. We'll let them believe it... then strike when they're close."

Killer Bee flexed his fingers around his swords. "The time for lazy rhymes is over. Let's give 'em a show."

--

The Konoha force moved carefully, the ruins of their old base looming ahead. The snow was stained dark with the remnants of battle, but still silent.

Then, from the shadows—woosh—lightning crackled as Ay struck from behind a tree, cutting down the first Konoha soldier.

Simultaneously, Killer Bee's tails whipped through the air, knocking shinobi to the ground before they could react.

The ambush was sudden, brutal, and devastating.

--

From a hidden vantage point, Kaien clapped his hands softly. "Doom doom," he whispered, eyes wide with the thrill of victory.

Aya smiled, watching her son grow from a playful child into a strategist beyond his years.

--

A/N: Guess who will be the Fourth Hokage?

Chapter Text

<Few minutes earlier>

The smoke from Kumo's signal fires had barely thinned when the first tremors struck the ground. The warning from the Konoha sensor unit came a heartbeat too late.

"Two massive chakra signatures approaching! It's—Lord Ay and the Eight-Tails Jinchūriki!"

Dan Katō's expression tightened. The camp had been resting—half-reclined shinobi with weapons stacked beside them, cooks stirring thin rations, genin cleaning wounds. That fragile moment of respite shattered under the sensor's cry.

--

Then the ground itself tore open.

Dozens of Kumo shinobi, who had lain buried under earth with chakra-suppression cloaks, erupted from beneath Konoha's camp like a swarm of black-scaled serpents. Kunai and lightning-charged spears stabbed into startled genin and chunin before most even reached for their weapons.

Screams cut through the air. Fifty young shinobi crumpled in seconds, their bodies twitching with burns or pinned to the dirt. Blood sprayed across the mess-tents and supply crates.

The veterans reacted.

Elite jōnin spun into motion, hands flashing through seals, blades snapping from scabbards. Elemental blasts roared out: water torrents, wind slicing blades, fire streams igniting the Kumo ambushers. The camp became a storm of counterstrikes.

Dan Katō's voice rose over the chaos. "Formation Gamma! Drive them out of the camp perimeter—now!"

His frustration burned hotter than the fires spreading across supply wagons. He had expected Kumo to regroup after the last skirmish, not strike within hours. Konoha shinobi didn't have a complete rest or even a night's breath.

But he understood why. If Konoha rested, Kumo would recover its momentum.

That is what was supposed to be the situation but here all kumo shinobi seems to be in their complete strength and they are expecting us. Is there a spy in the camp? and worst of all now Ay himself was leading.

The Lightning Commander crashed into view, a blur of living thunder. His Lightning Release Armor blazed blue, arcs dancing along his arms and shoulders. He moved faster than the eye could track, tearing through Konoha shinobi like paper screens. Bones cracked under his elbow smashes, shields split, and earth walls shattered with every hit.

Beside him, Killer B came bounding, blades already in hand. Seven swords glinted as he spun, slashed, and stabbed, moving in a flowing, erratic rhythm that left jōnin struggling just to defend. And when his blades couldn't reach, the raw chakra of the Eight-Tails seeped out, black tendrils swatting aside attackers like flies.

Dan Katō's gut sank. This wasn't just a raid. It was extermination.

"Konoha sensor corps—track Ay's movements only! Leave B to the strike units!" he barked. His own hands blurred through seals. "Spirit Transformation!"

His body slumped, vacant-eyed, as his spirit form tore free—a blazing white phantom that screamed across the battlefield. The spectral form dove at Ay, aiming to take over his body.

But Ay's reflexes were monstrous. Lightning armor flared, and with a speed that blurred beyond normal human sight, he sidestepped. The spirit lashed empty air.

Dan cursed. His spirit spun and lunged again, and again Ay danced aside, his instincts saving him at the last instant.

So this is man is the Raikage's son, Dan thought bitterly. Even death itself can't pin him.

On the ground, Konoha's forces shifted under his shouted commands.

"Do not meet them head-on!" Dan's voice carried even as his body remained collapsed. "Tire them out! Split them apart!"

He knew Ay and B together were a hurricane. To fight them side by side was suicide. But their stamina had limits—even the Eight-Tails' host couldn't fight forever, not while juggling swords and suppressing bijuu chakra. And Ay, for all his raw power, burned chakra like wildfire every second his lightning armor flared.

[A/N: Bee is suppressing his bijuu chakra. So as to not damage the chakra ore mine]

So the plan was simple: drag them into the mud, bleed them slowly, and separate them.

Wind users formed squads to harry Ay, pushing him back with slicing gales and forcing him to overcommit with bursts of speed. Earth users raised walls to isolate him, guiding his charge into dead zones where traps lay. Every time he shattered free, another set of shinobi pulled back, never clashing head-on, always forcing him to chase.

Meanwhile, water and fire teams swarmed B. His swords danced, cutting down shinobi in sprays of blood, but Konoha didn't stay still. Water users soaked his footing, making the soil slippery, breaking his flow. Fire users ignited the mist, turning the field into a furnace that forced him to burn more chakra.

The battlefield howled with clash after clash.

Ay smashed through a line of jōnin, his fist punching through an earth dome and collapsing it in an explosion of stone. But before he could follow through, Dan's spirit form lunged again, forcing him to twist, disrupting his charge. Behind him, a squad of explosive tag specialists hurled volleys that blew chunks of dirt into the air, filling his vision.

B whirled, his seven blades dripping crimson. A young chunin charged recklessly and was cut down, but the death created a half-second distraction. Three jōnin seized it, slamming chains of sealing tags across B's arms. He roared, chakra flaring red-black as the Hachibi inside him lent its fury. The chains snapped like threads, but every flare cost more chakra.

Dan's jaw clenched in his still body. His spirit soared, weaving between comrades, striking again and again, not to kill but to disrupt. Every moment Ay hesitated meant another squad could regroup. Every time B raged, another seal could be slipped into place, even if only for seconds.

But the cost was blood.

Konoha shinobi screamed as Ay tore through them with the unstoppable momentum. Every time he accelerated, someone died. Every time B spun, a cluster of bodies fell. Already a hundred lay broken across the camp, many too mangled for burial.

Still, Konoha refused to break.

Dan's frustration turned into iron resolve. He had to keep Ay locked on him, keep B busy, until the attrition ground them down. This wasn't a battle that would be won in minutes. It was survival through hours.

"Hold the line!" his spirit bellowed, though only the strongest could sense it. "Make them bleed for every step!"

The war of attrition had begun in full again.

[Ay & B, after the battle against the 850 konoha shinobi, even though his chakra has recovered. Their bodies are tired]
[1st battle: Konoha loses 850 shinobi, kumo loses none]
[2nd battle: Konoha loses 80 shinobi, kumo loses 50]

--

A/N: In war, the strong pretend to be weak, the perfect pretend to be tired, and the tired pretend to be perfect. War itself is deception.

Chapter Text

The battlefield smelled of iron and smoke. Broken kunai, shattered earth, and scorch marks stretched across the ruined camp that had once been Konoha's foothold in the Land of Hot Water. Now it was just a graveyard where both sides clawed at each other in desperation.

Dan Kato's blade slammed against Ay's forearm, sparks leaping as the Raikage's flickering Lightning Armor sputtered like a storm lantern about to die. Ay's breathing was ragged now, his chest heaving. Each step seemed heavier than the last, but his eyes—those sharp, predatory eyes—were still locked on Dan.

Dan was, in an even worse situation, pale with fatigue. His chakra was stretched thin from summoning his Spirit Transformation jutsu again and again, sending his spectral form darting through the battlefield to harass Kumo shinobi while his real body fought Ay. He knew he was gambling with every use. But if he didn't keep pressure on Ay, Konoha's line would crumble.

"You're slowing down, Raikage," Dan panted, his sword steady but his arms trembling slightly. "All that lightning isn't infinite. Once it's gone, you're just another brute with fists."

Ay smirked through the exhaustion, his voice hoarse. "And you're just another man… who talks too much." He lunged forward, his fist whipping past Dan's guard with a burst of sparks. Dan barely managed to twist aside, the blow grazing his shoulder and tearing fabric. His arm went numb for an instant.

They circled each other, predators both too tired to strike cleanly but too proud to yield.

--

The East Flank

On the east side, Killer B was equally worn down. He hadn't dared to unleash Gyūki's full chakra; Ay had ordered him to fight without it, to conserve and avoid collateral damage of the chakra ore mine. Now, six of Gyūki's tails twitched behind him in partial manifestation, each sizzling with chakra burns left by Renga's earlier teleportation.

Inoichi Yamanaka's forehead glistened with sweat. He had threaded his Mind Body Switch jutsu into the melee again and again, forcing B to stumble or miss a beat. Choza stood beside him, already expanded into his massive Multi-Size form, fists like boulders swinging in heavy arcs to pen B in.

"Choza, left flank!" Inoichi shouted, eyes narrowed as his chakra threads lashed out.

B ducked low, rapping nonsense even through clenched teeth. "Yo, yo, too slow, here I go—!" He skidded under Choza's arm, one tail smacking upward to knock the giant fist away. The impact shook the ground, dust exploding outward.

Choza winced tiredly. "He's still fast, Inoichi. We can't let him keep slipping through, he'll break our line if he gets loose."

"I know," Inoichi said gasping grimly, "but look at him. His movements are lagging. His chakra flow's uneven. He's running on fumes."

And it was true. Killer B's breathing was shallow, his shoulders hunched. Every time he lashed out, his recovery was a little slower. Every counter took just a heartbeat longer to prepare. He was down to conserving chakra using Gyūki's tails defensively instead of attacking wildly.

For a moment, the three of them stood in a grim stalemate, neither side able to break the other.

--

Meanwhile, across the broader battlefield, the shinobi of both villages were tearing each other apart.

Konoha's chunin and genin pressed in hard, refusing to give Kumo time to breathe. They knew their only chance was to smother the enemy before reinforcements could arrive. Explosions ripped the earth, kunai strings and paper bombs weaving traps through the ruins.

But Kumo fought like wolves. Their endurance training under the Third Raikage had forged them into soldiers who knew how to grind wars into attrition. Even tired, even wounded, they struck with precision.

A young Konoha chunin vaulted forward, kunai aimed for a Kumo jounin's throat only for a lightning-coated tanto to pierce his chest midair. He fell before he could scream. Elsewhere, a pair of Aburame unleashed clouds of kikaichū, only for a Kumo sensor-nin to scatter them with a wide-wave lightning release, frying the insects in an instant.

Still, Konoha's desperation lent them ferocity. For every Kumo jonin that cut down a genin, two more Konoha shinobi lunged at his back. Blood soaked the ground as both sides refused to break.

--

Dan's Spirit Transformation lashed out again, his chakra form plunging straight into Ay's chest. The Raikage staggered, grunting as the spectral blade tore through his chakra coils. But Ay didn't fall. With a roar, he backhanded the spirit with raw lightning, forcing Dan's projection to flicker and snap back into his body.

Dan staggered, gasping. "He's… pushing through it? Impossible—"

Ay's armor flickered, sparks crawling across his shoulders. His knees buckled for a split second, then straightened. He spat blood and glared. "Your tricks won't stop me. A wall doesn't bend...it breaks what collides with it."

Dan gritted his teeth. He was nearing his limit, but so was Ay. Every swing now was slower, every dodge sloppier. It was a contest of who would collapse first.

Chapter Text

East Flank

Choza slammed both fists down, the shockwave knocking B backward. Inoichi's chakra thread caught him for a moment, freezing his left arm mid-swing.

"Now!" Inoichi barked.

Choza's giant palm came down but at the last second, one of Gyūki's tails whipped up, bracing against the ground. The impact shattered dirt, but B slipped free, rolling clear. He was breathing hard now, sweat soaking his brow.

"Yo… you're tough, fat stuff," B panted, grinning weakly. "But the rhyme's still mine… and I'll stand the test of time."

"Save your breath," Inoichi snapped, already weaving signs to try and snare him again. Both sides were bleeding chakra fast.

--

A tremor rolled across the battlefield. Konoha shinobi paused, sensing the surge of chakra signatures rushing closer.

And then they arrived, 150 Kumo shinobi, from the second front they have set up previously from the north, their banners snapping in the wind. Supplies slung across their backs, fresh weapons glinting, food pills in hand.

A howl of triumph rose from the exhausted Kumo fighters already on the field. The tide shifted instantly. The newcomers rushed into formation, handing out supplies and chakra restoratives as they surged forward. Spent shinobi gulped pills, wrapped bandages, and leapt back into the fray with renewed vigor.

Suddenly, Konoha's advance stalled. Where before their exhausted foes had faltered, now they were striking with fresh strength. And their morale was struck.

A squad of Konoha genin was cut down in seconds by reinvigorated Kumo jonin. Paper bombs were countered with lightning bursts. Traps were dismantled with sheer force. The battlefield's rhythm changed and Dan Kato felt it in his bones. Then the commanders of both sides realize the shift.

Dan parried Ay's strike with the flat of his blade, both of them nearly collapsing from fatigue. But then he saw it: the fresh Kumo banners piercing the battlefield haze, their shinobi roaring as they cut down his men.

His stomach turned to stone.

"No…" he whispered.

Across the field, Inoichi's eyes widened too. "Choza! Reinforcements..they're here already!"

Choza grimaced, still holding B at bay. "We can't… hold this line."

B laughed breathlessly, pointing at the arriving comrades. "Yo! The gang's all here—your end is near!"

Dan's face twisted with frustration. He'd gambled everything on breaking Kumo before their reinforcements could arrive. And he had lost that gamble.

"Damn it," he muttered. His mind raced. Retreat was the only option but to turn their backs now would mean slaughter.

--

Kumo's rejuvenated shinobi surged forward. The exhausted Konoha Shinobi struggled to keep up, their formation crumbling under the pressure.

Dan shouted above the chaos: "Retreat! Fighting withdrawal, spread formation... don't give them our backs! Buy each other time!"

His Spirit Transformation lashed out one more time, not to strike Ay but to harass the nearest Kumo squad, slowing their advance.

Inoichi and Choza redoubled their efforts, pulling back while keeping B pinned just long enough for their comrades to retreat. Choza took a slash across the ribs but didn't flinch, swatting B away with a massive palm before shrinking down to carry two wounded chunin on his back.

Kumo pressed hard, their morale surging. But Konoha didn't break. Even in retreat, they fought tooth and nail, hurling kunai, weaving barriers, detonating traps as they pulled back step by step.

The field became chaos Konoha desperately trying to disengage, Kumo desperately trying to finish them. And in the center of it all, Dan Kato locked eyes with Ay one last time.

"You win today, Kumo," Dan said, voice raw. "But the war isn't over."

Ay, chest heaving, said nothing. His Lightning Armor flickered weakly, but his fists were still raised.

--

By the time night fell, the battlefield belonged to Kumo. Konoha had retreated in bloodied fragments, leaving behind corpses and broken weapons. The ruined base was once again firmly in Kumo's hands.

Ay slumped against a boulder - tired. Bee collapsed beside him, muttering tired rhymes even as Gyūki scolded him in the back of his mind.

The Kumo shinobi roared in victory, but the commanders knew better. They had won the battle. Ay and Bee were spent, their chakra reserves dangerously low. The front was secure for now, but Konoha would not stop here.

And far away, in Konoha's council chambers, Dan Kato's report would ignite furious debate about whether to double down or withdraw entirely.

The brothers had to be ready for anything. Yet Konoha didn't attack for over a month. After suffering such a major loss, they couldn't risk another battle they were likely to lose. Instead, they focused on preparing for the clash to come.

After strengthening the base, Ay and Bee left to the head quarters and the chakra mining continued.

A/N:

Guys, thinking of a naruto fanfic for Kimimaro, i believe his potential was also wasted with the illness and his bones could have evolved to the level of all killing ash bones...

still working on the idea, i just got... would love to hear your thoughts?

[1st battle: Konoha loses 850 shinobi, kumo loses none]
[2nd battle: Konoha loses 150 shinobi, kumo loses 100]

Chapter Text

<One month Passed>

The meeting chamber inside the Hokage Residence was heavy with smoke from the braziers, but heavier still with silence. For the past hour, no one had dared speak above a measured tone, as if raising their voices would somehow admit how badly Konoha had been struck on the Kumogakure front. Scrolls and maps littered the low table, red ink bleeding into the borders of Fire Country where new reports came in every day.

A thousand shinobi lost.

Not in years of grinding attrition, not in a long-drawn campaign. In three months. Entire platoons swallowed in Kumo's sudden surge. Even hardened veterans shifted uncomfortably on the tatami mats when the figure was spoken aloud.

Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, sat with his pipe untouched. His usual calm eyes carried shadows. He had grown used to bad news, wars had never truly ceased in the shinobi world but there was something different about this. The loss wasn't only in numbers. It was in confidence. In morale. And perhaps worst of all, in strategy.

"Dan Katō," Koharu's voice finally broke the silence, sharp as a shuriken. "You had command of the north-eastern detachment. How do you explain the collapse of your defense line within a single day?"

Dan's jaw tightened. His eyes looked hollow from lack of sleep, and his posture betrayed the guilt weighing down on him. "The reports are correct. Kumogakure struck with terrifying precision. We had barely consolidated our position when their reinforcements descended. It was as if they had been camped within striking distance. Our scouts and sensors should have—"

"Should have?" Homura cut in, tone dripping with disdain. "You mean they failed. You had a duty to anticipate enemy movement. A commander doesn't rely on chance or wishful thinking. A thousand shinobi are gone because of negligence."

Dan's fist curled on his knee. "You think I don't know that?!" His voice cracked, too loud for the council chamber. The silence that followed was suffocating. "We set traps, we had watch stations, yet they came. Not just ordinary troops. The Hachibi's jinchūriki led them himself. And with him, the Raikage's heir. No scouting system could have prepared us for the speed with which they mobilized."

The weight of the words sank in. Killer B, the Eight-Tails' jinchūriki, and the young Ay—son of the Raikage—commanding together. Konoha's shinobi whispered about them as if they were natural disasters rather than men.

But the council had no patience for excuses.

"There is no point sending more squads into the meat grinder," Koharu pressed on, ignoring Dan's anguish. "Kumo has established a fortified camp near the chakra ore mines. They've harvested uninterrupted for over a month. Every day their shinobi are getting stronger. Enhanced reserves. Longer endurance in combat. Do you understand what that means? Soon, every battle will be fought on their terms."

At the mention of the chakra ore mines, murmurs spread. The mine wasn't just a source of wealth, it was an amplifier. Refined ore infused with chakra could be forged into weapons or sealed into supplies that stretched a shinobi's stamina far beyond natural limits. For Kumo to monopolize such a resource was disastrous.

"And yet," Homura added grimly, "we cannot afford another catastrophe. Sending strike teams one after another will only thin our ranks. We would be throwing lives away."

Danzo, who had been silent until now, leaned forward slightly. His bandaged face caught the torchlight, casting deep shadows across his features. His single visible eye glinted with something sharper than concern.

"Then it is time we discard half-measures," he said.

All eyes turned to him.

Danzo did not rush his words. He spoke with deliberate calm, letting each syllable cut through the air. "Kumogakure has unleashed their jinchūriki. They have sent their Raikage's son. They are not holding back. Yet here we are, debating whether to send squads of fodder into a slaughter. If Kumo can weaponize their tailed beast… so can we."

Hiruzen's eyes narrowed. "Danzo…"

"You know who I speak of," Danzo continued, undeterred. "Uzumaki Kushina. She carries the Nine-Tails. Kumo's camp may be fortified, but against the Kyūbi's power, no camp could stand. We could obliterate their mine, their commanders, their entire forward base in one strike. What Kumo fears most is that we unleash our jinchūriki—and that is exactly what we must do."

The words hit the chamber like a thrown kunai. Even the seasoned advisors stiffened.

Koharu frowned, but she didn't dismiss it outright. "To send Kushina into battle… That would be a declaration unlike any other."

"It would invite catastrophe," Hiruzen snapped. His pipe finally clattered to the table, forgotten. "Kushina is not a weapon to be hurled at our enemies. The Kyūbi is barely stable inside her. Do you propose we risk her life, and the entire village, on the chance she might suppress it in combat? and there is no other vessel capable of holding the nine-tails after Uzumaki clan demise."

Danzo's tone hardened. "Hiruzen, She is a container. She exists for this very purpose. What use is a jinchūriki who never fights? Kumogakure will not hesitate to use theirs. They already have. We wring our hands while they harvest ore and slaughter our men. Tell me. How many more funerals before you act?"

Dan Katō broke in, voice hoarse. "Don't you dare suggest using Kushina to clean up my failure."

Danzo's eye flicked toward him, cold. "Do not flatter yourself, Katō. This isn't about your blunder. This is about survival."

The council erupted in overlapping voices. Homura warning that the balance with Suna and Iwa would tip if Konoha deployed the Nine-Tails. Koharu muttering that the clans would resist such a reckless move. Dan raising his voice in desperation, insisting there must be alternatives.

But Danzo pressed on, cutting through them all.

"Kumo's Eight-Tails jinchūriki is battle-trained, disciplined, effective. If we sit idle, their superiority grows with every passing day. Do you think Minato can hold the Iwa front forever while we bleed in the east? Do you think the Hyūga, the Uchiha, the Aburame will accept endless conscription without seeing decisive action? No. The longer we hesitate, the weaker we appear. The Nine-Tails is our only answer."

Chapter Text

Hiruzen stood, finally forcing silence. His voice carried the steel that had made him Hokage in the first place. "Enough. This council is not here to gamble with the soul of the village. The Kyūbi is not a weapon of convenience. It is a last resort, to be used only if Konoha itself is at the brink of annihilation. Kushina is still learning to live with her burden. Forcing her into this war could unleash a disaster greater than anything Kumogakure could dream of."

Danzo's expression didn't change, but his silence was heavy, calculated. For a long while, the chamber was still. Then Hiruzen spoke again, quieter but with a weight that allowed no argument.

"We will muster reinforcements. Not squads. Not platoons. A full battalion - eight hundred shinobi at minimum. That is the force we need to challenge Kumo's base, and that is the force we will prepare. Minato will remain at the Iwa front. Onoki has not committed his full strength, and if Minato shifts, the Stone will surge. But we will find commanders capable of leading against Kumo. This war is not yet lost."

Koharu still looked dissatisfied, but she bowed her head slightly. Homura muttered something about logistics. Dan looked down, ashamed but silent.

Danzo's gaze lingered on Hiruzen. "And if eight hundred shinobi fall as the last thousand did?"

Hiruzen had no words to answer. The meeting adjourned, but the chamber's walls seemed to hold the tension long after the council dispersed. Outside, Konoha bustled as always, children trained in the academy, market stalls rang with chatter, shinobi came and went through the gates. Yet behind the calm, the village now stood on the edge of a decision that could shape the war, and perhaps its own soul.

Danzo walked out last, his steps slow but deliberate. The glint in his eye had not dimmed. If Hiruzen would not use Kushina, then others might have to ensure she was… prepared, with or without the Hokage. And so the debate ended for the day but the war was far from waiting.

--

After a month of fighting with council, hiruzen conceded and allowed kushina to enter battlefield under few conditions.

That day, the Hokage's office always smelled faintly of ink and old parchment, but that day, it carried something heavier. Kushina stood with her arms folded, lips pursed, eyes narrowed in defiance at the Third Hokage. Her fiery hair framed her face like a blaze, her words sharp enough to make most men flinch.

"So what does the old man want now?" she said, almost spitting the words.

