The Kumo ninja camp simmered with a heavy silence. Compared to the lively and victorious atmosphere of the Konoha base, the air here was thick with tension and quiet desperation.
Between the long rows of tents, medical-nin clad in yellow and white uniforms moved swiftly. They carried bloodied stretchers, the wounded groaning beneath layers of bandages. The pungent scent of antiseptic barely masked the iron tang of blood. The battlefield had not spared them.
Inside the main command tent, the air was equally stifling.
As the commander-in-chief of the Kumogakure forces, Dodai's face was pale with exhaustion. The dark circles beneath his eyes deepened by the hour, and his posture slumped slightly—too burdened by the weight of recent events to stand proud.
Before Namikaze Mirai had entered the battlefield, Kumogakure had been advancing with confident strides. Every offensive they launched had ended in victory. Their momentum was unshakable, their morale higher than ever. Some among the strategists had even whispered hopes of pushing directly into Hi no Kuni and finishing the war in one sweeping stroke.
But then, Namikaze Mirai arrived.
Dodai still couldn't erase the image burned into his memory—the gigantic metal sphere that had detonated above the battlefield. Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could hear the hum of its charge and the boom that followed.
The resulting explosion had crippled the Kumo forces. Over 30% of their combat-ready shinobi had been lost in a single strike. The molten shrapnel scattered from the blast had struck even those at a distance, searing through armor, skin, and bone with no discrimination. The exact numbers were uncertain. Thirty percent was a conservative estimate. The psychological damage, the disruption of their formation, and the loss of seasoned Jōnin made the true loss immeasurable.
Dodai stared at the battlefield map on the table, his hand trembling slightly. That had been just one jutsu—just one—and it had cost them dearly. If Mirai truly intended to press the advantage, how could they possibly respond?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden rustling of the tent flaps.
"Dodai-sama, the reinforcements sent by Raikage-sama have arrived."
The voice was respectful, hopeful even.
Dodai's eyes widened slightly, relief blooming in his chest. Reinforcements had arrived? Just as he was starting to despair?
"Excellent. Bring them in immediately."
…
Half an hour later, inside the Kumo conference hall, the atmosphere had changed.
Around the large table, Dodai and several high-ranking Kumo commanders sat with renewed energy, their gazes focused on two figures seated across from them.
Two Jinchūriki.
Two perfect Jinchūriki.
Nii Yugito, calm and composed, radiated controlled power. Beside her sat Killer Bee, bouncing slightly in his seat, an easy grin on his face. The two were as contrasting as they were lethal.
"I heard things were gettin' bad out here. Big bro said 'Go lend a hand,' so we dashed out overnight, you understand! Oh yeah!"
With a flourish, Killer Bee finished his spontaneous rap verse, raising both hands in a showy peace sign. The room remained silent, but his attempt at levity cut through some of the heaviness.
Dodai's grin widened.
"With you two here, Konoha won't be making waves this time. That I guarantee."
The Jinchūriki were the nuclear deterrents of the Five Great Nations. Natural disasters wrapped in human form. And Kumogakure had not one, but two perfect vessels—completely in control of their Tailed Beasts.
By contrast, Konohagakure's only Jinchūriki, the Nine-Tails brat Uzumaki Naruto, was still just a child, years away from wielding any real threat. Even with Namikaze Mirai on the field, how could he possibly counter a force like this?
"We'll let Konoha taste failure for once." Dodai muttered, half to himself.
For the first time in days, he truly smiled.
…
Back at the Konoha camp, the mood had shifted just as sharply—but in the opposite direction.
Ninja who had still been celebrating their recent victory now stood pale-faced as urgent reports flooded in from the front.
A massive Kumo counterattack was in motion—bigger than the last assault. Far bigger.
In the strategy tent, Konoha's top brass gathered around the center table, their expressions grave.
"How is this possible?" muttered Nara Shikaku. "They just suffered massive casualties..."
"They must've called in backup."
"Could it be a bluff? A feint?"
"Too risky. They're throwing numbers. This is real."
Speculation and panic buzzed in the room like a cloud of hornets. All eyes gradually shifted to the man sitting silently at the head of the table—Namikaze Mirai.
He leaned back in his chair, arms folded, face unreadable.
A few awkward coughs passed between the commanders before one finally spoke up.
"Mirai-sama... how do you plan to respond?"
Mirai's reply came cool and sharp.
"Fight."
Two syllables.
The room fell into stunned silence.
…
The battlefield stretched before them once more—the same wide plain as before. Charred remnants of metal still littered the ground from the previous engagement. No time had been wasted cleaning it up. War waited for no one.
Yamanaka Inoichi stood beside Namikaze Mirai, squinting at the distant horizon as scouts relayed the direction of the incoming force.
Mirai, as always, was calm. Unbothered. As if facing a school exam, not an invading army.
The rest of the Konoha forces were tense. Some gripped their kunai too tightly. Others whispered prayers.
Only the Uchiha stood relaxed, poised. The group under Mirai's command showed burning eagerness, many activating their Sharingan preemptively. They looked ready to spill blood.
Then it began.
*Thud... Thud... Thud...*
The distant tremor of marching boots.
Soon, a black tide appeared over the horizon, surging forward. The Kumo army approached with terrifying momentum.
Yamanaka Inoichi's eyes narrowed.
"Mirai-sama, do we launch a counter now?"
Mirai didn't even blink.
"Not yet."
The enemy drew closer, their war cries growing louder by the second. The plain shook under their charge.
"Mirai-sama, we must move! At this range—!"
"Not yet."
A glint entered Mirai's piercing blue eyes.
He was waiting for something.
Inoichi's hands were clammy with sweat. "We don't have time!"
The Kumo troops were almost upon them. Panic spread through the Konoha ranks. The screams, the pounding boots, the tension—it was too much.
And then—
Mirai smiled.
"It's now."
*Zzzzt!*
Without warning, the ground beneath the charging Kumo ninjas exploded open. Dozens of silver metal pylons shot upward like spikes. The next instant, arcs of blue electricity sparked between them, forming an enormous latticework of energy.
A power grid.
*CRACK!*
Screams split the air.
Kumo shinobi at the front were electrocuted mid-run, their bodies convulsing violently before being shredded by the sheer voltage. Those behind them couldn't stop in time, crashing into the electrified field and sharing the same horrific fate. Flesh sizzled. Blood sprayed.
*BZZZZT!*
It was a massacre.
Inoichi stood frozen, eyes wide. "W-What... what is this?"
"Lightning-Iron Net Formation!"
Mirai turned toward him, eyebrows raised casually.
"What era do you think this is?" he said. "Still playing samurai on a battlefield?"
He looked back toward the deathly blue grid, his voice cool and confident.
"This is modern warfare."
*****
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