Behind her, Minato gave the slightest bow of apology, his golden hair dipping as he murmured, "Forgive her, Lord Hokage. She speaks—"

Hiruzen raised a hand before Minato could finish. His eyes were steady, patient. He had seen far worse tempers, and Kushina's harshness reminded him of Mito Uzumaki herself. "I take no offense. Let her speak as she will. This matter affects her life more than anyone's."

Kushina blinked, surprised he didn't scold her. She shifted, but her glare didn't soften. "Tch. Fine. Then just say it straight. What's this all about?"

Hiruzen exhaled slowly. "We've lost a thousand of our shinobi at the Kumo front. More than numbers, we've lost the chakra ore mine four months ago. That mine now fuels Kumogakure's weapons and armor. By now, they are armed to the teeth. We can no longer fight them by conventional means without paying an impossible cost."

Minato's brow furrowed. He had read the reports, but hearing the Hokage say it aloud put weight on the truth.

Hiruzen turned his gaze fully on Kushina. "Kumo unleashed their jinchūriki. The Eight-Tails himself fights on the front, in partial transformations. To stand against them, we must do the same. Kushina, you must learn to control the Nine-Tails. To speak to it. To wrest some measure of power. Without that, we have no answer."

Kushina's lips curled. "Talk to that fox? Hah. He never said a word to me. Just sits there, brooding and snarling. I tried a few times, when I was a kid. Silence. Dattebane."

For a moment, Hiruzen was quiet thinking. [She is the last of the Uzumaki clan in Konoha. We cannot find another vessel, even if we wanted to. She hold both our burden and our hope.] With not so heavy heart he said, "I will not lie: this is a cruel thing to ask. But if Konoha is to survive, the Kyūbi's strength must be brought to bear."

The room seemed colder. Kushina's eyes, usually fierce with stubborn fire, flickered with something else... doubt, maybe even fear. She masked it quickly, scoffing. "So you're just throwing me into the pit, huh? Nice."

"No," Hiruzen said gently. "I'm giving you time. Three months. To learn. To try. You won't walk that path alone." His eyes shifted to Minato. "You already possess rare talent in sealing arts. With Kushina, you'll study her clan's fuinjutsu and adapt the seal. Help her communicate with the beast. Where the Eight-Tails' host can partially transform, we must achieve the same."

Minato bowed deeply this time. "Understood."

Kushina crossed her arms tighter, glaring at Minato now. "So you're dragged into this too, eh? You better not mess it up."

Minato's lips quirked in the faintest of smiles. "I'll do my best not to."

--
A/N: Lovely moments between Red hair and Yellow flash. So, Kushina will be training to control nine-tails.

Chapter Text

Training began the next day.

The old Uzumaki compound was half-ruined, abandoned for years after the clan's scattering. Seals still etched into the walls hummed faintly with dormant chakra. It was there Hiruzen arranged for their practice... far enough from civilians, strong enough in foundation to withstand chakra surges.

Kushina stood in the center, scowling at the empty air. "I don't see why I gotta talk to that furball. If he wanted to, he could've spoken up years ago."

Minato knelt nearby, unfurling a scroll of complex seal diagrams. "Sometimes silence hides more than words. The seal that binds him isn't just a lock. It's a barrier, and it muffles both ways. If we adjust it... carefully... you might hear him. Or he might hear you."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "You sound way too calm about poking the biggest, angriest chakra monster alive."

"I've always believed even the strongest walls can have doors," Minato said lightly, though his fingers moved with precision and sweat dotted his brow.

Kushina tilted her head, curious despite herself. "You really believe that fox will talk? That he'll just say hello like a friendly neighbor?"

"I don't know," Minato admitted. His blue eyes met hers, unwavering. "But I believe in you."

Kushina blinked. Heat crept into her cheeks, which she masked with an exaggerated scoff. "Tch. You're smooth with words, y'know that? Dattebane."

The first attempt was clumsy. Kushina sat cross-legged, Minato's adjusted seal glowing faintly on her stomach. She reached inward, into that vast dark where the Kyūbi slumbered. The cage loomed, massive bars glinting with faint light. Behind them, twin red eyes opened, vast and burning. Her breath caught.

"Oi, fox!" Her voice echoed in the void. "You gonna say something or keep pretending you're a statue?"

The eyes narrowed. A low growl rumbled, reverberating through her very bones. But no words.

Kushina snapped her eyes open back in the training hall, panting. "He's there. Watching. But still silent. Damn stubborn beast."

Minato scribbled notes. "That's more than before. He stirred. That means the seal shift worked."

Kushina flopped back onto the mat, hair splaying around her. "If stirring's all we get, we'll be dead before he ever talks."

Days became weeks.

Sometimes Kushina came out of meditation fuming, stomping around the compound, shouting that the fox was mocking her in silence. Sometimes she emerged pale, shaken by the sheer killing intent that radiated from behind those bars.

Minato was constant. Always calm, always adjusting, refining seals, guiding her breathing, reminding her to focus. His patience never seemed to waver, no matter how harsh her temper.

Once, after she stormed out, she found him still kneeling by the scrolls, candlelight flickering over his face. "Why do you even put up with me?" she muttered.

He looked up, smiling softly. "Because I know how much strength you carry. Even if you don't see it yet."

Her chest tightened. She turned away quickly. "Idiot. Dattebane."

By the second month, progress came.

When Kushina entered the inner world, the fox sometimes rumbled in low words. Not sentences, but fragments. Threats. Curses. Yet it was speech.

"You will never control me…"

"You are just a jinchuriki. Nothing more."

Her fists clenched, but Minato's voice echoed in her mind: Don't fight fire with fire. Listen first. So she listened. And slowly, the rumbles shifted. Mockery, but less venom. Curiosity edged in.

"Why do you persist, girl?"

One evening, she stumbled back to the real world, face pale. "He finally… said something. Asked why I keep trying."

Minato's smile was proud, but his voice was quiet. "And what did you say?"

She bit her lip. "That I won't let Kumo win. That if I have to drag that fox with me, I will. Dattebane."

In the third month, breakthroughs quickened.

Minato's refinements allowed her to project chakra tendrils into the cage, brushing against the Kyūbi's. At first, the contact nearly overwhelmed her... its malice, its burning hatred for humans. She collapsed, coughing blood. Minato caught her, hands steady despite his worry.

"Never again without me here," he said firmly, surprising her with rare sharpness.

She swallowed, nodding. But little by little, the contact steadied. Where before she recoiled in fear, now she endured. Where the Kyūbi sneered, she stared back.

"Stubborn girl…" the fox muttered one day, voice low like thunder.

"Better stubborn than weak," she shot back.

For the first time, there was a pause. A flicker in its eyes.

As the deadline approached, Kushina and Minato stood side by side in the compound, exhausted but stronger.

Hiruzen arrived quietly, watching them from the doorway. He saw the way Minato placed a reassuring hand on Kushina's shoulder, the way her scowl softened for just a heartbeat. He saw the determination that had been forged between them.

"Three months," Hiruzen said finally, stepping forward. "Are you ready?"

Kushina smirked, fierce as ever. "That fox still hates my guts. But he knows I won't quit. That's enough. Dattebane."

Minato bowed. "We're ready, Lord Hokage."

Hiruzen's gaze lingered on them both. For a moment, his old heart felt lighter. Perhaps, just perhaps, they stood a chance.

--
A/N: They are getting ready for war.

Chapter Text

The Raikage's chambers were always alive with noise. The scratching of brushes against paper, the shuffle of messengers' sandals, the distant clash of weapons from the training grounds below. But that morning, there was another sound, an odd little babble, half-words punctuated by the occasional pop of a pacifier.

Kaien sat cross-legged on a mat, a scroll unrolled before him. His tiny fingers traced the diagrams of chakra coils and tenketsu points with almost reverent focus, though every so often he paused to gnaw at the pacifier dangling from his lips. Aya, seated just behind him, leaned on one hand and chuckled softly, her eyes warm.

"You're supposed to be chewing on food, not chakra theory, little one," she teased, flicking his cheek lightly.

Kaien shot her a sideways glance, pulled the pacifier from his mouth, and answered in perfect childish tone, "I want to be strong like mama"

"Ara~Ara~"Aya said.

Then, as if embarrassed by his own words, he stuck the pacifier back in and went back to tracing.

--

Across the chamber, the 3rd Raikage leaned forward on his desk, massive arms folded, his presence filling the room like a thundercloud. Beside him stood Renga, one of his most trusted assistant, delivering the latest battle reports.

"Konoha remains still," Renga said, voice crisp. "No counter-offensives. The chakra ore mine has more than offset any losses we suffered. In four months, our blacksmiths have forged armor stronger than any before. Kunai tipped with chakra-conductive alloy. Seals etched directly into blades for elemental resonance. We have given huge discounts for those who have contributed the most in the war. And the reserves… we can fuel prolonged campaigns without pause. "

"There are few skirmishes from Iwa at the unoccupied land [which would later be called hidden sound village] which the 2nd base dealt with swiftly."

Ay, hot-blooded son, grinned lightning sparking faintly around his shoulders. "Tch. With that mine, we're untouchable. Konoha bleeds while we sharpen our edge. We should not focus on Konoha. We should occupy the unoccupied land and set up a base before Iwa."

Bee leaned against the wall, humming a rhythm under his breath. His rhymes trailed off into seriousness as he spoke. "We should ride the wave, take a base, make them cave. Before Iwa gets ideas of their own."

The 3rd Raikage's gaze flicked to them both. His eyes were calculating, weighing not just the battlefield but the political map of nations. "Patience. We strike, yes—but too recklessly, and we give Iwa the opening they crave. Onoki is not to be underestimated."

For a moment, silence. Then, from the mat on the floor, came a small, clear voice.

Kaien pulled the pacifier free, eyes still on the scroll. "No. Uncle Ay and Uncle B must focus only on Konoha."

Every head turned.

The child looked up, unafraid, his tone a strange mixture of innocence and clarity. "We hurt Konoha badly, now to regain the base the Hokage might come himself. Old man Sarutobi… he's strong from the data book."

Bee raised an eyebrow. "Yo, did that baby just diss me?"

Aya laughed, ruffling Kaien's hair. "He talks only when he wants to. Guess you're worth it."

Kaien ignored her teasing. He lifted the scroll slightly, as though presenting evidence. "They already lost many shinobi. They're scared. But if we push too hard, they'll stop being scared and start being desperate. Desperate people fight crazy. That's when Hokage might move."

Renga coughed, half amused, half stunned. "He speaks like a strategist, Lord Raikage."

The 3rd Raikage's stern face cracked into the faintest smile. He leaned back, massive hands drumming on the desk. "Perhaps Kumo's future is already writing itself."

Later, when the council dispersed, Aya remained with Kaien in the training yard. The boy waddled—no, sprinted—across the grass, already steady on his legs. She clapped her hands. "Alright, little genius, let's see if you can feel it this time. Small chakra thread, just like I showed you."

Kaien frowned, cheeks puffing in determination. His tiny fingers pressed together in a crude imitation of a hand sign. A faint glow shimmered between his palms, weak but steady.

Aya whistled. "At one year old, and already molding chakra. You'll make your uncle Ay look slow at this rate."

Kaien grinned, dropping the pacifier so his words came clearer. "It feels… warm. Like fire. But it's heavy to circulate chakra."

"That's your chakra nature trying to speak," Aya said, kneeling beside him. "Don't force it yet. Just listen. Let it flow."

Kaien's brows furrowed as the glow flickered, "It's a bit better but still difficult."

Aya's heart clenched. She scooped him up, ignoring his protests, and nuzzled his cheek. "Don't grow up too fast, Kaien. Even geniuses need their mothers."

He wriggled, squirming to get back to the scrolls.

--

Meanwhile, Renga's reports echoed in the Raikage's mind. The chakra ore was proving a game-changer. Armor laced with chakra conduits allowed even average shinobi to withstand jutsu that once shredded them. Weapons cut cleaner, sharper, infused with elemental chakra at a fraction of the cost. Seals etched into arrowheads let volleys explode mid-air, raining destruction on entrenched foes.

And there was more: medical-nin discovered powdered ore infused into salves accelerated healing by syncing with the body's chakra. Supply lines stretched further, sustained longer. Losses were minimal. Every skirmish with Iwa's probing squads ended quickly, Kumogakure shinobi reinforced and rejuvenated.

Kumo was not just holding its ground. It was growing stronger with every passing week.

The 3rd Raikage saw it clearly: in another year, with enough ore, Kumogakure could rival even Konoha's famed shinobi clans. But the boy's words lingered. Push too far, and Hiruzen himself may come.

Chapter Text

He grunted, standing, his shadow falling long across the chamber. "Kaien may yet be right. We hold steady. We bleed Konoha slowly. When their Hokage comes, we'll be ready."

That night, Kaien dozed against Aya's chest, pacifier slipping loose, scrolls scattered around him. In sleep, he murmured nonsense words mixed with fragments of chakra theory, as if even his dreams were filled with seals and energy. Aya brushed a strand of hair from his face and whispered, "Rest, my little storm. You need it with putting too much brain into the war."

--

Morning in Kumogakure began with thunder. Not from the clouds... though they always seemed to hang heavy above the mountains... but from the voice of Renga echoing through the Raikage's council chamber.

"Confirmed," he said, holding the parchment with stiff fingers. "Ōnoki himself issued the command. All Iwa shinobi are ordered to flee on sight from Konoha's Yellow Flash. That's not a battlefield rumor. That's doctrine."

The 3rd Raikage's eyes narrowed like storm cracks in stone. His massive frame leaned forward, muscles tightening against the desk. "Flee? Not fight? He's given one man the authority of a battalion."

Aya scoffed, sparks of lightning chakra snapping off her shoulders. "A flashy nickname. Maybe the man is fast. But there's no one alive faster than me when my armor is lit. Don't tell me Ōhnoki would throw away his pride to name Konoha's lapdog after speed."

Renga hesitated, then added, "From spies in Waterfall, we've learned Iwa has gained ground against Konoha. Not enough to crush them, but enough to matter. Yet this order was issued after that gain. Which means they aren't boasting. They're scared."

For a moment, silence settled in the chamber. Only the scratching sound of a pacifier against Kaien's teeth broke it. The boy sat on the floor, a scroll clutched in his tiny hands, pretending not to listen. But his eyes darted between each speaker.

Aya cracked her knuckles. "So, either the so-called Yellow Flash is dead and the order's a trick to bait Kumo. Or he's alive, but recalled to defend their our front. The timing's too convenient... Konoha's heavy losses, and suddenly their 'hero' vanishes? Feels like misinformation."

That was when Kaien's pacifier slipped from his lips. His small voice, clear as glass, cut through the room.

"…No. Mama, what if it's worse?"

The boy looked up. His hair was messy, his cheeks still round with youth, but his eyes... those were sharp, uncomfortably sharp for someone barely past his first year.

"What if the Yellow Flash isn't just fast? What if he doesn't run, he moves? Teleports. In an instant. That's why Ōhnoki can't risk his men. You can't fight someone you can't catch."

The words hung heavy. Bee blinked, halfway through a rhyme that died in his throat. Aya, leaning against the wall, froze as if the child's voice had cut the air.

Kaien pressed on, his tone unchildlike, eerie in its calm. "If the yellow flash been pulled from Iwa, then maybe it isn't because he lost. Maybe it's because Konoha is sending him here. To Hot Water. To take back what we bled them for. Maybe…" He hesitated, small lips pressing thin. "…maybe their own beast host is coming too. And if their Hokage himself comes, then everything we built with the ore, all of it, could vanish."

The 3rd Raikage's face shifted... just a flicker, but enough. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched. It was not fear, not quite. It was recognition. Recognition that a one-year-old had just voiced what every veteran in the room dared not speak.

Aya whispered, almost to herself, "He's only guessing. They could be completely wrong and we could be worrying for nothing. But every word makes sense."

The Raikage rose in one motion, towering over them all. His voice was iron. "Renga. Fetch the Kohaku no Jōhei."

That name alone brought a hush. The amber purification jar, one of the Sage's relics, a weapon capable of sealing even tailed beasts. It had been kept locked in the village vaults for generations, considered too dangerous to wield recklessly.

"Lord Raikage," Renga began, uncertain, "if we use it openly, the other villages will..."

"They will know we do not play with toys. Prepare your jutsu. We leave for Hot Water by foot."

Kaien, still on the floor, tilted his head. "No. You should seal their beast host and have Uncle Renga transport it back here. Safer. And faster. For that Uncle Renga should also go to the battlefield."

The Raikage turned. His voice rumbled low. "How do you know what that jar does?"

Kaien shifted guiltily, reaching behind a scroll pile and pulling out a worn book. One of the forbidden texts his grandfather thought locked away. He hugged it to his chest like a guilty toy.

The Raikage exhaled slowly, then looked to Aya. "Hold the village while I'm gone."

Aya nodded, though her hand instinctively pulled Kaien close. For all his brilliance, he was still her baby.

And so the Raikage and Renga departed, the Kohaku no Jōhei strapped to their backs, thunder rolling with their steps toward the Hot Water battlefield.

--

Meanwhile at Hot Water

Kumo's base at Hot Water was supposed to be secure. Reinforced, supplied, its shinobi battle-hardened after months of attrition. But security meant nothing when death arrived in a flash of light.

It began at dawn. Kunai rained from nowhere, each etched with a strange seal. The next heartbeat, yellow streaks tore through the camp, and men were falling with their throats opened before they even drew weapons.

"Enemy attack!" voices screamed. "Konoha!"

Minato Namikaze appeared among them like lightning incarnate, his eyes calm, deadly. And beside him... yellow chains whipping, chakra flaring like fire... stood Kushina Uzumaki, tails of crimson chakra snapping in the air. Her voice was a harsh bark. "Push forward! Seal the supply tents!"

Four hundred Konoha shinobi surged behind them.

Ay, younger but still ferocious, roared as his lightning armor burst alive. "Konoha brat!" He charged, the ground splitting under his steps. Minato flickered away in a blink, reappearing behind him, only for Ay to twist with reflexive speed. Their clashes were sparks and thunder, each testing the other.

Chapter Text

On the other side, Kushina's chains lashed toward Killer Bee. The jinchūriki's rhymes faltered as he struggled, forced to dodge rather than counter. "Yo, lady, you're pushin' me shady! These chains… they sting like crazy!"

But Kushina pressed harder, her sealing arts gnawing at his cloak, threatening to suppress the beast inside him.

The battlefield turned into chaos. Konoha's lower ranks fell into traps Kumo had long prepared... exploding tags buried in the earth, chakra-forged arrow volleys shredding formations. But Kumo bled too. Minato's teleportation cut down squads in moments, and Kushina's chains broke defenses wide open.

Smoke and screams mingled. Victory teetered on a knife's edge.

This continued for hours

Minato's sharp eyes caught it first. On Kushina's front, Bee's frustration boiled over. His body swelled with chakra, tails sprouting as he gathered a Bijūdama. The orb of condensed destruction grew, humming with catastrophic energy.

Kushina snarled, chakra chains tightening around him... but her grip faltered as the blast grew too unstable.

Minato's hand touched her shoulder in a blink. "We're leaving. Now." His voice carried the tone of absolute command. He flung a marked kunai high, and with a flash, he and Kushina vanished, reappearing among their troops.

"All units... prepare to withdraw!"

The order rippled across the field. Konoha's shinobi disengaged with discipline born of desperation, retreating in tight formations, Minato flickering among them to pull stragglers clear.

Ay landed beside Bee, his armor flickering from exhaustion. "Kumo shinobi... fall back to the base! Regroup!"

The battlefield stilled, littered with corpses from both sides, the stench of smoke and blood hanging thick. Neither side had won. Both had survived.

--

The chamber was dim, lit only by the wavering glow of oil lamps. Shadows stretched long across the carved wooden table where the highest minds of Konoha sat in uneasy silence. Maps of the Land of Hot Water and the surrounding territories lay scattered across the polished surface, pinned in place by kunai. Red and black markings scrawled over them in urgency told the grim story: battle lines shifting, supply lines cut, and skirmishes that had bled the village dry.

Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, sat at the head of the table. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his eyes betrayed the weight pressing on him. He had seen too many wars, buried too many comrades, and carried too many sins. Still, he could not falter now.

To his right sat Jiraiya, restless as always, his hand drumming on the table. Across from him, Tsunade leaned back with her arms folded, eyes sharp, waiting for the conversation to turn to her expertise. Danzo Shimura, ever cloaked in his own shadows, sat a little apart, his face set in a mask of calm detachment that only those who knew him well could interpret as calculation. Orochimaru, for once, was absent... deployed against Iwagakure forces, his silence in this chamber only deepening the unease.

A courier knelt at the far side of the room, his body trembling with exhaustion after having run himself half-dead across the battlefield to deliver his message. He had already spoken the words, but their echo still hung heavy in the air.

"The Third Raikage himself," Hiruzen repeated slowly, as if the title were bitter poison. "He moves toward Hot Water."

Jiraiya leaned forward, his expression sharp. "That confirms it then. They're escalating. We've already had Raikage's son and their jinchuriki leading devastating charges and tearing through our lines. And now, If the Raikage himself is making an appearance, they're planning to crush our forward divisions outright."

Danzo's lips curved almost imperceptibly, a trace of cold satisfaction hidden beneath a mask of concern. "It means Kumo is committed. And it means Konoha cannot afford to show weakness. A leader's presence on the battlefield is a declaration. If the Raikage marches, should the Hokage not answer?"

The words hung like smoke in the chamber.

Hiruzen did not rise to the bait immediately. He inhaled slowly through his pipe, then exhaled the smoke in a thin stream. His silence was measured, deliberate. Danzo, of course, had phrased his provocation carefully. If Hiruzen did not rise to meet the Raikage, it would appear cowardice. If he did, it risked his life... and gave Danzo the opening, he so hungrily sought, to claim the hokage position should he fail .

Jiraiya broke the silence. His tone was unusually restrained, but his eyes carried urgency. "Sensei, think this through. You are our last defence. Even if Minato is there, even if Kushina can intervene with the Nine-Tails' chakra, we can't be sure they can stand against him and his son and their jinchuriki all at once. I will make the appearance."

His voice cracked slightly at Kushina's name. He tried to mask it, but everyone at the table heard it.

Hiruzen gave him a sidelong glance. "You're worried for your student."

"I'd be a fool not to be." Jiraiya's voice was rougher now. "Minato has grown. But he's not invincible. And Kushina... she's strong, yes, but she's also the very prize Kumo has longed for since the last war."

--

A/N: Both sides had heavy losses, with konoha surprise attack and with kumo getting used to the base and planting trap. with the help of the 2nd front kumo held back. and Bee didn't actual use Bijuudama, it was gimmick.

konoha losses: 100 shinobi, Kumo losses: 120 Shinobi

Chapter Text

Hiruzen gave him a sidelong glance. "You're worried for your student."

"I'd be a fool not to be." Jiraiya's voice was rougher now. "Minato has grown. But he's not invincible. And Kushina... she's strong, yes, but she's also the very prize Kumo has longed for since the last war."

The sentence trailed off. No one needed him to finish. The silence that followed was suffocating.

Though tsunade was feeling sad for her distant cousin she had to think rationally unlike her teammate. Tsunade finally spoke, her voice cutting through the gloom like a scalpel. "Let's strip the emotions from this for a moment. We're not debating feelings. We're debating numbers, bodies, stamina. Kumo has already inflicted severe losses on our forces in Hot Water. The Raikage's son has been rampaging through the frontlines, and the jinchuriki has shattered at least two of our divisions. Every unit we've sent has returned broken. Minato's squad is the only reason we've held ground at all. But if the Raikage himself enters the field? The balance tilts entirely. Jiraya making an appearance will not change anything."

She leaned forward, hands on the table, her eyes fixed on Hiruzen. "Even with Minato and Kushina, they cannot hold that line alone. That's not a criticism... it's reality."

Danzo seized the pause. His voice was calm, but each word was a knife aimed at Hiruzen. "Then it seems inevitable, doesn't it? If the enemy's Kage makes an appearance, so too must ours. Unless, of course, Konoha wishes to send the message that its Hokage fears battle."

Jiraiya's eyes snapped to him. "Don't twist this, Danzo. We're not debating fear. We're debating strategy. If the Hokage falls, Konoha is finished. That's exactly what Kumo wants... to drag our leader into the mud. Sensei doesn't need to prove himself to anyone."

Danzo's expression didn't change, but his words struck sharper now. "On the contrary. A Hokage must prove himself every day, to both enemies and allies alike. If Sarutobi hides while others bleed, whispers will spread. Whispers become doubt. Doubt rots the foundation of leadership. Would you prefer that, Jiraiya?"

The two men locked eyes, tension crackling. Hiruzen raised a hand, stopping the argument before it spiraled. "I will go."

The words were quiet, but final. Everyone froze, eyes snapping toward him.

"Sensei...!" Jiraiya started, half-rising from his seat.

Hiruzen cut him off with a sharp look. "Enough. You've said it yourself, Tsunade. Numbers, bodies, stamina. We cannot withstand the Raikage's full weight unless I stand at that front. If I go, we hold. If I stay behind, we bleed until there is nothing left."

Tsunade frowned, fists clenching. She hated this, but she could not deny the truth. "Then at least let us reinforce with medical divisions. If you're putting yourself on the line, the wounded must be cycled back fast, or we'll collapse regardless."

Hiruzen nodded. "Approved. Organize it at once."

He turned then to Jiraiya, his gaze softer but no less firm. "You and Tsunade will remain in reserve. If Iwagakure seizes the opportunity of my absence to make a move, you will counter them immediately. Orochimaru is already engaged in the Iwa front. We cannot afford to leave that flank exposed."

Jiraiya shook his head in frustration, but forced himself to sit back down. "Sensei, if something happens..."

"If something happens," Hiruzen said, his voice carrying the authority of decades, "then the next generation of Konoha will take my place."

Danzo's single visible eye gleamed in the half-light. Whether it was approval, calculation, or barely restrained ambition, none could say. He had gotten what he wanted, one way or another.

The courier shifted nervously, sensing the weight of the decisions made above his station. Outside, the faint sound of rain began to patter against the tiled roof, a soft drumbeat against the storm of war gathering on all sides.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The council chamber was filled only with the quiet crackle of the oil lamps. Then Hiruzen rose, pipe set aside, and placed both hands on the map spread before him.

"Konoha has bled enough," he said quietly. "If the Raikage wishes to test the will of the Leaf, then let him face it head-on."

The others watched him, each carrying their own thoughts. Tsunade, calculating the number of lives she might save. Jiraiya, worrying for his student and the girl who held the Nine-Tails. Danzo, already scheming how this gamble might reshape the village's future. And in the center of it all, the Third Hokage prepared to carry Konoha's burden once again, knowing full well that one misstep could cost him everything.

--

The arrival of the Third Raikage was like a thunderclap rolling through the Kumo camp. News spread before his armored silhouette even appeared at the edge of the battlefield. Word leapt from shinobi to shinobi: their Kage was here. The embodiment of unbreakable strength, the man who had stood against entire armies. Soldiers who had been limping from wounds straightened their backs. Veterans whispered in awe. The exhausted and demoralized felt their resolve harden.

The massive black and gold tent at the center of camp swelled with activity. Guards reinforced its perimeter, scouts ran in and out with reports, and the faint metallic clink of weapons being sharpened filled the night air. Inside, a large table dominated the space, maps of the Land of Hot Water spread across its surface, pins and markers scattered like pieces on a shogi board.

Raikage Ay sat at the head of the table, his massive frame dwarfing the chair, his battle cloak hanging heavy on his shoulders. Renga, his trusted adviser, stood to his right with Kohaku no Jōhei resting in a reinforced scroll case on his back. The relic glowed faintly through its seals, ominous and absolute, a reminder of the power it carried.

Across from them sat his son, the younger Ay hungry for battle plain in his sharp gaze. Beside him was Killer B, humming softly to himself in a rhythm only he understood, but his expression sobered when his brother nudged him to silence.

The tent quieted as the Raikage spoke. His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

"Report."

--
A/N: Raikage has arrived. Hiruzen will take time coz he started late.

Chapter Text

Young Ay bowed his head briefly before beginning. "Father, we've pressed them hard since our advance into Hot Water. Konoha has suffered severe losses. Our numbers remain strong, but the resistance has not collapsed entirely."

He pointed to a section of the map, tapping near a red-marked ridge. "Minato Namikaze... 'the Yellow Flash' as Iwa has named him... has held their line. He cuts through our forces unpredictably. He strikes, disappears, and reappears where we least expect. Our squads cannot pin him down."

The Third Raikage's brow furrowed. "And the jinchuriki?"

This time Bee spoke, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "She's here too. Kushina Uzumaki. Her chakra... massive, wild. She's been fightin' with partial chakra cloak transformations, tails of the Nine-Tails flickerin' around her. Kumo shinobi tryin' to bind her… none succeeded. She ain't untrained. Her chain sealing arts are dangerous, too."

Bee's lips pressed tight, breaking from his usual carefree rhythm. "If they capture me, I'm a target. But if they capture her? That's the Nine-Tails. Game over."

Silence followed. Everyone in the tent understood the weight of those words.

The young Ay added, "Father, Minato seems to teleport to any place his kunai lands. It's not speed... it's instantaneous. We've seen it too many times now. A shinobi rushes him, thinking they have the upper hand, and then… nothing. He's behind them. Or above. Or already cutting their throat. He's unpredictable."

Raikage's heavy hands curled into fists against the table. His voice was low, measured. "So Kaien was right. That boy said this Yellow Flash could be a threat even greater than Iwa admitted. An enemy fast enough... or clever enough... to earn a 'flee-on-sight' order from Ōnoki cannot be underestimated."

At the mention of Kaien, Bee and young Ay exchanged glances. They remembered the child's warning, his little pacifier slipping from his lips as he spoke of teleportation and danger with uncanny clarity. At the time it had unsettled them. Now, standing face to face with reports of the Yellow Flash, they realized Kaien's instincts had been sharper than they dared admit.

The Raikage leaned forward, his aura of power pressing against everyone in the tent. "Then we adjust. Listen carefully."

He spoke the next words in a voice meant only for his bloodline and his jinchuriki.

"We will capture Kushina Uzumaki. That is our priority. With the Nine-Tails in our possession, the war tilts in our favor permanently. The boy Minato will be neutralized first. Ay... your task will be to engage him directly. Split him from the jinchuriki. Do not give him the chance to protect her."

Young Ay's fists clenched eagerly, lightning crackling faintly across his arms. "Yes, Father."

Raikage continued. "You will also gather every earth-style user we have. Dodai will lead them. They will swallow the kunai Minato throws, bury them in stone, seal them if possible. Every marked kunai must be gathered and concentrated in one place. Remove his freedom to appear anywhere on the battlefield, and you remove his greatest advantage."

Ay nodded firmly, already turning over the logistics in his mind.

Raikage then turned his gaze to Bee. "You will seal the jinchuriki. Use her name. Force her to respond. and with Kohaku no johei we can seal her in the amber pot. Abandon the mission if it gets too dangerous, we can't risk you. Since, their jinchuriki is well versed in sealing arts. You are in the same risk... Bee. Renga will assist you..."

Bee's usual swagger dimmed under the weight of the order, but he nodded. "Got it. I'll lock her down. Won't let that fox loose."

The Raikage's eyes swept between them both, the steel in his gaze undeniable. "Understand this: Minato is dangerous, but he is not immortal. Kushina is dangerous, but she is not invincible. Their Hokage is not here... our scouts confirm it. That means they are vulnerable. We will not waste this chance. Konoha might have already receive the word that i am here, we can't delay this any longer."

For a moment, the tent was silent but for the flapping of canvas in the wind. The Raikage's presence filled every corner, the sheer certainty of his command leaving no room for doubt.

Then he spoke again, his tone practical, shifting back to strategy. "Renga. Send word to the second front. Reinforce here with another thousand shinobi by tomorrow. Rotate the injured back to the secondary base. This battle will not be a skirmish... it will be decisive. We cannot enter it with weakened men."

Renga bowed deeply. "At once, Raikage-sama."

The Raikage turned back to his son and Bee. "You will rest now. At dawn, we launch our strike. Every hour of preparation, every ounce of strength conserved, will determine tomorrow's outcome."

Young Ay and Bee exchanged a glance again... silent acknowledgment between brothers. The plan was dangerous, perhaps even reckless. But if it succeeded, Kumo would be seen as a power no other village could challenge.

Raikage leaned back finally, the tension in the tent easing slightly, though his expression remained grim. His gaze drifted briefly to the sealed case behind Renga, to the faint glow of the Kohaku no Jōhei.

--
A/N: Can Kumo capture Kushina? or Bee will be captured by kushina?

Chapter Text

The sun had barely risen when the scouts returned to Minato's tent. Their breath was ragged, their eyes wide. The Byakugan users who had accompanied them confirmed the worst: a massive force of Kumo shinobi was advancing, already within two kilometers.

Minato's hand tightened around the edge of the map he had been studying. The tiredness in the camp was visible... the newly arrived three hundred Konoha shinobi had marched all night. Their armor was dust-caked, their shoulders slumped. They had joined the remnants of the original four hundred, now whittled down to three hundred and fifty. In total, six hundred and fifty men and women. Veterans, yes, but fatigued.

And now they faced eight hundred fresh Kumo shinobi. How were they able to accumulate so many shinobi at once, there were little about 500 shinobi on kumo's side. [A/N: They came from 2nd base]

The air in the command tent felt heavy, silence stretching too long until Kushina broke it, her voice sharp as steel."They're not even giving us a day to breathe."

Her red hair shimmered faintly with the Nine-Tails' chakra already stirring under her skin. She had been restless since the last battle, carrying disappointment like a weight on her chest. She wanted redemption.

Minato, ever calm, nodded once. "Which means they're confident. They'll try to end this here, before we recover." His gaze swept the room, landing on the squad leaders. "That also means they'll be predictable. Their target will be us... me and Kushina. Prepare accordingly."

Orders were barked, traps were activated, chakra flares signaled positions. Within minutes, the tired shinobi of Konoha had shifted into formation. Pitfalls lined with explosive tags, wire-threaded forests, and pre-marked seals hidden in the earth... all laid overnight with the quiet, desperate precision of men and women who knew another battle was inevitable.

And then the ground shook.

From the east, the young Ay led the charge, lightning chakra already dancing across his arms like a storm barely contained. Beside him strode Dodai, the veteran lava-style user, his gaze steady, calculating. Behind them came a few over 50 Kumo earth-style shinobi, their jutsu already shaping the terrain as they advanced.

From the west, Killer Bee and Renga's flanking force pressed forward, their voices rallying hundreds more shinobi. Bee's rap-like hum carried strangely in the morning air, but his eyes were cold, focused.

The trap was sprung. Explosions rippled through the ridges, swallowing a dozen Kumo shinobi. Wire snapped taut, slicing across legs and arms. But the sheer numbers of Kumogakure pressed forward regardless, their formation barely slowing.

And at the center of the battlefield, Minato and Kushina stepped forward.

--

The clash was instant. Ay closed the distance with blinding speed, his lightning armor sparking, his fist a blur. Minato barely twisted away, the air itself cracking where Ay's strike landed. The young Ay snarled.

"Yo, Konoha brat... we meet again!"

Minato's eyes narrowed, kunai already flickering into the air. They spun like silver rain, embedding into trees, into rocks, into soil. Markers... doors of escape and entry.

Dodai moved immediately. His hands clapped together in a smooth sequence. Lava release hissed into existence, burning and bubbling, swallowing the kunai that struck the earth. Around him, earth-style shinobi slammed their palms down, the ground opening to consume the blades.

Minato's gaze flicked once, reading the battlefield in an instant. They weren't trying to overwhelm him with numbers. They were dismantling his jutsu itself.

Dodai, calm amidst the chaos, barked an order. "Gather them. Every kunai buried, bring them here!"

Chakra flared as earth shifted, carrying the sealed kunai toward a single point. Minato saw it immediately... if they were to gather at same point he would lose the surprise.

Ay lunged again, his fist crackling like thunder. Minato twisted away, reappearing in a flash of yellow light a dozen meters behind. But the distance was narrowing. Every kunai reduced meant fewer exits, fewer feints, fewer traps he could spring.

He tried probing Dodai, hurling a kunai high, vanishing toward it... but Ay was there, a wall of lightning intercepting him mid-strike. The impact rattled Minato's arm as he barely blocked with a kunai blade, his seal sparking against Ay's raw power.

Ay grinned, eyes wild with adrenaline. "Not so untouchable now, huh? Without your tricks, you're just another brat with a kunai!"

Minato's mind raced. He could place seals directly, using his hands, but it was slow... seconds of exposure he could not afford against Ay's relentless speed. Every move had to be calculated, every teleport precious.

He flickered again, this time behind Dodai, aiming for a quick strike. But Dodai's years of battlefield instinct were sharp and he was preparing himself for the attack; molten lava burst upward, forcing Minato to retreat before the heat seared his skin. Ay was on him immediately, forcing him back with a storm of blows.

For the first time in battle, Minato felt his advantage slipping. His signature style... his edge over every shinobi he had faced... was being dismantled piece by piece.

And Ay knew it and pressed harder, his laughter echoing. "What's wrong, Yellow Flash? Not so fast without your toys?"

Minato's eyes narrowed, sweat forming at his temple. He had one final option: placing seals mid-battle, etched from his hands onto surfaces, but each mark required precision, chakra, and time. Seconds too long against Ay. He would need to bait him, to risk everything.

--
A/N: I tried not to nerf minato too much... with dodai and other earth style users pinning on collecting the FTG kunai at one point... This doesn't mean young Ay has gained any upper hand against minato. pretty much stalemate...

Do let me know your thoughts on the battle...

Chapter Text

On the western flank, the battlefield thundered with a different rhythm. Kushina, wrapped in the crimson cloak of the Nine-Tails' chakra, her two tails lashing like whips, clashed with Killer Bee's steady flow.

Her chains erupted from the ground in bursts of golden light, forcing Bee to twist away, blades flashing as he slashed through one before another whipped toward him. His mind hummed with rhythm, but his thoughts were sharp.

She's raw. Powerful. But her control's sloppy. Those chains… they drain her. She can't hold that cloak steady while using them.

Kushina snarled, her voice carrying across the field. "Why does the Eight-Tails' host fight so… cleanly? As if it's a dance! You mock me?!"

Bee grunted as a chain grazed his arm, sizzling against his cloak of chakra. "Nah, girl, ain't mockin'. Just livin', just flowin'. But you... " he ducked as another chain slammed down, gouging the earth... "you're fightin' the fox more than me."

Kushina's fury deepened, her cloak flaring, her hair lifting as if caught in a storm. She lunged, chains whipping like serpents. Bee blocked, dodged, countered with a chakra-empowered strike that rattled her ribs through the cloak.

The battlefield shifted subtly, each exchange carrying them further from the center, further from Minato's flank. Step by step, clash by clash, Bee maneuvered her away, careful not to reveal his intent too clearly.

Inside, Bee's thoughts were grim. The Yellow Flash… he's too sharp, too calm. Tricking him head-on is suicide. But her? She's reckless. Burnin' too hot. If I drag her far enough, she's mine.

Kushina's breath came heavier, the chains flickering weaker between bursts. She felt it... her body straining, her chakra bleeding too fast. But pride refused to let her relent. She would not fail again, not to another jinchuriki.

Her eyes burned red as she launched herself at Bee once more, the chains spiraling outward in a desperate attempt to bind him fully.

Bee's eyes narrowed. Now's my moment.

--

Around them, shinobi clashed in violent waves. Konoha's traps slowed Kumo but could not halt them entirely. Explosions lit the ridges, screams mixed with war cries, steel met steel.

But the heart of the battle was clear: Ay hammering Minato with unrelenting speed while Dodai stripped him of his advantage at any opportunity he found, and Bee pulling Kushina into isolation where her chakra would burn itself out. Konoha's leaders were being separated. Their greatest weapons were being neutralized.

--

Hiruzen pushed his unit hard, every stride fueled by the gnawing weight in his chest. Twenty kilometers was nothing for a shinobi of his caliber, but in war, distance could stretch into disaster if even a single hour was lost. Reports of Kumo's movements had reached him, and he knew the clash was inevitable.

Every heartbeat that passed while he was still on the road meant his comrades at the Konoha base were holding the line without him. His mind raced with possibilities... an ambush, a breakthrough, the camp already aflame... but he shoved them aside. Hesitation was death. The only thing that mattered was closing the distance and standing where he was needed most.

--

The forest shook with every strike. Kushina's chains tore up the ground, wrapping trees, gouging trenches. Bee slipped between them, his swords flashing in rhythm, his movements deceptively relaxed. To an outsider, it might have looked like a duel between equals, but Bee knew better.

He could see it in her eyes, the red glow of the Nine-Tails burning hotter. Every insult, every failed attempt to bind him, every graze of his counterattacks... it was piling up, feeding the fox's rage inside her. She wasn't just fighting him. She was fighting herself.

Kushina snarled, her breath ragged. "Stand still, you damn clown! Face me properly!"

Bee's lips curved into a smirk, though his eyes flickered serious. She's close. Too close. Another few exchanges and she'll stop thinking, stop listening. That's when it has to happen.

He flicked his wrist, and a scroll slipped into his palm. Renga's earlier words echoed in his head: Keep it hidden until the exact moment. Don't risk it too early.

Bee unrolled the parchment in a swift, practiced motion. Black seals shimmered across the surface, pulsing with ominous chakra. The forest's air grew heavy.

Kushina froze, her chains pausing mid-lash, her crimson eyes narrowing. "What is that?"

Bee's voice dropped, his usual rap-like cadence replaced with deliberate cruelty. "You know what this is, girl. A mirror for monsters. A coffin for failures. And that's all you are. A failure of a jinchūriki. You can't control your fox, you can't chain your rage. You're the reason Konoha will lose."

He tilted his head, mocking. "Tomato-haired brat. Kushina Uzumaki"

The words struck harder than his blades ever could. Rage flooded her veins. Memories of years of whispers, taunts, being called tomato in her academy days, the shame of losing control in her first battles, the disappointment after her last clash with Bee... it all burned together.

"I am not a failure! I am not weak! I am Kushina Uzuma—"

She didn't finish. The scroll flared open, the symbols twisting, and the Kohaku no Jōhei materialized in a burst of smoke and black chains. Its mouth gaped wide, its sealing chakra pulling at her like a whirlpool.

Kushina's body bent unnaturally, dragged mid-sentence toward the artifact. Her cloak flared in panic, chains lashing in all directions, but the pull was absolute.

Her eyes widened in shock, the realization too late. "No—!"

The last syllable of her name sealed the command. Her body was yanked inside, her chains vanishing with a snap of golden light.

Bee slammed the lid shut.

Chapter Text

The last syllable of her name sealed the command. Her body was yanked inside, her chains vanishing with a snap of golden light.

Bee slammed the lid shut.

The forest fell eerily quiet for a moment, the oppressive chakra dissipating into nothing.

Bee staggered, sweat pouring down his brow. His breathing was ragged, his muscles trembling. Using the Kohaku no Jōhei had torn at his reserves, devouring his chakra like a bottomless pit. Even with the Eight-Tails inside him, the strain was immense. He bent one knee to the dirt, panting.

"Damn… girl… put up… a fight."

And then a shimmer of chakra pulsed beside him.

--

It had been only a few days earlier, in the command tent of the Third Raikage. The heavy atmosphere was lit by a single lantern. Maps were strewn across the table.

Kaien, barely a boy yet already sharp-eyed, hovered at the edge of the room. His small hands clutched at his chakra theory book, but his gaze never wavered. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the unfiltered bluntness of a child.

"Uncle Renga. If we capture the Konoha beast host, Uncle Bee will use so much chakra—" He spread his arms wide, exaggerating the size with childish seriousness. "—like this much! He'll be drained, even if he wins."

Renga frowned, lowering his arms. "Then once Kushina Uzumaki is sealed, Bee can rest. After he replenishes his chakra, he will rejoin the young Lord Ay. That will ensure we dominate the field."

Kaien shook his head fiercely, his black hair bouncing. "No! No, no, Uncle Renga. Even a few moments—just a few—of weakness could turn against us. If Uncle Bee is tired, Konoha will throw everything at him. They'll try to rescue their host or try to capture our own."

He stumbled slightly on the words, but pushed through, his determination childlike and raw. "If that happens, even if the jin… the jinchu— the beast host is sealed, they'll try to capture Uncle Bee to compensate for their jin--chu--ki" [A/N: Kaien not able to spell Jinchuriki]

Renga raised a brow. "And what do you suggest, little strategist?"

Kaien puffed out his chest, trying to look older than he was. "When Uncle Bee uses the sealing tool grandfather said, you stay hidden. The second it's done, you teleport him and the jar to here. and then right away! No waiting, no fighting. You go straight to Grandfather."

The boy's voice softened, almost pleading. "You're too important to waste. You can't get caught."

For a moment, silence filled the tent. The Raikage's deep chuckle rumbled at the edge, though his face remained stern. "Hmph. Even a child sees the risk. Perhaps you're right, Kaien."

Renga exhaled, studying the boy. "So you would have me abandon the field at the most critical moment."

Kaien nodded, his expression stubborn. "Because it's not about winning one battle. It's about keeping the jin...chu...ki of konoha, so they bent to our will."

The boy's words hung heavy. Even in their childish cadence, the logic was sharp.

Renga's eyes softened briefly. He reached out, resting a hand on the boy's head. "You think like a Raikage already."

Kaien grinned, a tooth missing from the side of his smile. "Then listen to me, Uncle Renga. Don't be a fool."

--
Renga landed heavily on the scorched ground, the morning sky behind him split with streaks of fire and chakra. Ahead, Bee knelt in exhaustion, the Kohaku no Jōhei chained to his back like a cursed burden.

"Bee-sama," Renga's voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding, "can you manage a partial transformation? I will teleport you straight to Kumogakure."

Bee tilted his head, panting but still trying to keep up his swagger. "Not needed in rapping… I can walk it out, tapping."

Renga's eyes narrowed. He didn't have time for bravado. "This isn't a request. It's an order from Kaien-dono. With Raikage-sama engaged at the front, Kaien and Aya-sama's directives take precedence. You must comply."

Bee flinched, hearing Renga's tone. Orders were orders, and he couldn't ignore the chain of command, not now. He sighed, muttering to Gyūki inside him.

"Lend me a bit more, partner. Just enough to wrap it up."

A low, rumbling growl resonated within his mind. You're already at your limit, Bee. But fine… I'll give you a tail's worth.

Red chakra bubbled up around Bee's body, coating him in Gyūki's shape. Eight tails whipped into the air, shuddering as they formed, each movement costing him more strength. His breath came ragged, but he forced himself to stabilize the cloak.

"That should be enough," Renga muttered. His hands began to weave through a long sequence of seals, each stroke etched with sharp precision. The air around him distorted, warping like water bending under unseen pressure. His body trembled; Heavenly Transportation was no small feat, especially when carrying both a jinchūriki and the Kohaku No Johei.

The ground beneath them cracked, light flaring in thin streams. Then with a thunderous whum, the space around Bee folded in on itself. His figure blurred, then vanished into the void—Bee and the Kohaku no Jōhei ripped from the battlefield in an instant, flung toward the heart of Kumogakure.

The backlash slammed Renga to one knee. Sweat poured down his face, and his chakra veins screamed in protest. He dug out a handful of energy pills from his pouch, biting down on them one after the other. The bitter taste flooded his mouth, but the surge steadied his breath.

He staggered back to his feet. Renga's jaw tightened. "Bee-sama is safe and the konoha's jinchuriki is successfully captured. That's what matters." Adjusting his cloak, he turned away from the scorched ground and began to run back toward camp, every step heavy but unyielding.

--
A/N: Hints left in previous chapters... were you able to find them?😉
aizenDuchiha0 said:
"Renga will assist you..."

aizenDuchiha0 said:
"No. You should seal their beast host and have Uncle Renga transport it back here. Safer. And faster. For that Uncle Renga should also go to the battlefield."

Chapter Text

The Raikage's tent was a fortress of canvas and steel poles, reinforced like a bunker more than a command center. A dim lantern burned in the corner, casting a golden glow over maps, scrolls, and the enormous silhouette of the Third Raikage. He was pulling on his armor to make an appearance on battlefield when his mind drifted back to a different evening... not so long ago... inside the training yard of Kumogakure.

It was Kaien, little Kaien, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his wiry frame lined with sweat. He had been insistent that day, pestering his grandfather for "real training." Not just chakra control, not calligraphy, but something physical. Something to test himself.

"Muay Thai, jii-sama!" Kaien had shouted, fists raised high, elbows tucked in awkwardly. "The art of eight limbs. I tried to improvise after reading it in a scroll, and it's awesome! Fists, elbows, knees, shins... you can't stop all of it!"

The old Raikage had raised one thick brow, then folded his arms across his chest. "Eight limbs - fists, elbows, knees, and shins. Is that the idea?"

Kaien grinned, his teeth white in the sunlight. "Exactly. Let's see if the wall can hold up!"

The boy had charged in, throwing a flurry of clumsy strikes. A jab, a low kick, an elbow meant to smash into the Raikage's chest. The old man hadn't moved. Every strike hit solid flesh like striking a mountain. Kaien's shins throbbed, his fists ached, his elbows scraped, but he didn't stop. He moved like he'd studied... turning hips, snapping knees, chaining attacks.

Finally, panting and drenched, Kaien leaned against his knees. "You didn't even budge," he muttered.

The Raikage finally cracked a smile. He reached out, rested his massive palm on Kaien's small, sweat-soaked head. "You're improving. Not because you can't hurt me... But because your body and your mind are beginning to move together. You see the strike before you throw it. You shift weight before the limb extends. That coordination, boy... that's what makes a shinobi."

Kaien looked up, wide-eyed. "So… I'm good?"

"You're better," the Raikage said. "And one day, you'll be the wall. Strong enough to hold everyone behind you."

The boy mumbled to himself "The wall...huh..."

The memory faded as the Third Raikage tugged his gauntlets into place, his jaw set. That boy's instinct... the same instinct that had warned about the Yellow Flash, about Kushina, about the Hokage's movements... was sharper than most veterans. He wasn't wrong. Konoha had unleashed both their jinchūriki and their prodigy in the same battalion, it meant they were serious.

The Raikage stepped out of the tent, the morning air bracing against his chest. The art of eight limbs...huh...

--
On the battlefield, kunai glinted like falling stars. Minato Namikaze moved faster than the eye, each flicker of light a teleportation, each strike deadly. He cut down two more earth-style shinobi who tried to bury his weapons underground. Their hands hadn't even finished their seals before he was behind them, his kunai slicing precise and final.

Dodai, though, was different. He had covered his body in a thick rubber coating, layers of hardened chakra-infused latex that blunted Minato's kunai and absorbed the shock of surprise teleportations. Every time Minato appeared, blade flashing for the seal, Dodai twisted, the rubber bulging, stretching, making it impossible for Minato's blade to find flesh.

Minato narrowed his eyes as he disengaged, landing light on the ground. His mind calculated rapidly. I need to tag him. A seal on his body ends this. But the rubber… he's padding himself perfectly. Even a direct stab only sinks halfway.

His hand moved instinctively to a fresh kunai, chakra already searing the Flying Thunder God mark onto the handle. He could plant the seal manually, yes... but that meant making direct contact, palm to skin, in the middle of a battlefield where every second counted. Dangerous. Risky. Not his style unless he was aiming for a killing blow.

Dodai smirked from behind his defenses, sweat dripping but his stance strong. "Your speed's wasted, Yellow Flash. Can't pierce rubber, can't pierce me. You're fast, i can't react to your strike but i have layers of rubber protecting me all the time."

Minato darted in again, flickering from kunai to kunai, probing Dodai's defenses. Each time, Young Ay was there... his body a blur of lightning chakra, intercepting Minato's path, forcing him off balance. Minato could feel it, the coordination. Ay was buying Dodai seconds at a time, and Dodai was turning those seconds into survival.

The Severed Link. Then, it happened.

Minato reached mid-stride for his mark... the special Flying Thunder God seal he had left on Kushina's chakra before the battle. It was his anchor, his safety line to her. His failsafe. But the connection… was gone.

The tether snapped in an instant. One moment it was there, steady and burning at the edge of his senses, and the next it was silence.

Minato froze. His heart clenched. Kushina…? is she dead? even if she is dead, i should be able to sense the FTG mark. So, She must be sealed.

A roar built in his chest, fury burning hotter than any fire. His body blurred with speed, kunai scattering in a furious storm around Young Ay.

Ay laughed, lightning crackling across his shoulders. "What's wrong, brat? Losing focus?" He charged, meeting Minato head-on, sparks splitting the air as kunai clashed against lightning armor.

Minato's strikes lost their surgical precision. They became wild, furious, each teleportation less controlled than the last. His golden hair whipped in the wind as his kunai slashed furiously, but Young Ay's armor held, Dodai's interference cutting off his cleanest kills.

For the first time, Minato fought with RAGE.

--
The ground quaked. A shadow blotted out the stars.

Minato flickered sideways just in time to avoid a crushing fist the size of his torso. The earth exploded where the blow landed, a crater blooming in the soil. Dust and fire shot into the sky.

Standing at the edge of the crater was the Third Raikage. His massive frame glowed with lightning armor, thicker and brighter than anything Ay had conjured. His eyes were steady, cold, unshaken by the chaos of battle.

"You are the Yellow Flash," he said simply, voice rumbling like thunder across the battlefield. "Good. I was hoping to test my speed against your teleportation."

Minato's eyes widened. His breath came ragged, but he set his jaw. So he's come himself… The Raikage didn't wait for an answer. He blurred forward, his speed monstrous for his size and faster than his son, closing the gap before Minato could even blink. The air burned with electricity.

Their clash split the battlefield.

--
A/N: Minato lost about 60% of his FTG kunai to dodai and earth-style users from kumo...

Chapter Text

Minato's breath came shallow and fast, not from exhaustion but from pressure. The battlefield had collapsed into chaos... dust, lightning, and screams weaving into one deafening blur. His Flying Thunder God technique, normally flawless, was shackled. Dodai's rubber traps had stolen most of his kunai, swallowing them into sticky bulges spread across the ground. Each mark became less useful as Dodai corralled them together, forcing Minato's range into predictable clusters.

He had only a handful left... three-pronged kunai strapped to his thigh, and a few scattered seals etched hastily onto nearby trees. They glowed faintly in his vision, lifelines in a storm. But lifelines cut short. Each teleport risked cornering him into a trap. And towering before him, framed in arcs of blinding lightning, was the Third Raikage.

The Raikage moved with terrifying speed for his bulk, each step gouging the earth. When his fist came down, it wasn't a strike... it was a natural disaster. The very air tore apart, pressure flattening shinobi unlucky enough to be nearby. Minato dodged, flickering across the field, but his rhythm faltered. His mind screamed about Kushina, about the vanished mark, about the yawning absence where her chakra should be.

The Raikage's fist grazed his shoulder, and pain ripped across Minato's body. His flak jacket shredded. If it had landed clean, he would already be dead.

"You're fast," the Raikage said, voice like thunder, "but speed without resolve is wasted." He lunged again, faster this time, the ground splitting in his wake.

Minato appeared above him, kunai raised. His strike barely scraped across the cloak of lightning armor. Sparks spat, useless. The Raikage's laughter boomed.

"You can't pierce me, Yellow Flash! You'll die tired!"

Minato landed light but stiff, sweat beading his brow. His options dwindled. His eyes flicked once more to the trees where his seals waited, but the Raikage noticed. He smirked. "I see your anchors. Obvious. You're running out of ground."

Dodai shouted from the flank, his hands still weaving chakra into thick rubber bulwarks. "Raikage-sama! His range is almost gone. Press him harder... he can't keep running forever!"

The Raikage cracked his knuckles. His entire body glowed brighter, lightning armor roaring as if the sky itself poured into him. He raised one finger... the spearhand technique that legends whispered about.

Minato's instincts screamed. If that strike landed, nothing... not seals, not kunai, not even his reflexes... would save him.

The Raikage lunged, the killing blow arcing forward. And then the world shook.

Something slammed into the Raikage's gut with a sound like a tree splitting apart. A black staff, impossibly long, stretching from nowhere, hit with enough force to send even the Raikage flying hundreds of meters back.

The lightning-armored titan skidded across the battlefield, boots carving trenches into the soil. He came to a halt, exhaled once, then straightened. His eyes flicked down to the point of impact. Not even a bruise.

He smirked. "It tickles." His neck cracked as he rolled his shoulders.

Minato blinked in shock. His golden hair whipped in the wind as he turned to see who had intervened. There, standing tall in his black battle armor, the Sarutobi crest gleaming across his chest, was Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage. His eyes burned, sharp as ever, and in his hands rested a black staff... the Monkey King Enma, transformed into his legendary adamantine weapon.

Enma growled in a gravelly voice, "You cut it close, Sarutobi."

Hiruzen's lips curled into the barest smirk. "I have arrived on time."

Relief hit Minato like water after drought. He bowed his head briefly, the weight in his chest lifting. "Hokage-sama." His voice steadied, soldier to commander. "I can't sense Kushina. My Flying Thunder God link... it was cut off. She isn't dead… but sealed. They took her."

Hiruzen's gaze hardened instantly, his hand tightening around Enma. His chakra surged, a storm that rolled across the battlefield. He stared at the distant Raikage with murder in his eyes.

"You've taken something that belongs to Konoha," Hiruzen growled. His voice cut through the chaos, steel wrapped in fury. "And you will return it."

--
The Third Raikage's booming laughter rolled across the battlefield like thunderclaps.

"So it was a success. Just like the little one said." He turned his head toward Young Ay, who had been hovering with Dodai, both staring wide-eyed at Hiruzen's arrival.

"Ay," the Raikage commanded, "fall back. Rest. Be ready to intercept that boy if he runs. You're not needed here."

Young Ay clenched his fists, pride stung. "Father, I can... "

"Now," the Raikage snapped, his voice brooking no argument.

Ay bit his lip but obeyed, stepping back beside Dodai, who quickly reinforced their position.

The Third Raikage's focus returned to Hiruzen, lightning sparking hotter, brighter, alive with killing intent. "I have to thank Ohnoki for me, Sarutobi." His lips twisted. "Now it's my job to snuff him out, and you with him."

The lightning armor doubled in intensity, his muscles swelling with chakra. Every hair on the battlefield stood on end from the static.

"This time," the Raikage rumbled, "I fight to kill."

--
Hiruzen spun Enma once, the staff lengthening, solid and unyielding. "Then test me," he said, voice calm despite the storm. Minato fell in beside him, kunai ready. His golden hair swayed, his eyes clear again. The Hokage's presence steadied him, anchored him. He wasn't alone.

The Raikage roared and charged, his speed tearing through the earth like a bolt of living lightning. Minato vanished, teleporting across the battlefield to intercept from behind. His kunai slashed for the Raikage's exposed side and was deflected by a twitch of the Raikage's lightning-coated elbow. The sparks seared at Minato's cheek, forcing him to teleport again.

Chapter Text

The Raikage's real target was Hiruzen. His spear hand thrust cut the air like a blade. Hiruzen swung Enma in a wide arc, staff expanding in an instant to meet the blow. The impact shook the ground for miles, a shockwave blasting dirt and debris into the air.

Enma grunted through clenched teeth. "He's stronger than the reports... Sarutobi, don't underestimate him!"

Hiruzen pushed back, muscles straining. "I never have."

The staff bent but did not break. The Raikage withdrew, then came again, fists pounding like hammers, each strike enough to kill ten men. Hiruzen parried, blocked, countered, every movement precise. Enma's adamantine form clashed against lightning, sparks showering the battlefield.

Minato darted in and out, his dwindling kunai flashing, forcing the Raikage to divide his focus. But the titan adapted, his movements fluid despite his size, his cloak protecting him from most of Minato's attempts to slash.

The battlefield froze into a triangle of titans: the Lightning god, the professor's staff, and the Yellow Flash.

--
Minato's thoughts burned as he flickered to a seal on a tree, breathing hard. Kushina… they took you. I failed you. But I won't stop here. His grip tightened on his kunai. "Hokage-sama," he called out between clashes, "he's more durable than I imagined. I can't pierce his cloak unless we open him up."

Hiruzen nodded grimly, parrying another crushing strike. "Then we fight together. I'll create the opening... you end it."

The Raikage heard them and laughed. His voice boomed, echoing off the battlefield. "You think you can end me? Foolish. I am the shield of Kumogakure. My body is the ultimate spear and the unbreakable wall. Come, Konoha."

He charged again, lightning splitting the air, killing intent radiating like heat. And Hiruzen met him head-on, Enma roaring, Minato already vanishing into gold.

The true battle had only just begun.

--
The battlefield had narrowed to a deadly arena: three giants locked in motion while lesser shinobi gave them wide berth. Dust hung thick in the air, every clash between staff and lightning blasting shockwaves across the plain.

Hiruzen stood firm at the center, Enma in his hands lengthened into a massive staff. Every block shook his shoulders, but his eyes were steady, his mind calculating. Minato flickered in and out like a restless spark, golden streaks darting across the Raikage's flanks. Together they had carved out a rhythm: Sarutobi anchoring the raikage, Minato slicing from the blindspots.

The Third Raikage was taking blows... not fatal, but real. Minato's speed left shallow cuts along his lightning armor, and once Enma had landed flush against his ribs, the adamantine staff sending a shudder through even that monstrous body. For the first time, the raikage bled. He said, "So, this is what blood tastes like"

Lightning still wrapped him, burning bright, but his breathing came heavier, the sound rasping beneath the thunder.

"You've forced me further than most," he admitted, his gravel voice echoing. His chest rose and fell, steam mingling with sparks. "But neither of you have struck to kill. You nick me, bruise me… but you don't finish."

Minato appeared behind him, kunai flashing, only for the Raikage to twist his shoulder and knock the blade aside with raw muscle. Sparks flew.

"You're fast, boy. But what use is speed without bite?"

Minato's jaw clenched, his golden hair plastered with sweat. He knew the truth in those words. Every strike so far had been meant to set up. To weaken. To stall. Still, he pressed on, hoping for the opening that never came.

--
Hiruzen adjusted his stance. His breath was calm, but the years weighed heavy. His opponent was decades younger, a body carved into living armor by war. Enma snarled in his hands, the staff vibrating with each clash.

"You're forcing him back, Sarutobi," Enma growled. "But we need more. He's adapting with every second."

Hiruzen nodded, sweat streaking through the dust on his face. His mind raced. Minato's Flying Thunder God needed an anchor. His own taijutsu and ninjutsu alone couldn't break the cloak. Together, they had to coordinate.

"Minato," he called out, parrying another earth-splitting blow, "when I pin him, you strike. Don't hesitate. You have to aim to kill."

Minato froze for half a beat. Kill? Can i do it? When i couldn't even pierce his defense He swallowed, then nodded. "Yes, Hokage-sama."

The Raikage smirked, as if hearing their intent. He shifted his weight, raising both fists. He knew he can't fight them both so he wanted to try something new and then his stance changed.

--
It was subtle at first: the spread of his feet, the coiling of his arms. But Hiruzen saw it instantly. The way the Raikage angled his body, elbows sharp, knees lifting high. It wasn't Kumogakure's rigid brute force style. It was fluid, striking from every joint.

Recognition flickered in Hiruzen's eyes. "This is something different... Minato be ready..."

The Raikage's grin widened. "The boy showed me once. I thought it a child's game. But in these hands…" His lightning armor flared brighter, crackling along his limbs. "…it becomes slaughter."

He lunged, not with a punch, but with a knee. It came like a spear, aimed at Hiruzen's chest. Enma snapped down to block, but the Raikage's elbow followed instantly, smashing from the side. For the first time, Hiruzen staggered, the dual strikes bypassing his rhythm.

Minato flickered in, kunai poised for the Raikage's exposed flank. But the titan pivoted on one leg, elbowing backward with unnatural speed. The blow missed Minato's head by inches, the shockwave alone knocking him sprawling.

Now every limb was a weapon: fists crashing, elbows slicing, knees spearing, shins battering. Hiruzen tried to keep up, staff spinning in tight arcs, but each clash bent him further back.

The Raikage's laughter rolled between strikes. "So, this is muay thai."

--
Minato scrambled to his feet, chest heaving. He had one kunai left strapped to his thigh. Just one. Every other was buried in Dodai's rubber, useless. His seals were nearly gone. His Flying Thunder God, the jutsu that made him feared by iwa, was being cornered.

And now Hiruzen was faltering with raikage's unnatural blows.

Chapter Text

Minato tried again, flickering behind the Raikage, driving the kunai for the base of his neck. The cloak sparked, jolting his hand numb. No penetration. The Raikage barely even noticed, his fists hammering down on Hiruzen.

I'm useless, Minato thought, teeth grinding. His power wasn't enough. His precision wasn't enough. He couldn't finish. All he could do was keep darting, keep distracting, hoping to give Hiruzen the sliver of time he needed.

But the Raikage adapted. Every flicker became predictable. His eyes tracked Minato's patterns, his new stance letting him cover angles with terrifying efficiency. Each time Minato appeared, an elbow or a knee forced him away.

Minato froze just a heartbeat. And in that moment of distraction, Hiruzen paid the price.

--
The Raikage saw it... his instincts sharpened to predatory precision. He shifted, knee feinting high, elbow driving low. Hiruzen caught the knee with Enma, but the elbow smashed clean through his guard.

It hit his ribs like a hammer. Bone cracked audibly. The old Hokage gasped, staggering back, blood spraying from his lips.

"HIRUZEN-SAMA!" Minato cried, panic flooding his voice. He flickered forward without thinking, kunai raised.

But the Raikage was already there, pivoting into a roundhouse kick. It connected with Minato's chest before he could blink, the blow sending him crashing into the dirt, ribs rattling, breath gone.

Hiruzen coughed blood, forcing himself upright, staff trembling in his grip. His chest burned, each inhale a jagged knife. He'd saved Minato from the killing strike... taken it himself instead.

The Raikage stood over them, lightning dancing across his limbs, his new stance radiating death.

"This is what happens when you fight half-heartedly," he growled.

--

Minato clawed himself upright, gasping, vision blurred. He could barely hold his kunai. His mind screamed at him to move, to fight, to protect Hiruzen...but his body felt heavy, sluggish.

I'm failing him. I'm failing Kushina. I'm failing everyone.

Hiruzen's voice rasped beside him, low but steady despite the blood at his lips. "Don't… give in. Listen to me, Minato. Even when the wall seems unbreakable… there is always a way. Think. Use your mind."

But the words barely registered. The Raikage was already advancing again, each step booming like a drumbeat of doom. His fists and knees twitched, ready to unleash the art of eight limbs again.

Minato's hand shook around his kunai. He had no plan. No strength. He could only watch as the Hokage raised Enma for another clash, ribs broken, body faltering. Helplessness sank into his chest like lead.

--
Hiruzen's chest ached with every breath, ribs cracked from the Raikage's elbow. His arms shook from holding Enma, but his eyes burned with resolve. He turned to Minato, his voice grave but steady.

"Minato, leave. You are the future of Konoha. I will hold him here."

Minato's head whipped around, panic in his blue eyes. "Hokage-sama—"

Hiruzen cut him off with a raised hand. "I will use the Shiki Fūjin. With it, I can end this. You must live, Minato. You must lead."

The words hit like thunder. Minato hesitated, fists trembling, the weight of uselessness pressing on him harder than any wound. He wanted to argue, but deep down, he knew the truth. He had been nothing but a distraction here. The Raikage's defense was too overwhelming. His kunai were gone. His precision meant nothing against that cloak of lightning and his durability.

Tears burned his eyes as he bit his lip. "Forgive me…"

And then he vanished in a flash of yellow, retreating few kilometers away, out of reach. His heart twisted as he left the Professor behind, but he obeyed.

--
Hiruzen stood alone now, Enma reverting from staff form, growling low at his side.

"You're going to use that jutsu," Enma said, solemn.

"Yes," Hiruzen answered, weaving hand signs. Two shadow clones flickered into existence, their expressions grim, mirroring his own. All three had a unanimous seal on their stomachs, summoning the cursed seal marks of the Shiki Fūjin.

Enma snarled, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Do you understand what this means? Once you summon the Reaper, there's no return."

Hiruzen nodded, his eyes never leaving the silhouette of the Raikage. "I know. But if my life can stop him, then it is worth it. This is my moment. I shall protect konoha till my last breath. It is time for the next generation to take over. Minato will become strong with this burning desire."

--
At that moment on the other side, young Ay appeared at his father's side, skidding to a halt, a scroll clutched in his fist. His chest still heaved from the battle where he had butchered hundreds of Konoha shinobi, his aura fierce with bloodlust.

"Father," Ay said, holding out the scroll. "From the little one. He said the Hokage might try some final ditch attempt."

The Third Raikage tore the scroll open, scanning the lines with sharp eyes. Recognition flashed across his face. A grin followed, grim and satisfied.

"So that's their trump card," he rumbled. "The Shiki Fūjin."

Young Ay frowned. "What is it?"

"A sealing art that bypasses body and chakra alike. It devours the soul and seals. Even this lightning cloak would not protect me from it." The Raikage raised the scroll high for hiruzen to see and he was observing his expressions of hiruzen to verify authenticity of kaien's claims in the scroll as he can't rely on some random information in life and death battle. "But fortune smiles, Professor. Uzushio kept duplicates of their arts. And we looted them."

Hiruzen froze, his blood turning to ice. Seeing his trump card technique in the hands of raikage.

The Raikage smirked, his teeth glinting as if his theory had been proved. "You regret not saving them, don't you? Perhaps if Konoha had moved faster, the Uzumaki's treasures would still be theirs. Uzumaki would have not fallen"

Hiruzen's stomach twisted with guilt. The images of the fallen village flashed before his eyes, proud Uzumaki shinobi cut down, their scrolls looted. Had Konoha stood by too long? Had his hesitation damned them?

If only I had acted…

Now his one chance... the Shiki Fūjin... was spoiled before it even began. No... Not yet... He turned towards someone and his confidence blooming again.

--
A/N: I will be ranking the characters for better understanding of power levels.

Hiruzen - 1000

3rd Raikage Ay - 1050 (1150 after basic muay thai)

Minato (No rasengan) - 800 (700 after losing kunai)

Killer Bee - 750

Young Ay - 700

Kushina - 700

Chapter Text

The two shadow clones leapt forward, seals burning bright, hands outstretched to grab the Raikage.

But after Ay knew what the old man was tiring. His body flickered, and his went full force with Hell Stab speared through the back of one clone before it could touch him. The clone dissolved in smoke. The second met the same fate an instant later.

Hiruzen's real body staggered back, stunned.

The Raikage's laughter boomed. "You dare come at me with bare hands? Don't forget, Sarutobi—I already know your trick. That seal on your stomach is blatantly visible. You cannot surprise me with it." He lifted the scroll of the Shiki Fūjin for emphasis, mocking him with stolen knowledge.

Hiruzen's heart sank. A waste. His greatest jutsu, undone.

The Raikage's gaze sharpened. "It seems even the Professor has limits. Without your little ghost god, you have no way to stop me."

Hiruzen's fists clenched. His eyes flicked toward Ay—the younger Raikage, still fresh with blood from a thousand kills, the one who had seized the chakra ore mines. The real threat to Konoha's future wasn't the father. It was the son who will take over kumo.

"If I cannot seal you," Hiruzen growled, voice dark, "then I will seal him."

--
The last shadow clone flickered behind young Ay, Enma in his monkey form battering the young ay with a flood of strikes. Distracted, young Ay snarled, blocking blows with brute strength. For just a moment, his guard slipped.

The clone's eyes flashed. Genjutsu. Ay's movements stuttered as the illusion clouded his mind.

Hiruzen lunged, real body closing the distance, his palm pressing against young Ay's chest.

"Shiki Fūjin!" he roared.

Young Ay's eyes widened in shock as he felt it—the pull at his very soul. His body stiffened, lightning cloak sparking wildly, fighting against the invisible grip. He screamed, muscles bulging, refusing to be dragged away.

Hiruzen strained, face contorted with effort. The Shinigami loomed behind him, its spectral hand clawing into Ay's chest, tugging. But the young ay's will was ferocious. His durability, his raw chakra, resisted the pull but the professor didn't back down either.

Sweat poured down Hiruzen's brow. His body screamed in agony as the Shinigami's grip immobilized them both. Neither could move. Neither could break free.

It was a stalemate—but a stalemate meant death on a battlefield.

--
"AY!" The Third Raikage's roar cracked the air. His lightning flared like a second sun.

He charged, Hell Stab gleaming, aimed straight for Hiruzen's head.

Enma threw himself between them, his monkey body intercepting the blow. "HIRUZEN!"

The Raikage snarled, muscles bulging as he shoved Enma aside with brute force. The Monkey King was hurled back, skidding across the battlefield, blood spraying from his mouth.

Hiruzen's heart sank. His bluff had failed. He'd told the Raikage anyone touching him would also be sealed, but the giant didn't care. He'd risk his own soul to save his son.

So this is it, Hiruzen thought, sorrow heavy in his chest. Tobirama-sensei… is this how you felt, throwing your life away for the next generation?

The Raikage's hand pierced forward.

--
The Hell Stab rammed through Hiruzen's skull, puncturing his brain in an instant. His eyes widened, blood streaming down his face. The Shinigami flickered, the seal unraveling, Ay's soul snapping back into his body with a scream.

Hiruzen sagged, the jutsu collapsing, his body crumpling to the ground. The light faded from his eyes.

The Professor of Konoha...third of the Hokage... had fallen.

The Raikage stood over him, lightning still crackling, his chest heaving with fury. His son staggered beside him, trembling from the near-death experience, eyes wide with shock. For a moment, there was silence. Even the battlefield seemed to still, the weight of Hiruzen's death pressing down on all. And then the Raikage spoke, voice low and venomous.

"You fought well, professor. You were greatest opponent till date. Konoha will remember this as the day their Professor died… and the day their future crumbled. With this the plans are set in motion."

--
The battlefield had quieted, the dust of Hiruzen's final stand still lingering in the air. The Third Raikage, cloak of lightning now dismissed, walked with heavy but deliberate steps toward his immobilized son. Young Ay was still trembling from the Shinigami's grip, his muscles spasming, his lightning cloak flickering wildly as he tried to stabilize himself.

"Father…" he breathed, his voice hoarse. "I thought it was over. His jutsu… it was tearing my soul away. But when the Hokage died, it all… snapped back. I am OK--"

The Raikage looked down at him, silent for a long moment, eyes cold and heavy with judgment. Then his massive fist tightened, veins bulging across his forearm.

"Don't be distracted in the battlefield," he said flatly.

The fist sank into Young Ay's stomach like a hammer. The young Ay's eyes bulged, breath tearing from his lungs as the force sent him skidding backward across the ruined ground. His lightning cloak sputtered, then cut off entirely. He landed on his knees, coughing, clutching his abdomen. Ay thought he had received more damage from his father's raw power than the entire battle.

He looked up, eyes wide, searching for some hint of acknowledgment, some recognition that he'd endured what no other shinobi could have survived. But the Raikage only turned away, already issuing commands.

"Enough. Jounin!" the Raikage barked, voice like thunder.

Several Kumo shinobi appeared at once, hardened veterans, their faces tight with awe at the sight of Hiruzen Sarutobi's body lying broken on the ground.

"Take the Hokage's corpse back to Kumo," the Raikage ordered. "It will serve as proof. And a reminder to the world of Kumo's supremacy. We can bargain for resources or use it for research."

The shinobi bowed, moving to carefully lift Hiruzen's fallen form.

--
As the Raikage watched, his broad shoulders relaxed slightly. But his mind did not rest. He began walking across the cracked earth, every step a reminder of the strain of battle. He had killed the Hokage. But something about the fight nagged at him.

And then… that moment.

His brow furrowed. He remembered at one time minato teleporting, not to his marked kunai, but directly beside Hiruzen. He had seen the pattern of the Yellow Flash countless times by now, but that was different. Not a kunai, not a trap mark on the trees. It was Minato teleporting to the Hokage himself. He stopped walking, the realization digging into his thoughts like claws.

So… it's not just kunai. He has used a marker on hiruzen.His lips curled into a grin, slow and cruel. He turned his head slightly toward the jounin carrying Hiruzen's body.

"Wait," he commanded, his deep voice freezing them in their tracks.

--
A/N: Here I wanted to show raikage's recklessness in trying to touch hiruzen for his son. The Hokage's bluff could have been true but the Raikage didn't care for his own life.

And no one can see the shinigami behind hiruzen. But the hiruzen's attempt to touching and the seal on his stomach is visible.

What is Raikage planning in stopping the jounin?

aizenDuchiha0 said:
"Minato escaped and that is what hiruzen sacrificed himself for.

With hiruzen gone. There is a scary minato wanting to kill raikage for what he did to hiruzen and kidnapping kushina. He alone is enough for kumo to keep themselves on toes.

There is still 4th hokage. Unlike hiruzen, who wanted to end everything peacefully. He will do anything for konoha and it will be bad for kumo.

if you think konoha went downfall then you are very wrong. In fact with hiruzen gone, konoha will not longer be easy go village like it used to be.

There is still kakashi. Imagine a scary minato and kakashi with no moral... Damn that's scary."

Chapter Text

The Kumo shinobi froze, exchanging nervous glances. "Raikage-sama?"

He strode back, looming over Hiruzen's corpse, his shadow falling across the fallen Professor. He stared down at the old man's face, the lines of battle still etched in death, the faint trace of blood still at his lips. And then, like lightning flashing in a storm, the idea struck him fully formed.

"Ha… ha ha ha…" His laughter started low, rumbling like distant thunder, then built into something manic. He threw his head back, laughing, the sound echoing across the ruined battlefield. The shinobi looked at him in confusion, but none dared interrupt. And he said "I got an idea..."

--
Minato Namikaze eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, his mind reaching across the threads of chakra he had woven into the world. Every kunai he had marked was accounted for. Every tree and stone he had inscribed with FTG mark was still faintly glowing in his mind. And then there was one more.

The mark on Hiruzen Sarutobi.

Minato's throat tightened. He had felt the severing of life when the Shinigami had claimed the Hokage. He knew there was no coming back from Shiki Fujin and Minato couldn't let hokage's body remain in enemy hands.

He whispered into the emptiness, as though Hokage could hear him still: "You deserve more than this. Not to rot in a battlefield. Not in the hands of men who laughed at your sacrifice. You deserve Konoha to honor you."

So he waited. Three long days. Hidden, moving through the forests in silence, eating almost nothing, sleeping barely at all. He waited for the mark to move. But nothing moved. Luckily, Kumo had left the body on the battlefield.

At first Minato thought it was arrogance leaving the Hokage's corpse as a mockery, a symbol of their dominance. But something about it was wrong. The Third Raikage was many things, but not a fool.

Still, Minato couldn't abandon the Hokage's body to be eaten by crows but he was also prepared for any traps. And so, finally, on the third night, he used "chakra sensing technique" to make sure there was no raikage nearby. he placed his hand on the ground, whispered the seals in his head, and vanished in a flash of yellow.

--
He appeared in silence, the air still heavy with the scent of scorched earth and blood. The battlefield was quiet now, a graveyard of shattered trees and broken stones. Minato's heart pounded as he turned, eyes searching.

And then he saw it.

Not a body. Only a hand.

A severed hand, lying on the ground, palm open toward the sky. The mark he had placed on hokage's arm was left there.

And surrounding it…

Paper bombs. Thousands of them. Layered in patterns so precise Minato's stomach twisted. Every inch of ground within twenty meters was covered, a carpet of destruction waiting for the slightest touch. The smell of explosive powder was thick in the air, mingling with the copper scent of blood.

His legs weakened. He dropped to his knees.

His voice broke as he whispered, "What did they do to you, Hokage-sama…?"

Kumo hadn't just killed him. They had carved him apart, turned his death into bait, and desecrated what little remained. It wasn't just brutality. It was cruelty designed to break him.

--
Minato's first thought was rage. His instincts screamed that it was a trap. His rational mind calculated distances, detonation range, and escape speed in less than a second. He knew he could teleport away before the paper bombs ever ignited.

But his heart wouldn't let him leave.

His fingers trembled as he reached out. He had to take something back. A body for a funeral. A relic for Konoha. Anything. So he lifted the hand, holding it as though it were fragile glass, pressing it against his chest. His eyes burned, tears spilling down his face, something he never let anyone see.

And then it happened. The paper bombs ignited.

The explosion began not with fire, but with heat. A flash of chakra across the seals that spread like wildfire, consuming every single bomb in an instant.

But Minato teleported away and then he heard distant sound of explosion.

--
Minato collapsed with hokage's hand clenching. Kushina was gone. Sealed away. Hiruzen was gone, sacrificed. And now he was holding only a fragment, a piece of the man who had once guided all of Konoha.

For the first time in years, Minato Namikaze broke. His sobs tore through the night, his chest heaving as he clutched the hand tighter. He whispered through his tears, "I failed. I failed you, Kushina. I failed you, Hokage-sama. I couldn't protect either of you. I couldn't…"

Minato's eyes widened as the hand in his grip began to glow, Enhanced paper bombs hidden beneath the skin of the hokage's hand, itself activating.

His mind snapped back into motion. Teleport. Now. But if he teleported, he would drag the explosion [Hand with paper bombs] with him. For the first time, the Yellow Flash realized he might be too slow.

He roared, "No!".

--
He appeared a hundred meters away, staggering as another explosion tore through the forest behind him. The shockwave hit him like a wall, knocking him forward to his knees. Fire and earth erupted into the sky, the roar of destruction swallowing the night. Pain tore through his right arm.

He looked down. His sleeve was gone, his skin blackened and smoking. From shoulder to fingertips, his arm was charred, the flesh burned deep by the force of the explosion. He had escaped, but not whole.

His breath came ragged. His vision blurred with tears and smoke. He tried to move his fingers and found nothing but pain. His right arm... his throwing arm, his kunai hand... was ruined. The realization struck harder than the explosion itself. The Yellow Flash had been maimed.

He hugged his ruined arm to his chest, and for a moment he wasn't the genius, the prodigy, the hero of Konoha. He was just a man, broken by loss.

He screamed into the night, voice raw and cracked: "RAIKAGE!"

His shout echoed across the empty battlefield, carried by wind and fire. His chakra surged wildly, golden sparks snapping around him as rage overtook grief.

"You took Kushina from me! You took Hokage-sama! You defiled his body!" His voice shook, half sobbing, half fury. "I swear… I swear on my life, I will make you pay! I will make Kumo burn for this!"

--
A/N: Here is what happened. I wanted to write this from minato's perspective.

Raikage knowing there is a mark on hiruzen, asked his men to disrobe him and search for any mark and they found it on a hand. raikage cut the hand and sealed other body and asked his men to place their paper bombs around the hand and raikage himself have taken out few high quality paper bombs with mild lightning chakra and placed inside the hand for another layer of trap.

Inspired from Hunter x Hunter; hisoka fight against tiger.

With this minato lost his right arm, hokage and kushina. His character has been set and Kumo gained a dangerous enemy, who will be multiple times stronger than canon.

Chapter Text

Since the battlefield burned with Hiruzen Sarutobi's last stand. One year since the Yellow Flash had returned, not triumphant, but scarred and one-armed.

Konoha had not healed.

The war pressed on all fronts. Iwa's forces moved like an endless tide, pushing against Fire Country's western lines. Kumo dug its claws into the north, pillaging mines and seizing land rich in chakra ore. Suna, ever opportunistic, struck from the south with puppets and poisons, their warbands seeking to bleed Konoha dry.

And yet, within the heart of the village, a different war brewed. Not one of kunai and chakra, but whispers and shadows.

The Council had moved quickly to suppress the truth of Kushina's capture, luckily kumo did not blatantly boast capturing konoha's jinchuriki. The knowledge that Konoha's Jinchūriki had been taken by Kumo would have been catastrophic. Other villages would have rushed to exploit the weakness, each eager to rip apart the Fire Country.

But rumors had a way. A narrative spread among the rank-and-file shinobi: Minato Namikaze had abandoned the Third Hokage. He had lived up to his name...Yellow Flash, yes, but not for striking down enemies. For running away.

"Just think," some would whisper at campfires. "Your Captain{Minato} could leave you at any time. Just imagining that he can teleport away in the face of enemies."

It wasn't entirely believed. Many remembered Minato's courage, his speed, his brilliance. But in war, doubt was poison. And doubt, once planted, spread fast.

--
Into that void left by hiruzen, stepped Danzo Shimura. The Council had named him temporary Hokage... some said, "until the war is done." But Danzo was no fool. He was a man who had spent his life waiting for moments like this. He cloaked himself in the language of necessity. Konoha could not afford sentiment. Konoha could not afford hesitation. Konoha could not afford weakness.

And so, Danzo moved his pieces.

He recalled Minato from the hot water against kumo, stationing him against Suna alongside the Hyūga clan. A subtle insult... pairing the Yellow Flash, hero of countless skirmishes, with a clan prized more for defense than glory. Against Suna's puppets, the Hyūga shone, demolishing delicate chakra threads with precision strikes. Minato was useful, yes, but Danzo ensured he was not in a position to reclaim honor or influence, which is very much possible if he was left at Kumo.

At the same time, he shifted the Uchiha. Fugaku and his clansmen were pulled into kumo's grinding front lines, in positions of command. The message was clear: the Uchiha would bleed for Konoha, but they would not rise. At the same time, holding lines for konoha. By the end of the war, he didn't want any clan to have significant power to challenge his authority.

The Ino-Shika-Chō clans, too, were carefully managed. Their teamwork was invaluable, Danzo split their formations, pairing them with Uchiha units. On paper, it was strategy...mind, shadow, and transformation supporting genjutsu. In truth, it was a leash. He could claim their victories as combined effort, preventing any one clan from earning too much honor. and he could always collect the sharingan from the dead.

And Root?

Root never left the shadows. Danzo hoarded his personal forces, keeping them from the battlefield under the excuse that they were "vital for homeland security." In reality, they were his ace, his unseen dagger, his proof that he... unlike the others... always thought beyond the war at hand. He needed force to enforce after the war ended.

--
Meanwhile, the Sannin themselves were scattered.

Jiraiya and Orochimaru waged war in the west, locking horns with Iwa's armies. Their strategies could not have been more different. Jiraiya inspired, rallying soldiers with charisma and the promise of survival. Orochimaru dissected, probing Iwa's weaknesses with clinical cruelty. Together, they held the line, though the ground was paid for in blood.

Tsunade, however, stayed behind. Her fear of blood after her brother's death, long mocked in whispers, became open truth. She was not at the front, but in the hospitals, transforming Konoha's medical corps into something no other village could rival. In her hands, the wounded lived. Soldiers who should have died returned to the field. Yet in the darker corners of the barracks, some still sneered: "The Slug Princess hides behind medics."

--
Danzo, ever pragmatic, made another ruthless choice.

The Academy years were cut. Where once shinobi trained 6 years before earning their forehead protectors, now it was 4. Children barely past childhood were marched to the front, their fear masked by forced pride. They died young, but they died serving the village..and in Danzo's eyes, that was honoring them.

Every funeral fed his rhetoric: Konoha endured because of sacrifice. And who embodied sacrifice better than Danzo Shimura, the man shouldering the burden of Hokage in wartime?

--
Far away, in the mountain fortress of Kumogakure, the Third Raikage held council.

The great man sat cross-legged, cloak discarded, lightning no longer dancing across his frame. His voice was gravel, steady as stone.

"Should we press into Fire Country?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "Seize their lands, now that we have stabilized our position at hot water?"

Kaien, seated nearby, sucked thoughtfully on the pacifier that had become his force of habit, which allowed him to think effectively when munching on it. He removed it with a faint pop.

"It isn't economical, Grandfather. Land is nothing but weight during wartime. Let the Fire Daimyo bleed coin to feed this endless conflict. We capture what matters. Resources. Mines. The chakra ore veins we've already secured will fuel us for years. Expansion only spreads us thin."

The Raikage grunted, considering. Kaien's logic was irritatingly sound.

Renga spoke next, his tone sharper, more urgent. "Raikage-sama, we've received word from Ay from the frontline. Konoha has begun deploying Uchiha against our northern fronts. Our shinobi are falling to their genjutsu. Losses are increasing."

The Raikage's eyes narrowed. "The Uchiha, eh… They sure are strong." He paused, then rumbled, "Send more reinforcements from 2nd base. Operate in two-man cells. If one is caught, the other disrupts the chakra. We'll cut through their illusions with discipline."

Kaien leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Not enough. The Uchiha feed on emotions. Their eyes grow sharper the deeper they drown in them. We strike at the source. Deploy calming bombs. They dull the nervous system, dampen emotion. Pair them with sedatives. We capture, but we do not kill. "

The Raikage frowned. "Mercy for the Uchiha?"

--
A/N: I apologize for the delay. I have been piling up chapters for patreon to make sure there are 20 advanced chapters. Now, I am done. So, if interested... now is the time.

So... the much needed time skip after hiruzen's death. Everything from Hiruzen's death to kushina's capture was hidden.

Chapter Text

The Raikage frowned. "Mercy for the Uchiha?"

"Not mercy," Kaien replied neutrally. "They have high research value." However kaien internally thought, if they witness too much death, too much pain, they might awaken Mangekyō. That we cannot allow.

Renga nodded grimly. "We can source the herbs from the Genbu Island natives. They've used them for generations."

The Raikage exhaled, long and heavy. He glanced toward the north, where his son Ay commanded at the Hot Water border. The boy was strong, reckless. It was genjutsu that caught him a year ago.

Then Kaien added, almost casually, "And do not forget, Grandfather… to thank Onoki for the information on yellow flash."

The Raikage smirked. Onoki had named yellow flash and gave a flee on sight order on minato, which helped us deduce his ability, which was boon. Now, we will give him a boon as a thanks.

--
Onoki was tired. Not in the way old bones creak at dawn, nor in the way years of carrying the Tsuchikage's mantle weighed on him. This was war-weariness, and though he was a veteran of countless campaigns, this one gnawed differently.

From almost one year, Iwa's armies had gained land and ground against the Fire Country. Step by step, stone by stone, they pressed deeper. And yet their logistics strained like an overburdened mule. Supplies ran thin, rations were stretched, and still the war dragged on. Onoki had been patient. Victory wasn't always won by swift strikes. Sometimes it was slow suffocation. He was willing to wait.

But then came the scroll.

A simple courier delivered it, face pale, hands trembling. The report was straightforward: details of a skirmish, some two hundred shinobi clashing along the border against Kumo forces. The information itself was nothing new... just another battle in a war of endless battles. But the whispers that followed the scroll lit a fire in Onoki's gut.

Kumo shinobi were boasting. Laughing in taverns and camps, declaring with open throats: "Our Raikage killed the Hokage. The Leaf's old monkey is gone. Next, it will be the Stone's Tsuchikage. Onoki is nothing before our lightning."

Onoki's eyes had narrowed at that. It wasn't the kumo shinobi's supposed intention to kill him that gnawed. Raikage was powerful, yes, but Raikage's arrogance didn't concern him. What did concern him was the puzzle piece falling into place.

The Hokage dead. The Yellow Flash has been called off the battle a year ago when they were at advantage, which is weird. Somebody else is ordering in place of Hokage. Suddenly the erratic movements of Konoha's armies made sense. The overextension at Iwa's front, the weakened counter offensives, the clumsy strategic retreats. This wasn't Hiruzen's hand. Hiruzen Sarutobi would never have directed the war this way.

Onoki's lips had twisted into a grimace.

"So it's true," he muttered to himself. "The Raikage killed him. That fool old monkey… Just wait what i will do to konoha."

If it was a lie, then he would confirm it with his own eyes. If it was truth, then he would exploit the void. And so, the old man took flight.

--
For three days he flew, his body held aloft by his mastery of weight and stone. He did not hide his approach. His chakra signature was vast, deliberate, impossible to miss. Let Konoha see him coming. Let them feel dread settle in their camps.

When he arrived at the front, his eyes scanned for the Hokage... expecting him to arrive after his deliberate move of announcing his presence. None. The old monkey was truly gone.

--
The clash came swiftly after. Iwa's banners rose like waves of stone across the ridgelines. Konoha's shinobi braced in the valleys, their numbers thinner than they should have been. Dan Kato rallied one flank. Jiraiya and Orochimaru led the other.

The battle was not a single grand duel. It was not Onoki hurling a jinton beam and ending it all. No. It was a war of attrition, grinding and brutal, where earth and fire and flesh collided again and again.

Onoki floated above, surveying, guiding, crushing swaths of enemy forces when needed. His Dust Release turned squads into ash, leaving craters in the earth. Each time he raised his hand, Konoha's shinobi scattered like ants, desperate not to be caught.

Yet Orochimaru struck back with cunning. His serpents slithered across the battlefield, constricting Iwa lines, dragging soldiers beneath the earth. His sword gleamed, piercing stone-armored foes with surgical precision.

Beside him, Jiraiya unleashed a tide of summons. Giant toads crashed onto the field, smashing through earth walls with massive swings. Oil mixed with fire, creating infernos that forced Iwa to raise barrier after barrier of stone.

Dan Kato, with his spirit transformation, struck deep into enemy lines, breaking formations, rallying Konoha's wavering troops. His chakra burned bright, his will unwavering. But Iwa pressed harder.

They came in disciplined waves, walls of earth rising and collapsing in rhythm, spears of stone erupting beneath Konoha's feet. Their sheer numbers and coordination began to tell.

--
Hours bled into a day. A day into two. The battle was not a clash of instant victory...it was a grindstone. Each side feeding soldiers into the maw, each side bleeding.

Onoki's Dust Release carved too many graves. Even restrained, his presence forced Konoha to scatter, disrupting their formations.

Orochimaru adapted with venomous cunning, but he could not be everywhere. Jiraiya fought like a storm, his chakra reserves dwindling as his summons bled into smoke.

Dan Kato darted again and again into enemy lines, his spirit slamming into commanders, breaking Iwa morale where he could. But his body was weakening. Each use of the technique drained him, left him gasping, left him vulnerable. Konoha's squads fought valiantly. But for every Iwa shinobi they cut down, two more seemed to rise.

The weight of attrition pressed. Slowly, inexorably, Konoha began to bend.

--
It happened on the third day. Onoki descended personally, hovering above the central clash. His Dust Release cube expanded, threatening to erase Orochimaru's position in an instant.

Dan Kato did not hesitate. His spirit surged forth, slamming into Onoki mid-activation. The jutsu collapsed, the cube dispersing harmlessly.

But Onoki snarled, his body flickering with stone-light. He countered, catching Kato's spirit with crushing weight. The strain was unbearable. Kato's body convulsed, his chakra burning out like a candle snuffed. He collapsed to the ground, chest heaving.

"Go!" he rasped to Orochimaru and Jiraiya, forcing his body to rise again. "Protect the Leaf... don't let him..."

Onoki's final blast of Dust Release consumed him. There was no body of kato. Only ash on the wind. Konoha's defence cracked.

--
A/N: So onoki has arrived... his jutsu dwindling both konoha's and iwa's numbers with iwa shinobi getting caught. Iwa had many shinobi anyways. Tsunade has hemophobia, so she is not participating directly but supporting as medical chief.

Chapter Text

The battle raged on. Konoha's morale wavered, but Orochimaru and Jiraiya fought with desperation, rage sharpening their strikes. On the fourth day, Onoki moved again, aiming to erase Orochimaru himself, who had been constant hinderance. A massive jinton beam carved through the battlefield, aimed directly for the Snake Sannin and his summon. Orochimaru was caught and lost an arm. and his summon was dispelled.

Jiraiya saw it first. He didn't think. He exhaled hard. The oil of Mount Myōboku shimmered faintly across his skin, his hair spiking more wildly than usual. He hadn't mastered it yet... his Sage Mode was flawed, his balance slipping, nature chakra fighting against his body. Red pigmentation spread unevenly around his eyes, twitching at the edges. But he couldn't wait for perfection.

"Guess I'll have to wing it," he muttered, half-worried, half-grimacing.

He slammed his hands together. Nature chakra swirled, his body trembling under the strain. Frogs' croaks echoed faintly in the air, then warped into silence. His muscles hardened, his senses stretched, but not enough... it was not perfect. Still, Jiraiya stepped forward.

Onoki narrowed his eyes as he was floating in air. "You really think half-baked Senjutsu can reach me?" His voice was calm, but the cube in his hand pulsed brighter, humming with annihilation.

Jiraiya didn't answer. He flung a massive swamp of oil across the battlefield, the earth liquefying under Iwa shinobi, dragging them down. At the same time, his lungs burned as he expelled a roaring Fire Release: Toad Flame Bullet, turning the battlefield into an inferno.

Onoki responded by lightening his troops and lifting them clear of the swamp, his Dust Release cube expanding. The clash of techniques sent tremors through the ridge, the firestorm scattering as chakra pressure threatened to erase everything.

For a moment, Jiraiya's knees buckled. His Sage Mode flickered. He was bleeding energy too fast, and Onoki knew it. But Jiraiya only smirked. "Doesn't matter if it's perfect or not. All I need is a few minutes… and you're not going anywhere, old man."

Then he lunged... imperfect, unsteady, but utterly unyielding.

Sage-enhanced strikes hammered into Onoki's stone clones, shattering them like pebbles. His giant toad summons crashed into the Iwa lines, buying space. Onoki kept firing Dust Release cubes, but each time Jiraiya forced him to redirect... slamming him with wild but powerful Senjutsu strikes, forcing the Tsuchikage to defend and come to ground rather than advance.

Behind them, Konoha's battered troops finally slipped away into the forested ridges, alive because this man refused to stand down.

By the time Jiraiya collapsed to one knee, his Sage Mode unraveling completely, Onoki finally steadied himself in the air, panting harder than he'd admit. The young man was battered, chakra nearly empty, but still smiling.

"Looks like… I was enough of a nuisance," Jiraiya said, voice raspy but proud.

Onoki glared but sweat dripping from constant jinton release, then he released Dust Release cube and let it envelop jiraiya. "You're reckless, boy. But I'll admit it...you've got grit."

Jiraiya only chuckled through the pain, staring up at the sky. Konoha had escaped. That was enough. Just as he was waiting for his death. He opened his eyes in Mount Myōboku, he was reverse summoned.

--
Onoki floated above the field, surveying the carnage. He did not smile. Victory in war was ash on the tongue. But victory it was. "The Hokage is dead," he murmured to himself. "Dan kato and Jiraiya dead. Orochimaru lost an arm."

Behind him, Iwa's shinobi roared in triumph. But losses were just as high.

--
A month after forcing Konoha into retreat, Onoki sat in his war chamber surrounded by maps that stretched across the hidden nations. His beard quivered with excitement as he jabbed one gnarled finger at the Land of Sound.

"Konoha has been pushed back. Their Hokage is dead. Iwa has the numbers. Why would Kumo share such an information... is it to divert us to continue attacking konoha... so kumo can attack iwa. Now, it is Kumo's turn to taste defeat."

The Iwa council shifted nervously. Some elders whispered of caution, but Onoki silenced them. For two years his men had bled. His coffers drained. But with victories piling, his confidence swelled. He saw weakness in Raikage's scattered deployments. They are better for war of attrition but for sudden full blown out war, with scattered forces, he can demolish kumos force.

He summoned his greatest weapons: Han, the steam-armored tank of the Five-Tails, and Roshi, the lava-hearted host of the Four-Tails.

"You two will march with ten thousand shinobi. The unclaimed region near land of frost is held by no more than five hundred Kumo shinobi, scattered after their little skirmishes. Sweep them aside. Burn their bases to the ground. Let all the world see that Iwa does not share power... it takes it."

Han stood silent, massive and brooding, his breath always steaming behind the mask. Roshi spat, unimpressed.

"You're using us like hammers, old man. But fine. We'll smash."

They didn't like each other... two jinchuriki bound to Iwa's cause but bound by nothing else. Still, with ten thousand shinobi at their back, they marched eastward.

--
The column snaked like a gray serpent across valleys and mountains. Ten thousand meant supremacy in numbers, but also a burden.

Food: Even with strict rationing, carts couldn't keep pace. Every meal drained the stores faster than expected. Hunting slowed the march.

Chakra supplies: Hundreds of medics burned through pills and herbs just keeping stamina up.

Morale: Soldiers joked that Onoki thought shinobi grew on trees. The reality was far uglier... hunger gnawed, arguments broke, deserters whispered of slipping away at night.

Still, fear of Han and Roshi kept the army moving.

A week later they passed through Takigakure, the Hidden Waterfall Village. The forests concealed Kumo's eyes. Spies noted their every stride. And sent the report, which would take at least a week for the Raikage to know as it is difficult to not get caught by Iwa.

--
A/N: Jiraiya sage mode is far weaker than what what he used against pain (this is almost 17 years old). The sage mode boost gave him a chance to keep him in air by lunging.

Now.... Iwa march towards Kumo.

Chapter Text

<p><a rel="nofollow">

At last they reached the outskirts of Sound's Kumo base. No grand fortress, only rough encampments reinforced over a year of occupation. One thousand Kumo shinobi held it, veterans hardened from fighting Konoha alike.

Han gave no speech. Roshi gave no quarter.

The earth split in molten rivers as Roshi unleashed the Four-Tails' lava release, turning walls and barracks to slag. Han released jets of searing steam, boiling men alive inside armor. Ten thousand Iwa shinobi surged, burying the defenders under waves of earth jutsu and steel.

It was slaughter.

Kumo shinobi fought like wolves to the last man, but not one escaped. The base fell silent under smoking ruin.

Iwa looted every tool, every blade, every scroll. They found caches of chakra-conducting weapons, forged from Kumo's chakra ore mine. Roshi laughed as he melted them down to test their purity. Han, always silent, gathered crates for redistribution.

For Iwa's army, victory was intoxicating. For Onoki, far away, it was confirmation of his strategy.

--

But beneath the cheering, the cracks widened.

Ten thousand shinobi are a nightmare to maintain. Each day stretched supply lines thinner. Messengers rode constantly back to Iwa for reinforcements, but caravans couldn't keep pace. Soldiers went hungry. Medic teams rationed herbs. Morale, instead of soaring, began to rot in idleness.

Han warned: "Ten thousand is too many to move without a target. They'll turn restless."Roshi spat back: "They're tools. Tools don't complain."

But both jinchuriki felt it: Onoki's gamble was costing them more than it gave.

--

The Third Raikage read the reports from Takigakure. His thick brows drew together as he muttered, "That Onoki brat. I gave him courtesy once, and now he dares point his army at me."

The letter trembled slightly in his scarred hands: Ten thousand Iwa shinobi advancing east. This was sent one week ago. Sound base should have fallen by now. One thousand dead. But the Raikage wasn't shouting, wasn't pounding the table. His silence was heavier than rage.

Kaien, sitting cross-legged with a pacifier between his teeth, was uncharacteristically quiet. He finally pulled it free, voice low.

"Losing a thousand… it leaves a bitter taste, doesn't it, grandfather?"

Aya, his mother, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't dwell. Even with numbers, they cannot hold what they've taken. Victory without balance becomes rot."

The Raikage grunted. "Time is a weapon too."

Kaien's lips curved. "Let them rot where they stand. Two things will happen: one, without an enemy, ten thousand men will eat themselves alive. Two, That old man Onoki would never prepared supplies for that many survivors. He counted on full blown out, on bodies falling early. Now he has to feed every one of them. And hungry men are easier to kill than armed ones."

What kaien could never expect is that how brutal iwa could be to themself.

Raikage added, "Arrange five thousand to reinforce Second Base. Slow, deliberate. Let Iwa wait. Let their morale drip away like water in sand."

Renga, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward. "Raikage-sama, we must investigate Sound's state. And also we need time to gather such large force to counter. But, Iwa has already reached."

The Raikage's grin was feral. "Then I, alone, will go."

Kaien's mind was filled thoughts of how his grandfather had actually died. He wanted object. Though, he knew his grandfather had the power to decimate those 10000 Iwa shinobi. He did not want to risk his life. [A/N: The Spy reports only told there were 10000 Iwa shinobi. But there was no report of Jinchuriki. Coz no one knew how Iwa's jinchuriki looked. As Iwa made sure to pt a tight lid on the info of their jinchuuriki]

Just before... Aya and Renga objected, "Father, Even if it is you... fighting against 10000 shinobi, will cost your life" "Yes, Raikage-sama... Lady Aya is absolutely right."

As they were debating to and fro... with Raikage wanting to go and Aya and Renga objecting.

--
Back in Sound, discipline faltered. The loot of Kumo's base was rich, but food was scarce. Soldiers complained of ration-water that barely filled their stomachs. Han kept silent but glared at commanders who failed to control their squads. Roshi grew impatient, scorching deserters alive to set examples.

The tools they seized were powerful... chakra-conducting blades, sealed scrolls of lightning-based traps, armor woven with resistant metals... but tools don't fill bellies. [A/N: Refer Chapter 9: Chakra ore mine... where kumo found a mine}

Kumo has not counterattacked. No resistance. Only silence. And silence eats men faster than war.

Whispers spread: Why hasn't Raikage struck? Why do we sit here, waiting to starve?

--
Han sat by the smoldering remains of the Sound base, steam hissing from the cracks of his armor. His expression never changed, but his thoughts ran cold.

Ten thousand shinobi were too many. Onoki had never marched such a force this far before. The land could not sustain them, the supplies never enough. So Han did something unthinkable... he used his soldiers like fuel.

"Scouting," he called it. But everyone who heard the order knew better. One thousand shinobi, sent northeast and east to comb fifty kilometers. No sensors among them, deliberately excluded. Han knew how difficult it is lose a sensor now so he did not send them just yet.

"Check the terrain. Note the traps. Report or don't report... it makes no difference." His voice was as hollow as his mask.

Two days later, his grim plan bore fruit. The group sent northeast returned intact, dusty and hungry, their reports empty of enemy presence. The east scouts, however, did not return at all. Good thing.

Han's eyes narrowed. That silence was an answer. "There they are," he muttered as he looked at north east. [A/N: Han did 2 things...one... now that east scouts didn't... they were killed by 2nd base kumo shinobi. Now he knew where the kumo shinobi were. Two... now he had some food for remaining shinobi]

--
Han doubled the risk. This time, he sent two thousand shinobi east ward, the direction of Kumo's hidden Second Base. He knew the risk, but risk was preferable than to rot in one place.

They marched into a minefield of traps. Lightning tags, collapsing earthworks, camouflaged kunai launchers. Kumo had turned the valleys into killing grounds.

The cost was brutal: seven hundred Iwa shinobi dead before the first Kumo soldier was even cut down. But sheer numbers forced a breakthrough. Traps exhausted, defenders overrun.

Yet the report that followed chilled even him:

"East. Forty-five kilometers. Near the Hidden Frost border. Three thousand Kumo shinobi stationed."

Han summoned Roshi.

--

The two jinchūriki could not have been more different. Han, cold and calculating, said little. Roshi, all fire and arrogance, cracked his knuckles and laughed when he heard the numbers.

"Three thousand? Ha! Against us? Old man Onoki should've sent only the two of us."

Han ignored him. He gathered 7,000 shinobi from the remaining host. The march towards east was relentless. Forests burned down for firewood. Streams turned foul with discarded rations. Every step left scars on the land.

The 2nd base Kumo defenders at Hidden frost received word only a few hours before the Iwa juggernaut's approach. Outnumbered three to one, they knew retreat was impossible. Messages for reinforcements flew like desperate prayers, but time was too short.

When the Iwa army arrived, they faced a tired but determined 2,500 Kumo shinobi, staring down annihilation. [A/N: 2000 Iwa shinobi all died before killing only 500 kumo shinobi]

--

A/N: So, The 1st Kumo's defeat... for Redemption to be fruitful. It is needed. and Kumo doesn't know about Iwa's jinchuriki's as Kumo spies could not identify them.</a></p>

Chapter Text

Han ordered half a day of rest before the battle. His soldiers devoured what little food remained. Men slept on their armor, women sharpened kunai until sparks flew.

Roshi, on the other hand, was restless. He stomped around the camp like a caged beast.

"Han, you're wasting time! Let me go first, I'll burn them out like weeds. You keep holding men back like they're treasures."

Han's voice was cold steel. "If you burn now, you'll burn out when it matters. Wait."

Roshi spat lava onto the ground, letting it hiss. "You think too much. Me? I live to fight."

--
Dawn broke with a sky the color of blood. The Land of frost valleys echoed with war cries as Iwa surged forward. The 2500 2nd base Kumo shinobi stood their ground, lightning sparking across their ranks. Though outnumbered, they fought till their last breath.

Roshi couldn't be restrained any longer. He charged ahead, chakra surging like a volcano ready to erupt.

"Yoton: Kaen Rendan!" (Lava Release: Flame Rock Cluster!)

Molten stone rained upon Kumo's front lines, melting barricades and turning men into statues of ash. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Roshi roared in delight.

"Dance for me, Kumo! Let the world see who owns the battlefield!"

Every strike was devastating, but chakra exhaustion crept in faster than he realized. The Four-Tails' lava consumed vast reserves, and after an hour of continuous destruction, Roshi's breath came ragged.

Still, his arrogance refused to bend.

--
Han advanced slower, steam bursting from his armor like the hiss of a great forge.

"Boil Release: Unrivaled Armor."

Every step he took, Kumo shinobi wilted. His body was a walking furnace, boiling water and flesh alike. Close combat was impossible; blades bent from the heat before they touched him.

He moved with precision, never wasting a strike. But even Han, efficient as he was, felt his reserves thinning. The Boil Release burned chakra like oil in a fire. He was having a bad feeling. He wanted to end this quickly.

--
The battlefield became a hellscape. Roshi's lava carved rivers of glowing rock that split the earth itself. Han's steam rolled over formations, suffocating shinobi in scalding clouds.

Iwa fodder pressed forward, sheer numbers overwhelming.

Kumo fought like cornered beasts, lightning cloaks flaring, coordinated strikes few of them taking down dozens before they fell.

By noon, the ground was unrecognizable. Valleys turned into cauldrons of steam. Forests became lava plains. Corpses littered the soil, and the Hot Water River boiled in its banks.

--
By afternoon, both jinchūriki were faltering.

Roshi's chest heaved. His lava release sputtered, his hands trembling as molten chakra refused to mold cleanly. He cursed, forcing one last eruption that only scorched a handful of survivors.

Han's armor hissed weakly. Steam output dropped, his movements slowed. Every exhale carried the weight of exhaustion.

Their power had annihilated hundreds, but even their monstrous reserves had limits.

And the Kumo shinobi? Still fighting. Still screaming. Even as numbers dwindled, their defiance was terrifying.

--
At last, Iwa's numbers did help. Seven thousand against two thousand five hundred was not a fair fight. One by one, Kumo shinobi fell, their formations shattered.

The Second Base was destroyed. Its barracks reduced to slag, its armories stripped bare, its defenders annihilated. Few Kumo soldier survived to retreat.

But it wasn't victory without price. Roshi collapsed on the battlefield, chakra drained to embers. Han's armor steamed weakly, his body trembling from overuse.

Of Iwa's 7,000, nearly 1,500 were dead, many more maimed. The Land of frost Valley was theirs, but their strength was fraying. They are tired and consumed last of their reserves.

--
Han stood over the ruins, chest still heaving. He looked at the corpses of Kumo shinobi, blackened by lava and boiled by steam.

"Even with three thousand of them… stubborn until the last man," he muttered.

Roshi laughed weakly, leaning on his knees. "Stubborn, yes. But they burned well."

Han didn't laugh. His eyes scanned the horizon. He knew. This was too easy. If three thousand could fight like this, He did not want to finish his thought.

Even as Iwa celebrated, messengers from Land of Frost had already reached the Raikage. The trap was closing for Iwa.

And Han, though he would never admit it aloud, felt the weight of inevitability pressing down like his own boiling armor. With almost no logistics and so far from Iwa, he knew many would not make it out alive.

--

The sliding doors slammed open. A shinobi in dark flak armor stumbled into the Raikage's office, his chest heaving as though he had sprinted the whole way from the mountain outpost. His eyes were wide, pupils trembling, as if the weight of what he carried pressed against his lungs.

"Raikage-sama!" His voice cracked with the strain. "The Iwa shinobi—they've arrived at the Second Base. There are two commanders we have never seen before… and they've brought nearly Seven thousand troops." [A/N: He says they arrived because that is the information 2 days prior...he had been travelling.]

The room seemed to still for a heartbeat. Then came the crackle.

Lightning flared around the Raikage's body, his chakra cloak exploding outward in a roar of raw power. The desk in front of him shattered into splinters beneath his fists. The messenger flinched back, bowing low, but the Raikage's attention had already swung toward the man standing by his side.

"Renga!" His voice was thunder itself. "Have the five thousand reinforcements not arrived at Second Base?"

Renga, the veteran adviser, clenched his jaw. "Raikage-sama," he said, steady but tight, "it would still take a week just to dispatch them. They cannot arrive in time." "We cannot arrange such huge numbers in such short notice." [A/N: Even Iwa took a month to arrange 10K Shinobi.]

The Raikage's eyes narrowed, lightning flaring brighter. His thoughts cut faster than his chakra burned. Two unknown commanders. A sudden overwhelming force. Eight thousand shinobi. He didn't need to ask again. He already knew.

"Iwa's Jinchūriki, Why were we not informed of Iwa's jinchuriki being present." he spat.

Renga stiffened. "The reports from our spies in Hidden valley might have not identified them as we have no information of who the Iwa's jinchuuriki were."

Aya... silent until now... drew a sharp breath. Kaien, small in his corner with a pacifier biting into his teeth, felt the world drop into his stomach.

The Raikage's rage was volcanic, but beneath it Kaien could sense his realization: they had been outplayed. For years, Iwa had hidden their jinchūriki, shadows without names or faces. Even their spies... men who had slipped through the mists of Taki... had brought back nothing but information about 10000 shinobi. Now the curtain had been ripped aside, and Kumo's forces were caught under the crushing weight of surprise.

The Raikage's lightning burned hotter. The crackling light revealed his clenched jaw, the blood in his teeth. He was already raging at the thousand Kumo shinobi lost on the Iwa front, but this... this was worse. Three thousand more stationed at Second Base. The battle would have already raged for two days…

No. He couldn't even lie to himself. They were gone. Or worse... still dying.

--
A/N: Kumo's Iwa front and 2nd base are destroyed. 4000 Kumo shinobi died (1K at Iwa front + 3K at Kumo front). Next the duo arrives.

I know people want Kumo to crush those 10,000 Iwa shinobi. But with Aya and Renga refusing to let the Raikage risk his life, he was forced to stay off the battlefield.

Chapter Text

Kaien sat frozen, the pacifier jammed so hard into his mouth he thought it might split. His tiny hands trembled in his lap, nails digging crescents into his palms. He didn't dare speak.

Four thousand. That number beat in his head like a war drum. Four thousand dead.

It wasn't death itself that crushed him. He had known blood before. In his other life, Muay Thai fights had left him bruised, bones aching, nose broken more times than he could count. He'd watched men collapse unconscious, he'd seen blood splash mats, he'd smelled the copper sting of it all. He wasn't naïve to violence.

But those four thousand weren't faceless. They weren't nameless. They were Kumo shinobi...his people, even if he never saw their faces. And they were dead because of him.

His plan had been simple: let Iwa choke on their own logistics. The spy reports had been clear... or so he thought. He had gambled that patience would strangle Iwa's advance. Instead, they became more desperate.

Four thousand dead because he hadn't pushed harder. Because he hadn't told his grandfather and Uncle Bee to move when the first thousand fell at iwa front and now they made their way to 2nd base. He was pretty sure they were dead.

But... It was not my fault. If only we knew their jinchuuriki were also in battalion. It was fault of the kumo spies. They did not provide the correct information.

He gripped his mother's hand so tightly she almost winced. Aya didn't say anything. She just held him back, thumb brushing against his knuckles, her silence both a shield and a plea. She could feel his guilt radiating through every small, trembling muscle.

But Kaien didn't want her comfort. Not really. He wanted to disappear into it, to bury his shame so deep he'd never feel it again. His chest ached. His throat was locked. He wanted to be invisible, silent.

--
"KAIEN!"

The roar ripped through the office like a lightning strike. Kaien flinched so hard he almost fell from Aya's lap. His grip on Aya's hand became a desperate clutch, his pacifier biting deeper between his teeth.

The Raikage's glare bore down on him, hot and merciless.

"If you believed a war could be fought without loss," the Raikage growled, "then you have much to learn."

Kaien's lips trembled, but no words came.

"You think I do not rage for those men? That I don't feel every death as though it was my own blood? I do. But listen well, Kaien. A single failure does not end a war. If you let one mistake shatter you, then that—"pointing a finger at the boy "—is your weakness. if you thought they were just a few blocks of puzzle. Then, Let this mistake teach you they are not."

The Raikage's breath came heavy, chest heaving. But his eyes… his eyes softened. Not with mercy, but with truth.

"You won us victories... thought impossible. We crushed Konoha. We seized the chakra ore mines. We captured their jinchūriki. We killed their Hokage. You dealt a wound even the Yellow Flash could not ignore. These are not praise, Kaien. These are facts. One failure does not erase them."

Kaien blinked. His small fingers loosened, slipping from Aya's grip. His legs felt heavy as stone, but he slid from the chair and bowed low.

When he finally spoke, his voice was the fragile tone of a child, but steady.

"Now time is everything. With seven thousand shinobi and two jinchūriki, their supplies should have already burned. They'll push for one last attempt. But our uncle Ay base against Konoha will be caught between fire from the southwest and Iwa's advance from the northeast. We cannot gather shinobi fast enough to hold them."

He swallowed, clutching his pacifier again before continuing.

"We must send Grandfather and Uncle Bee. If they move now, they can halt Iwa before the line breaks. Tell Uncle Ay in Hot Water to hold his attack. Don't let him withdraw—it will raise Konoha's suspicion. Keep him ready as backup."

The words stumbled out in the lilt of a four-year-old, but the logic was sound.

The Raikage's glare eased. His cloak dimmed. He gave a single nod.

"Good," he rumbled. "You have learned. Renga—where is Bee?"

--

Renga opened his mouth, but Kaien spoke first, voice muffled around his pacifier.

"Uncle Bee is training the move I suggested."

Aya blinked at him, startled, but the Raikage just nodded once.

"Renga. Call him now. Urgency. And also ready those four."

Hours later, the office walls shook with a different kind of energy.

"Yo, bro, what's the plan, what's the show? Bee is here, don't you know—it's time to flow!"

Killer Bee swaggered in, rapping his nonsense, his swords rattling on his back. Even with the air heavy from looming war, his grin was wide, careless.

But when he heard the report, his rhythm slowed. His grin remained, but it was thinner, stretched over steel.

"Two jinchūriki… Iwa's pride, guess it's time for Bee to ride."

For all his quirks, Bee's eyes were sharp, and they gleamed with Calm. Resolve.

The Raikage stood. His lightning cloak surged to life again, brighter this time, but controlled. He looked at Bee, then at the kaien watching from Aya's arms.

"Let's move."

Bee cracked his knuckles. His body flickered, and the Eight-Tails' chakra flared around him in partial transformation, tail whipping behind him.

Renga knelt, hands already forming seals for the Heavenly Transportation Technique. Raikage and Bee appeared at his side, eyes sharp, body thrumming with anticipation.

And they are gone.

--
A/N: What is Bee training? Now with Iwa already at land of frost. They will become even desperate and make best use of the remaining shinobi as a last resort. Now, Kumo base at land of hot water will sandwiched between konoha on one side and Iwa on the other side.

Feel free to add comments both positive and negative.

Chapter Text

The first thing they noticed was the smell. Before sight, before sound...sulfur and char, thick enough to choke, rolled through the steam.

When the Raikage and Killer Bee appeared on the cliffs above the Second Base, the world beneath them looked less like a battlefield and more like the corpse of a mountain. Lava spread like rivers, orange glowing veins across blackened rock. Steam billowed in clouds so dense they blurred the horizon. The ground hissed, cracked, and shifted under its own heat.

And scattered across it all, like broken dolls abandoned by an innocent child, lay the remains of three thousand Kumo shinobi.

Bodies half-sunk into cooled magma, limbs blackened to bone. Others slumped against rocks, faces frozen in screams that never found air. Armor had fused to skin. Weapons bent into grotesque shapes by the heat.

The Raikage's chest rose and fell once. He said nothing. His cloak of lightning was absent, as though he wanted to feel the scene with nothing between him and the truth. His silence was calm.

Beside him, Bee ground his teeth until his jaw creaked. He had killed more than his share, cut down thousands, sometimes whole konoha platoons. He could live with enemies falling under his blades. But here... his people, his brothers-in-arms... slaughtered and melted to ash? His stomach twisted bitter. His rap-song heart fell silent.

They descended without a word.

--
The Iwa shinobi spotted them first as shadows in the steam. Their reaction was immediate. Shouts. Panic. A ripple of fear ran through the ranks as they realized who had appeared.

"The Raikage—!""Kumo's jinchūriki!"

Messengers scattered back through the fog. Within moments, two figures emerged from the haze: Roshi, steam hissing from his pores like a living furnace, and Han, towering in crimson armor, the very air vibrating around him from sheer physical power.

Han's voice was clipped and sharp. "Form up. Eagle Battle formation!"

The Iwa soldiers scrambled, exhaustion making their limbs sluggish but discipline forcing them into lines.

The Raikage did not activate his lightning cloak. He stepped forward bare, unarmored by chakra, his eyes set on Roshi.

Roshi lunged first, fist wreathed in molten heat. It smashed into the Raikage's jaw with enough force to split stone. The Raikage's body skidded across the ruined ground, tearing through hardened lava before rolling to a halt.

Han was already there, driving his knee into the Raikage's chest. Another thunderous blow sent the raikage flying backward again.

They were relentless. For thirty minutes straight, the two jinchūriki hammered at him, fists and kicks colliding with his body like meteors. The Raikage fell, rose, fell again. To the watching Iwa shinobi, it looked as if the strongest man alive was nothing but a toy tossed between giants.

But every time they knocked him down, he stood again. His frame unshaken. His breath unbroken.

--
At last, as Roshi swung another molten fist, the Raikage caught his wrist and slammed his forehead into the man's face.

Blood spattered. Roshi staggered, crashing through a line of trees.

The Raikage's voice was low but clear. "WeRe YoU tHe OnEs WhO dId ThIs?" He jerked his chin toward the field of corpses. Roshi's lips curled. Han shifted, answering with his body instead of words. He charged, armored fist smashing into the Raikage's chest.

The Raikage flew back again, landing on both feet this time, his body braced. Lightning flickered faintly across his shoulders.

Han grimaced. If they allowed him to fully unleash, their advantage would vanish. He gave a signal, and Roshi rose from the wreckage, his body enveloped now in the bubbling cloak of the Four-Tails.

A sphere of compressed heat and chakra swelled in Roshi's throat... Beginnings the Tailed Beast Bomb.

The Raikage's cloak roared to life in full. Lightning snapped like thunder, his body vanishing in a blur. The sphere detonated into the ground where he had stood, the explosion carving out a fresh crater of molten stone.

Han was already there, intercepting. The Raikage's fist collided with his chestplate, denting the steel inward, but Han countered with a blow to the ribs that would have killed a lesser man. The clash of titans cracked the air.

Roshi leapt back into the fray, his body leaking lava and steam, spraying molten stone in every direction. The ground itself melted, but the Raikage's cloak kept his skin untouched. Still, every movement forced raikage into a tighter corner with the land underneath melting, every strike dragging the fight toward attrition.

And he would not kill. His blows landed, but never with lethal intent.

--
On the other side of the battlefield, Killer Bee moved.

His body glowed mud brown, chakra flowing across his skin like fresh mud. This was Gyūki Chakra Mode—GCM—a new form he had forged after kaien's idea. Instead of sprouting octopus tails to smash and crush, his power condensed into control. His speed sharpened. His strength refined. His movements, once wild and unpredictable, now became a dance.

Eight blades spun around him in arcs too fast for the eye to track. Every swing cut not just flesh but formation. Iwa shinobi lunged with spears, jutsu, shuriken... but Bee slipped between them, his glowing body weaving through gaps like a death god.

A kick sent three soldiers crashing into one another. A blade reversed mid-swing and slashed behind him without looking. Wherever shinobi clustered, his hands formed seals, chakra swelling. But the effort of maintaining GCM weighed on him. He tried once... compressing the swirling maelstrom of a Tailed Beast Bomb... but the cloak faltered. The form snapped away, leaving him bare.

"Bee." Gyūki's voice rumbled in his mind. "In this new GCM form... bijudama will get destabilized. Too fine, too tight. Switch back to tails."

Bee's grin flickered, but he didn't argue. His body burst again, this time into the monstrous partial transformation. Eight massive tails erupted, thrashing. They curved inward, wrapping around one another like giant hands cupping the sphere at his mouth. The stabilizing cage glowed as chakra condensed.

With a roar, the Tailed Beast Bomb fired.

The explosion tore across the plain, vaporizing few hundreds in an instant. The shockwave threw dozens more into the air.

--
The battle stretched. Hours blurred. The sun crawled across the sky and shadows lengthened, but the clash did not cease.

Bee's breathing grew ragged. Sweat slicked his face beneath Gyūki's cloak. His eight blades were blood-stained, but he still spun them. He had killed more than he could count, his rhymes long since drowned in fatigue. Still a thousand Iwa shinobi clung to life, scattered now, fighting in desperate pockets.

The Raikage, in contrast, was tireless. Twelve hours of being battered by Han and Roshi, of dodging Tailed Beast Bombs and wading through rivers of lava, and still his breathing was steady. Still his cloak roared bright. His fists still struck with the same weight as the first blow but he never delivered a final blow. [A/N: 2 reasons... if jinchuriki is killed, tailed beast die to reform somewhere, which is not what raikage wants... This is a punishment for Han and roshi, keeping them alive to show what true terror is.]

But Han's movements had slowed. His once-blistering charges carried drag now, his breath audible even through his mask. Roshi's lava sputtered, his cloak flickering, his strikes more wild than sharp.

They had cornered the Raikage for half a day, but never broken him. And now, their own stamina cracked before him. The ground was scarred beyond recognition. Rivers of lava hardened and cracked. Craters littered the earth. Corpses lay everywhere...Kumo, Iwa, nameless soldiers swallowed by a war too large for them.

And through it all, two battles raged: one man against two monsters, and one jinchūriki against an army.

--
A/N: GCM is similar to KCM naruto but GCM can't sense negative emotions like KCM. GCM form will have other skills Bee has to yet master.

GCM 1st form -> Killer Bee's strength, durability, endurance, reflexes, reaction speed are enhanced. But cannot perform Bijudama.
Tails -> Stabilizes bijudama but other stats back to normal.
Do comments your thoughts. Waiting for what you guys think?

Chapter Text

Bee didn't chase after those hundreds of shinobi. Instead, he staggered back towards Raikage, his brown cloak flickering weakly before dissolving altogether. His shoulders dripped with sweat. His blades, usually whirling in rhythm, now dragged slightly when he sheathed them.

Raikage's eyes flicked toward him without slowing his fists. "How are your chakra reserves?"

Bee panted, then forced a crooked grin. "I'm down to forty percent, yo… need six hours, full rest, to get back on top, that's the best."

Raikage grunted. "Good. Then you go rest. I'll take ca—"

But his words cut short. Han had seen the opening. He drove forward, armored fist crashing into the Raikage's ribs. At the same time, Roshi... cloak bubbling and flaring... screamed, "I will murder you!" and swung a molten kick.

The double impact sent the Raikage tumbling across cracked earth, rolling through molten trenches. Dust and ash exploded into the air. For an instant, even the Iwa shinobi watching from the distance thought perhaps the Kage had finally been broken.

Then a shadow surged from the smoke.

The Raikage stood, brushing dust from his shoulder, his eyes glowing like burning coals. Lightning snapped louder around him. His lip curled into the faintest smirk.

"You little pups bark a lot. Do you know how hard I've had to hold back… not to kill you by mistake?"

--
And then, everything changed. The Raikage, who had fought defensively for twelve hours, now wanted try his new style he used against hiruzen. His stance lowered. Elbows tucked in. His steps became sharper, pivots precise.

Han frowned. This wasn't the reckless brawler he'd been trading blows with. This was… something else.

The Raikage blurred forward, lightning cloak flaring. Instead of a wild punch, his knee shot upward, cracking into Han's chin with the precision of a trained striker. Han's massive body lifted clean off the ground before slamming back down.

Roshi tried to counter with a molten sweep. The Raikage stepped inside, clinched his neck, and drove an elbow into his temple. Lava splattered uselessly against the lightning cloak. Roshi staggered. Another knee drove into his gut, folding him over.

This wasn't the Raikage's old style. This was Muay Thai... every strike condensed, sharpened, brutal. Elbows like blades, knees like hammers, clinches that broke ribs instead of grapples.

And he was smiling, faintly. In the middle of a battlefield, while perfecting an art.

Six Hours passed

The sky had shifted to dull gray by the time Bee returned, his chakra fully replenished. He flexed his shoulders, a grin returning to his face, his exhaustion gone.

"Raikage-sama," he called, his voice steady, "I'm back to full power!"

The Raikage stood at the center of a crater, his cloak still roaring, though his breath was slightly heavier now. Even he could not deny fatigue after thirteen relentless hours.

"Good," he rumbled. "I guess it's time. The Four-Tails is loud. Talks too much. You take him. Start."

Bee nodded. From his back, he unsealed four scrolls. With a puff of smoke, the legendary Rikudō Sennin's tools appeared.

Bashōsen, the Banana Palm Fan, gleaming with elemental fury.

Kōkinjō, the golden rope, shimmering faintly.

Shichiseiken, the seven-starred sword, its kanji faintly glowing.

Benihisago, the crimson gourd, humming with sealing power.

Bee's eight tails sprouted, each one gripping a weapon with eerie precision. Four tails balanced the tools. Four held his swords. His human hands grasped another two. It was a grotesque dance of steel and chakra.

--
Roshi, blood dripping from his lips, staggered upright. His cloak still flickered, but it was frayed, unstable. His chakra was nearly spent. But his rage hadn't dimmed.

Bee's grin widened. Perfect. One tail flicked. The Kōkinjō shot out, golden rope wrapping around Roshi's midsection with impossible speed. Another tail guided the Shichiseiken, its blade cut the soul, glowing kanji forming on the back of Shichiseiken.

The word appeared: MURDER.

His voice was hoarse, cracked from screaming. "I will murder you. I'll burn you alive, Raikage! You and your whole damned village!"

Roshi's eyes widened. His scream cut short as realization dawned. His own words had betrayed him.

"Benihisago," Bee muttered, voice grim for once.

The crimson gourd glowed. In an instant, Roshi's body twisted, his chakra sucked away, drawn screaming into the seal. His cloak collapsed, his roar fading into silence.

When it ended, the gourd sat silent. Heavy.

The battlefield froze. Iwa shinobi stared in disbelief as one of their jinchūriki... one of their strongest weapons... was gone in seconds, undone by his own fury.

Bee exhaled calmly. "One down."

--
Han stood rooted. His armor hissed from the heat of Roshi's last cloak. His breath rasped inside his mask.

He had planned to escape. He'd known their chakra reserves were nearly gone. He'd thought: if Roshi distracted the Raikage, he might slip away, regroup, live to fight again.

But Roshi was gone. Just… sealed, like nothing.

His fists clenched. He wanted to scream, to charge, to avenge. But part of him... the cold, calculating shinobi... knew. He would not win. Not against the Raikage, not against Bee with those tools.

Still, honor demanded he fight.

--
Han roared, his chakra cloak sputtering to life again, though faint. He charged, fists glowing with boiling chakra.

The Raikage met him head-on. This time, he did not hold back.

Their fists collided with the force which could shatter a small mountain. Han staggered back, coughing blood. Another elbow drove into his ribs... crack. A knee shattered his armor. A clinch dragged him down. Lightning surged with every strike.

It wasn't just Muay Thai anymore. It was Raikage's Muay Thai, perfected through pain. Every blow carried the precision of Kaien's art and the devastation of his lightning speed.

Han fell, rose, fell again. His mask cracked. His cloak sputtered. Finally, a final blow... a spinning elbow crashing into his jaw... sent him crashing into the earth, unmoving.

The battlefield went silent.

--
The Raikage stood tall, chest heaving. His cloak flickered but did not fade. Bee walked up beside him, the crimson gourd hanging heavy from his tail, the other tools slowly being resealed onto scrolls.

"Two jinchūriki," Bee said quietly. "Ten thousand shinobi. And we still stand. Nothin' stoppin' our way yo."

The Raikage looked out across the steam-filled wasteland. His eyes narrowed, not in triumph but in resolve. "This is war. And war takes. But Kumo does not bow. Not to Iwa. Not to anyone. I have avenged our fallen men..."

"I will perfect this style," he muttered to himself. "A way to strike harder. A way to carry this village further." His elbow twitched, a faint smile playing at his lips. Muay Thai will be reborn under his hands and our men shall train this taijutsu style.

Bee, sensing the thought, only grinned, his rhymes already forming. "Yo, Raikage, we stole the show. Two beasts down, time to let Iwa know."

As they were talking, the unconscious Han's finger twitched.

--
A/N: Roshi sealed but Han is not completely down.

Chapter Text

Han fell unconscious again just as his hand twitched, The Raikage rattled his brain so hard, he was in a suspended state.

Bee's swords clinked back into their sheaths, his eight tails swaying behind him. Four tails sealed inside the sacred treasure...the Bashōsen's great fan, the Shichiseiken gleaming with ancient weight, the Kōkinjō rope pulsing faintly, and the ominous Benihisago gourd humming with sealing chakra.

"Raikage-sama, I wanna test somethin'," Bee said in his usual rhyming cadence but his voice unusually firm. He stepped toward Han, who lay sprawled in the churned mud. The battlefield stank of sulfur and charred flesh, steam rising in hot sheets from the broken earth. Han's chest heaved in shallow, ragged breaths. His armor was cracked open, his chakra flickering like a dying ember.

Bee extended one tail, glowing yellow, the Kōkinjō rope unraveling as if eager to taste a soul. With a precise strike, the rope touched Han's chest. A ripple passed through the jinchūriki, and then... like mist tugged from water... Han's soul shimmered free of his body, pale and half-formed.

The Shichiseiken descended in the grip of another tail, cutting across the intangible figure. A clean slice. Bee's eyes darted immediately to the blade's surface, expecting the kanji of Han's final word to etch itself across its divine steel. He expected with Han not able to speak... he should be sealed in a while for not speaking.

Nothing. The sword remained blank.

Bee frowned. "...Haa. It seems if the opponent's out cold, the word doesn't appear. No trigger, no sealing. yo'"

The Raikage, arms folded, his cloak of lightning dimmed but still crackling faintly, studied carefully. "Or perhaps the Five-Tails' jinchūriki never had a word to repeat. Silent men are dangerous. That silence might've saved him."

"Maybe. But I'll confirm." Bee turned, tails swaying. He sprinted toward the edge of the steaming crater, where a scattering of Iwa survivors clung to rocks and scorched trees. He closed the gap on a jōnin before the man could react, landing a restrained punch to the jaw. The shinobi crumpled, unconscious before hitting the ground.

Bee repeated the process. Kōkinjō glowed, tugging the man's soul. Shichiseiken cut it. Still no word. Still no reaction from the Benihisago.

Bee exhaled slowly, testing his theory complete. "Yeah. Won't work on the unconscious. Needs the voice, the will, the fight."

Behind them, Han's limp body twitched. The soul, unanchored but not captured, had slid back into its vessel. His eyes fluttered. His breathing steadied. Consciousness returned, though he did not stir enough to draw attention. Lying perfectly still, Han listened... not wanting to attract any attention. He noticed Bee using those weird tools against his men and it doesn't seem to work on the unconscious.

--
It began with a rumble of feet, a shifting in the steam. The ground quivered from numbers. The last 1000 Iwa shinobi, scattered in panic from bee earlier, had regrouped under their surviving commanders. Their faces were hollow with fatigue, burns still fresh on their bodies, but they carried steel in their eyes. They would not leave their jinchuuriki behind. He was captured Hidden stone will fall. We can't let that happen.

"Retrieve him!" one commander barked, voice hoarse. "Even if we die, Han-sama must return to Iwa!"

The wave surged forward, 1000 against two.

The Raikage cracked his knuckles. His jaw tightened but his eyes held a calm storm. "Bee. Stand with me."

Bee smirked grimly, weighed his limbs. "Yo, yo... no retreat, just beat, I'll keep my feet!"

They braced back-to-back.

The first salvo of earth spears and molten stones came hurling through the steam. The Raikage's body blurred. His new hybrid style of Muay Thai and lightning armor flowed as one... knees like thunder, elbows like blades, fists like hammers. He crashed through enemy lines, shattering earth techniques, caving in chests. Every strike had been honed in twelve hours of grueling restraint against jinchūriki. Now unleashed, it was art in motion.

Bee darted into the fray, eight tails lashing, four swords flashing like silver rain. The Rikudo treasures struck alongside him... the Bashōsen gusting flames that toppled formations, the Kōkinjō snaring souls only for the Shichiseiken to test their voices. Most fell before it could even matter, cut down by blade or tentacle. Some were sealed back after having stayed silent for too long.

--
The clash lasted less than an hour. Thousand shinobi who had survived, now fell like wheat under the duo.

The Raikage was merciless but precise, not wasting chakra on his higher techniques. His style had refined; his kicks flowed into sweeps, his punches into lightning-charged grapples that slammed men into the earth with bone-breaking force. His forearms glowed like battering rams, shattering weapons on impact.

Bee's swords danced in maddening rhythms, impossible to predict, cutting through clusters of shinobi like flowing water. His tails wrapped, smashed, and flung enemies aside. His eyes remained locked on The Raikage's side, making sure the battlefield stayed balanced.

Within the chaos, they painted devastation. Bodies fell, weapons shattered, morale crumbled. By the end, the battlefield was silent save for the hiss of lava cooling in the distance.

--
"Not a damn one left standing," Bee muttered, staring at the broken ground. "They kept comin', Raikage-sama… but we cut 'em down."

The Raikage didn't answer immediately. His gaze swept the field, then up, to the wall of steam that still billowed over a full kilometer in every direction. Visibility was nearly zero, thick as a shroud.

And then it struck him. His eyes widened.

"No…" His voice cracked the silence. He bellowed, shaking the ground. "NOOOO!"

He understood where this steam was coming from. He roared, lightning exploding off his body, surging outward to disperse the steam, but the fog clung stubbornly. He swept arms, clapped palms, shattered trees, but it lingered like a curse.

Because such a huge steam could have only been produced by The Five-tails jinchuuriki.

--
A/N: The opponent needs to be conscious for the word to appear on Shichiseiken. This limitation is not canon, I have added this. I wondered what would happen to a shinobi who is mute, the word should logically not appear. So, I thought it makes sense, if they are in condition of not being able to speak. Like being in sleep or unconscious.

Do let me know your thoughts.

Chapter Text

<15 minutes earlier>

Lying motionless through the slaughter of his comrades had bought him time. Listening to Bee's experiment had given him knowledge. And now, as the Raikage and Bee were distracted themselves finishing the Iwa army, Han pulled himself upright. His chakra was nearly gone, but jinchūriki are not ordinary shinobi. The Five-Tails' essence burned faint, enough for one last move.

Boil Release: Vanishing Mist Burial (沸遁・消蒸の墓, Futton: Shōjō no Haka)

Han pressed his palms to the ground. The heat beneath the earth answered. Lava veins pulsed, and thick white steam surged higher, feeding the blanket around them.

Not to kill or fight. But to escape.

"Iwa will not lose another jinchūriki today," Han whispered under his breath, voice swallowed by the fog.

With every scrap of chakra left, he masked his retreat. Step by agonizing step, body broken but will unyielding, he slipped away into the white curtain.

--
Raikage's roars echoed, tearing through the steam. His lightning cloak blazed, but he could not find Han's body. Bee's tails thrashed. But they knew.

The silence of the field told them.

Han had survived. He escaped.

The corpses of 10000 Iwa shinobi littered the earth, alongside 3000 Kumogakure comrades melted days prior. Victory meant nothing.

Raikage stood tall, but his face was stone, unreadable. Inside, his fury boiled. He had fought 18 hours against two jinchūriki, endured the deaths of thousands of his shinobi, and in the end, allowed one of Iwa's greatest weapons to slip through his fingers.

--
Bee's eight tails still twitched restlessly, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths as he strained his senses one last time. But no matter how he reached for the faint traces of chakra, Han's signature had vanished into the vastness of the steam.

"Five-Tails… gone," Bee muttered under his breath, his voice low, almost bitter. He clenched his fists, glancing at Raikage, who stood motionless.

The Raikage's shoulders trembled, the muscles in his neck rigid. For a moment it seemed like he might remain silent, holding it in, but then his cloak of lightning flared and he erupted into violence.

With a guttural roar, he leapt skyward, landing 700 hundred feet away from Bee, with an impact that cratered the ground. His rage thundered. Trees splintered into dust, rocks shattered into rubble, the very earth cracked and heaved under his fists. He pounded the ground, tore through stone, and sent shockwaves of destruction in every direction.

For thirty minutes, he raged like a beast untethered, lightning tearing through the fog of steam, striking at ghosts and shadows.

Bee watched, unmoving. Part of him wondered if he should step in... calm him, speak to him... but he knew better. To interrupt the Raikage's wrath was to stand against a lightning storm barehanded. So he waited, watching him thrash against the shame of letting Han escape.

Finally, the Raikage's movements slowed. His cloak dimmed, though faint arcs still licked his shoulders. He stood amidst the ruins, chest heaving, fists clenched. His jaw was tight, his teeth grinding audibly.

"We will let the Five-Tails jinchūriki go," he said at last, his voice low. "We move to Hot Water. Ay has held the line long enough. It's time to end this war."

Bee nodded, though unease gnawed at him. He asked, "Raikage-sama… what is the seal on your back? I haven't seen it before. What is it?"

The Raikage glanced at him, with a grim smile on his lips. "You'll see what it is in the next battle."

No more words. The two titans turned, cutting through the broken land toward Hot Water.

--

Young Ay had not had a moment of respite in a week. His armor was torn, his fists bloodied, his body aching. But worse than the physical toll was the constant mental strain.

Konoha was pressing harder than ever. The Ino-Shika-Cho formation rotated flawlessly, their teamwork strangling Kumo's larger numbers. Genjutsu from the Uchiha cast doubt and hesitation into every skirmish, illusions flickering between friend and foe. Kumo shinobi had numbers... around 1000 left to fight with no reinforcements from 2nd base... but against Konoha's 1500, bolstered by sheer persistence, it wasn't enough.

A week before, the ground itself trembled, as though some great explosion had rocked the interior of Land of frost. The men whispered in fear, wondering if their comrades at the Second Base had fallen. Young Ay gave them no room to falter.

But the worst pressure came from one man: Uchiha Fugaku.

Commander of Konoha's push, Fugaku stood tall with his 3T Sharingan spinning. Every motion he made seemed precise, decisive. Every genjutsu he wove found its way into Kumo ranks, scattering squads and breaking formations.

And now he stood before young Ay.

Ay squared his shoulders, muscles taut. He could feel the weight of command pressing down on him. His father was far from here, fighting somewhere else. His brother' Bee was not at his side. If he fell, Kumo's line here would shatter.

Across from him, Fugaku's eyes gleamed red in the half-light of fire and smoke. The Uchiha commander raised a hand, his voice calm but commanding.

"Ay… surrender. Your forces are scattered, your numbers dwindling. You will not win this battle."

Ay spat to the side, lightning flickering faintly across his fists. "You think Kumo will surrender to konoha? Never..."

And then he charged.

The ground cracked under his dash, his body a blur of raw speed. He threw a fist aimed straight for Fugaku's chest.

Fugaku thought his was fast. He sidestepped with him always tracking young Ay with his Sharingan. But he still got a scratch. His hands weaving through seals, fire bursting into being. A wall of flame surged up, but young Ay plowed through it, the heat scorching his skin but failing to halt his advance. He swung again, forcing Fugaku to leap back.

young Ay pressed hard. He knew genjutsu was his weakness here. He couldn't meet Fugaku's gaze. He fought with his eyes half-averted, relying on peripheral vision and the flickers of chakra in his opponent's form.

But fighting blind against a master was like walking a blade's edge.

--
A/N: Explanation 👇

1. Kumo's morale was hit from the past week with the constant explosion from Bee, Han, Roshi... The thought of there will no reinforcement put kumo at the edge...

2. Konoha [Uchiha Fugaku] noticing the explosion inside kumo... pressed kumo further.

3. Fugaku is a natural counter for young Ay. He is facing difficulty fighting him... and the explosion and wanting to know what is happening in the 2nd base is getting him. He received the message saying to hold the attack and be on standby, konoha gave them no breather.

Feel free to comment your thoughts.

Chapter Text

Fugaku countered Ay's raw aggression with precision. Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu (Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique) erupted from his mouth, great spheres of flame that Ay narrowly dodged. Not giving Ay any time he made an another jutsu Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu (Fire Release: Phoenix Flower Technique) scattered burning embers across the field, forcing Ay to weave between explosions. And with every motion, Fugaku's Sharingan glinted, probing for an opening to pull Ay into a trap of genjutsu.

Ay's fists tore through trees, shattered rocks, split earth but Fugaku danced away, always one step ahead, his body moving with eerie foresight.

"Your fists are fast," Fugaku admitted, his tone calm. But his thoughts beg to differ [If I am not careful, a solid hit could end me. Good thing, I didn't bring Itachi.]

Ay grunted, forcing himself to ignore the taunt. He ducked low, sweeping his leg to smash Fugaku off balance. Fugaku leapt, landing lightly, and Ay surged up with a spinning elbow that barely grazed him. Sparks flew from the clash, Fugaku's armor singed.

But then Fugaku's Sharingan caught Ay's gaze for a fraction of a second. (Sharingan: Illusion Technique) flickered.

The world wavered. For an instant Ay saw his comrades collapsing around him, Kumo shinobi screaming in fire. His heart lurched, his body hesitated.

And Fugaku's kunai aimed to slice his throat but he broke the genjutsu by hurting himself but instead his arm had a slice.

Ay staggered back, blinking, gritting his teeth. Blood trickled down his arm, but he forced his chakra to flare.

Kumo was losing ground inch by inch, their morale battered. Every eye on the field flicked toward the duel between Ay and Fugaku, knowing its outcome could decide the tide.

Ay lunged again, fists like hammers, blows landing hard enough to crater the ground. Fugaku countered with Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu (Fire Release: Dragon Fire Technique) and shuriken infused with flame, his movements graceful, his Sharingan tracking every twitch of Ay's muscles.

But even Fugaku felt the weight of the clash. Ay's speed, though rough, was monstrous. Every strike forced him to the edge of evasion. One mistake, and the Ay would break him and he was getting tired of always avoiding fatal blows.

Still, Fugaku pressed, layering genjutsu between his strikes. A flicker of shadow here, a phantom kunai there, illusions meant to chip at Ay's focus, to wear him down. Katon: Makyōka no Jutsu (Fire Release: Demon Fire Technique)

And Ay… Ay fought with sheer stubborn will. He refused to falter. He refused to bow. Not to Konoha.

The fight dragged on, sweat dripping from both warriors. Ay's muscles screamed, his body aching from burns and cuts. Fugaku's breath quickened, his chakra taxed by constant fire techniques and genjutsu.

Finally, Fugaku made his move. His hands flashed through seals, his lungs expanded and a torrent of fire erupted, a roaring inferno that swept across the battlefield. Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu (Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique) intensified.

Ay raised his arms, lightning flaring across his body, Raiton: Hiraishin (Lightning Release: Thunder Crash). The flames engulfed him, the heat unbearable, but he forced his way through, emerging like a thunderbolt.

His fist connected. The ground exploded. Fugaku staggered back, blood on his lips, armor cracked.

For a moment, silence fell. Both sides froze, watching.

Ay stood panting, smoke rising from his body, fists still clenched. Fugaku wiped the blood from his mouth, his Sharingan blazing brighter than ever.

"This battle isn't yours to win," Fugaku said softly. But his eyes betrayed respect.

--
The other side, another battle raged. Konoha pressed their advantage, the Ino-Shika-Cho formation but Kumo withstood. Inoichi Yamanaka and Chōza Akimichi weren't just leading their squads... they were carving through the Kumo lines with perfect coordination. The classic Ino–Shika–Chō formation.

Dodai, the vice-commander of Kumo, had been holding the center for hours. He was sweating, panting, and yet his mind remained razor sharp. He knew he wasn't as physically overwhelming as Chōza or as elusive as Inoichi, but his strength had always been in tactics.

Yoton: Nenten no Jutsu (Lava Release: Elastic Shield)

Which let him redirect blows, his rubber nature chakra flexing like armor. He used it to slow momentum, redirect power, and smother enemy advances.

Chōza's booming steps thundered closer. His arm expanded grotesquely into a giant club of flesh and muscle with Baika no Jutsu (Multi-Size Technique). He swung down with enough force to split the earth, but Dodai curled instantly into a perfect rubber sphere with Kaidan no Bōgyo (Rubber Dome Defense), absorbing the impact with an elastic bounce. The ball ricocheted backwards, smashing through trees as Dodai rolled himself away from the crushing force.

"Inoichi!" Chōza barked, chasing the bouncing rubber ball.

Inoichi's pale eyes followed the arc. His voice was calm, commanding. "Don't let him retreat. Cut off his options."

Dodai heard it. He could practically feel Inoichi's mind mapping the battlefield, tracing every escape line he had left. His rubber ball smashed into a rock wall and rebounded, spinning fast, but Dodai felt the net tightening around him. Konoha's formation wasn't just physical... it was psychological. They suffocated you until panic did the rest.

For a moment, Dodai considered standing his ground. But if he burned his chakra here, he'd collapse before the day's end. He needed something unexpected. Something new.

And then he saw him from the hole of the rubber ball.

Across the chaos, a shinobi with ash-gray hair and flak jacket scorched black stood. Every motion carried heat and pressure. His hands sparked explosions that ripped through Konoha squads, scattering them like toys. Unlike most Kumo shinobi, his style wasn't speed or brute force... it was explosion control.

Bakuton: Jibaku Hō (Explosion Release: Blasting Cannon) roared from his palms in precise bursts, detonations that sent enemies flying without leaving openings.

Dodai narrowed his eyes. He is from the Hibaku clan known for their Explosion Release. Once they had been Iwa's shinobi, a volatile family. They had never fit comfortably in Iwa's rigid hierarchy. Too dangerous. Too independent.

--
A/N: I have added some new OC and some minor clans for flavor. Young Ay is struggling and injured. Dodai is getting mid-diffed by inoichi and choza.

Chapter Text

During the Second Great Ninja War, everything changed. A power struggle inside Iwa's leadership turned bloody. The Hibaku clan had split... half loyal to Iwa, half disillusioned. The disillusioned ones fled, hunted like dogs. Kumo had picked up some of the survivors, not out of kindness, but utility. Bakuton (Explosion Release) was rare, and Kumo never said no to any Kekkei Genkai users.

That was fifteen years ago. Fifteen years of suspicion. Fifteen years of Kumo shinobi calling them "defector" under their breath. Fifteen years of proving, again and again, that he belonged.

Now Dodai's sharp eyes locked onto him. This wasn't chance. This was opportunity.

As Chōza Akimichi barreled after him, Dodai bounced his Atsugai no Jutsu (Rubber Defense Ball) away, zigzagging until he smashed through the front lines and uncurled right in front of Sango. He stood tall, chest heaving, mind whirring.

"Tell me your name," Dodai demanded. His voice was not kind... it was commanding, precise.

Sango stiffened. His hands were bruised with residual sparks from his last detonation. "Dodai-sama… I am Sango Hibaku, of the Hibaku clan."

"Your specialty. Your rank," Dodai pressed, not wasting a heartbeat.

Sango swallowed, his throat dry. He knew what this meant. For fifteen years, no vice-commander of Kumo had ever called on him by name. Not like this.

"I am jōnin-level," he said finally, voice steady. "I wield Bakuton: Jibaku Hakai (Explosion Release: Implosive Destruction). And… I am a sensor."

Dodai's lips curled into the faintest smile. His mind calculated in seconds. A sensor. Of course. That was the missing piece. He'd been fighting blind against Inoichi, a sensory specialist. With his own sensor, they could hold for a little longer... though he didn't believe him to be at the Inoichi level. And Bakuton... the raw destructive force... paired with Dodai's precision tactics... This might work.

"I will use you well," Dodai said bluntly, turning his body toward the advancing Konoha squads. His tone was flat, but Sango felt the weight behind it. It wasn't insult... it was acknowledgment. The first he'd ever truly received.

Dodai's voice dropped lower, sharp as a blade. "So here is the plan."

--
As Dodai outlined the strategy, Sango's thoughts flickered back. Back to Iwa, to the night his clan splintered. He had been just a boy when the decision was made...flee or die. His uncle had pleaded his other clan members that they could never be free under Ōnoki's rule. His father had hesitated, torn between duty and pride. In the end, they fled, and the Hibaku name was blacklisted in Iwa.

The Hibaku who stayed were branded as tools and were treated worse than cattle, and the Hibaku who left were branded as traitors. There was no victory, only survival.

When Kumo took them in, it was under strict conditions. No clan compound. No leadership roles. Their bloodline was both feared and exploited. Every mission Sango took was shadowed by Kumo eyes, measuring whether his loyalty was real or just temporary. He had never been trusted with command. Never been asked his name like it mattered.

Until now.

Dodai didn't see him as a defector. Dodai saw him as someone who could be useful. For Sango, that was enough.

--
Chōza's massive shadow loomed, his expanded fist crashing down again with Baika no Jutsu (Partial Expansion Technique). Dodai barked orders in rapid-fire precision.

"Sango, left flank, disrupt spacing with controlled blasts! Don't aim to kill... aim to scatter! Force them out of formation!"

Sango's hands blurred into seals. "Bakuton: Hōkai Dan (Explosion Release: Collapse Bomb)!" Explosive chakra surged and compacted in his palms before detonating outward in precise bursts. The ground shook, but the explosions weren't wild... they were precise. Konoha shinobi were blasted sideways, stumbling, gaps opening in their careful grid which gave opportunities for Kumo.

Yamanaka Inoichi's eyes widened. He hadn't anticipated this.

Dodai stretched his rubber into massive bands with Gomu Nawa no Jutsu (Rubber Rope Technique), snapping forward like whips to entangle the scattered shinobi. Every time Chōza tried to barrel through, Dodai redirected his momentum with elastic force, using his bulk against him.

"Sensor sweep!" Dodai shouted.

Sango closed his eyes mid-motion, activating his sensory jutsu, Chakra Tenkai (Chakra Perception Technique). He felt the chakra signatures through the haze of dust and smoke. He called out coordinates, guiding Dodai's movements. For the first time, Dodai wasn't fighting blind against Inoichi's coordination.

--
As explosions bloomed and rubber whips cracked, Sango's chest tightened. He wasn't fighting as a nobody anymore.

And yet, he knew what this meant. Dodai-sama had given him a chance...but one chance was all there would be. If he faltered, if he hesitated, he'd go back to being the outsider no one trusted.

So he didn't falter. Though, few Bakuton detonation were missed. Though, few sensory calls were tad bit slow. Sweat poured down his back, but he kept moving, kept detonating. He was not used to such fast paced battles.

Chōza's colossal arms came down again, the air itself trembling with each swing of Baika no Jutsu. Every strike threatened to flatten Dodai where he stood.

Dodai flicked his hands into seals, exhaling, "Gomu Tate (Rubber Shield)!" Thick slabs of elastic rubber burst outward, catching Chōza's fist. But the sheer force sent him skidding across the dirt. The barrier rippled and cracked, elasticity struggling against mass.

Sango shouted, chakra senses flaring. "Two chakra sources closing from your right flank... fast!"

Dodai pivoted instantly, extending a rubber lash with Gomu Nawa no Jutsu (Rubber Rope Technique). He caught one Konoha chunin mid-charge and slammed him into the dirt, while Sango's "Bakuton: Shōgekiha (Explosion Release: Shockwave Burst)!" detonated close enough to scatter the second without killing him.

The Konoha formation shuddered. For a moment, Inoichi's control wavered.

Dodai's eyes narrowed. "Good. Keep disrupting their rhythm, Sango. Don't give them room to breathe."

--
Chōza roared, charging again, both hands massive and swinging. Dodai reacted with a new idea... an attempt to stick the rubber to the hand, which would render physical strength ineffective...stretching rubber strands between his palms and hurling them forward. Gomu Hari no Jutsu (Rubber Tether) latched onto one of Chōza's arms. He whipped another tether at the second arm, intent on binding them together.

For half a second, it looked like it might work. The rubber cords clung, stretching taut under the giant's strength. But the next instant... SNAP! The sheer mass tore through the elastic, flinging fragments of chakra-infused rubber into the dirt.

"Tch. Too brittle," Dodai muttered, rolling aside as the giant fist carved a trench into the earth. "I need thicker density… higher elasticity." He was already recalculating.

Sango detonated a quick Bakuton: Hōkai Dan (Collapse Bomb) near Chōza's ankle, forcing the Akimichi to stumble just enough for Dodai to slip away.

"Keep him off balance!" Dodai barked. "I only need one clean approach."

--
A/N: Dodai is experimenting with the elasticity of the rubber and stickiness. With sango's assistance, it is a stalemate. But, the battle is far from over. The stickiness could turn the tide of the battle... just imagine choza's 2 hands are stuck with sticky, elastic rubber... physical strength will not matter... it will stretch along the direction of force... Choza still has Multi-Size Technique but it is deadly for both konoha and kumo.

From next chapter: konoha (minato & Hyuga) vs suna

Chapter Text

On the ridge behind the clash, Inoichi's fingers twitched, his concentration locked. He was preparing Shintenshin no Jutsu (Mind Transfer Technique), aiming to seize Dodai's body. Dodai knew it... he'd seen the subtle positioning before. That was his true target.

If he let Inoichi land even once, it was over.

Sango's chakra sense flared a bit slow again. "Dodai-sama! Yamanaka's chakra surge... he's trying something!"

He feinted toward Chōza, rubber body bouncing back from a strike, and hurled himself sideways with Gomu Shunshin (Rubber Body Flicker), snapping across the battlefield toward Inoichi.

But Inoichi wasn't unguarded. Konoha shinobi closed ranks, steel flashing.

Sango's hands slammed together. "Bakuton: Shōgekiha!" A controlled explosion tore the ground beneath them, scattering the konoha shinobi just enough. Dodai broke through the gap, closing distance fast.

Inoichi's eyes widened, hand seal half-formed.

Dodai's arm stretched, rubber lashing forward. Gomu Kōsen (Rubber Beam Bind) shot like a whip toward Inoichi's wrist... if he could restrain his hands, the jutsu would fail.

But Chōza bellowed from behind, swinging a massive arm like a wrecking ball. The strike nearly leveled the entire line. Dodai barely pulled back in time, his whip severed.

Dodai skidded away, teeth clenched. He was experimenting mid-fight, every failed tether or shield teaching him more about how far he could push his elasticity. Greater the elasticity, Greater it would stretch. If Choza both hands are tied, it is no longer a matter of strength.

Every precise detonation disrupted Konoha's rhythm. Inoichi's coordination with Choza faltered again and again, and Dodai pressed harder each time. But, Choza was already intercepting.

It wasn't victory yet.

xxxxxxxxxxx

<1 Week Earlier>

Somewhere near hidden valley village

The eastern flank of the battlefield was a storm of movement, steel, and subtle death. The sun had risen high, casting harsh light on the dust and smoke that swirled from the front lines. Konoha's forces had set up defensive positions: Hyuga and Aburame clans, led by Hiashi and Hizashi for the Hyuga, and Shibi Aburame... the Aburame clan leader, were stationed to intercept the Suna advance. Konoha and suna shinobi lined the edges, ready to assist, but their inexperience was apparent.

Across the field, Suna had committed everything. Chiyo, the master puppeteer, and Pakura, the scorching force of Sand's Shakuton Release, advanced in tandem. Chiyo's long-range strategy had her puppets fanning out, ten strings invisible to most but visible to Hyuga via Byakugan. Each puppet's hand, blade, or projectile could spring into motion with deadly precision. Pakura followed behind, leaving trails of scorched earth with Shakuton: Gōryūka (Scorching Dragon Fire) and Shakuton: Kaen Renzoku (Flame Chain Assault), flattening konoha shinobi in bursts. She didn't care for the Konoha commanders, flattening konoha's low level shinobi is going to be an advantage in the long run.

Hizashi was the first to move forward, a stark contrast to the long-range puppeteer. His strength lay in close- and mid-range combat, in the precision of Byakugan strikes. He weaved through the oncoming puppet assaults, dodging razor-sharp strings, and reached forward with Gentle Fist: Hakke Rokujūyon Shō (64 Palms), aiming for Chiyo's pressure points. But each time he closed the distance, hundreds of puppet projectiles... mechanical darts, tiny blades, and concealed poison needles... spun and flew in arcs that forced him back.

Chiyo's voice crackled through enough for Konoha to hear, calm but sharp: "Why is Tsunade not here? Not bringing Tsunade could be costly for konoha. In the last war, she gave me quite a hard time."

The words hung in the air as her puppets danced forward, each move calculated. Every puppet she controlled was a weapon, but also a distraction. She wasn't just attacking the Hyuga... she was probing, testing their coordination, and covering Pakura's advance.

Hiashi was already targeting Pakura. He moved like a shadow across the battlefield, flitting between fallen Konoha shinobi, his Byakugan sweeping the field. He could see Pakura's chakra, could predict the flow of her Shakuton: Kaen Renzoku, and tagged her with precise Gentle Fist: Hakke Hyakunijūhachi Shō (128 Palms) strikes aimed at destabilizing her. Pakura staggered, her flames faltering for a moment, and the scorched earth around her slowed as she recalibrated her strikes.

Meanwhile, Shibi Aburame, weaving his own insects in intricate patterns, moved to contain Chiyo's puppets. Swarms of Kikaichū struck at the puppet strings, trying to sever them or entangle them, but Chiyo anticipated this. With a flick of her wrist, she triggered Ningendō: Doku Hari (Puppet Technique: Poison Needle Barrage). Tiny, hidden needles shot from the puppets in arcs designed to bypass the insects' defenses. A few of the Aburame clan's lower-level ninja fell instantly, writhing from the poison, forcing the rest to retreat.

Chiyo's voice carried over the chaos again, almost teasing: "Are there no main family Hyuga members… what a pity. I wanted to collect a few of them."

Hizashi growled under his breath, using Gentle Fist: Hakke Kūshō (Vacuum Palm) to blast a series of puppet strings away, pushing Chiyo back. But every strike cost chakra, and the poison from Suna's needles kept Konoha shinobi on edge. Several fell to sudden, unseen hits; others froze, coughing, as the toxic effects spread.

Pakura's flames raged, searing the ground around Hiashi. She unleashed Shakuton: Kaenkyūdan (Scorching Fire Bullet) at high speed, forcing Hiashi to leap backward with a Gentle Fist: Hakke Jūhachi Shō (18 Palms) counter to shield himself. Each strike she landed, however, was calculated to avoid direct killing, instead focusing on disruption and intimidation.

Konoha shinobi fared worse. Poisoned needles from Chiyo's puppets slashed at ankles, arms, and exposed flesh. Shibi Aburame tried to intervene, but his swarms could only protect a fraction. "Fall back! Regroup!" he barked, but the waves of Suna forces pressed relentlessly.

Chiyo, seeing Hizashi close in, shifted tactics. Ningendō: Kōsen (Puppet Technique: Crossfire)... strings in a lattice... sprang up from multiple angles. Hizashi's path was cut off multiple times, forcing him to pivot, retreat, and regroup. The Byakugan gave him sight, but even he could only anticipate so much. Each puppet strike had embedded poison, each hit eroding stamina, focus and eating away their attention.

--
A/N: Sasori is not a part of suna anymore. He left at age 15 and came back to kill Third kazekage at 18. This means Third kazekage is ....?