Chapter 39 - The Raid on the Supply Convoy (5)
Uchiha Fugaku stood frozen, his Sharingan spinning wildly as he tried to process the scene before him. Yet, no matter how many times he blinked or rubbed his eyes, the image remained unchanged.
Amidst the carnage, beside a corpse, stood Kazane. His body crackled with arcs of blue lightning, flickering erratically like a storm barely contained. A dark, oppressive aura swirled around him, as though the very air recoiled from his presence. He looked less like a human and more like a wrathful deity descended from the abyss, a demon god wreathed in thunder and shadow.
Fugaku committed this moment to memory, engraving it deep within his mind. This was not something he would ever forget.
Had it been Orochimaru who delivered such overwhelming destruction, he might have merely sighed at the legendary Sannin's unfathomable strength. But this… this was Kazane—a mere child in the eyes of the world. And yet, in this moment, he seemed anything but.
Awe and disbelief swirled within Fugaku's heart.
"Let's go, Lord Fugaku. We need to return. The battlefield might still require our support," Kazane's voice cut through the eerie silence.
Having retrieved the sealing scroll from Hikaru's corpse, he confirmed that it contained the supplies they had been after. Without another glance at the wreckage of his fallen enemy, Kazane walked toward Uchiha Kōtan, who was still locked in a genjutsu battle against an Iwa-nin.
Fugaku watched him leave, unable to suppress the question rising in his chest.
"Kazane… aren't you afraid of death?"
The words slipped out almost involuntarily. He knew it was foolish to ask—every shinobi faced death constantly. But Kazane was different. No matter how powerful he was, he was still a kid. How could he fight like this without even a flicker of hesitation?
Kazane didn't stop walking. His voice was steady, almost indifferent, as he replied,
"Disasters always come one after another. That is the nature of this world. Do you think someone will always come to save you just because you have a reason to be saved? If I die here, it only means I was never more than this."
He kept moving, his words lingering in the air.
Fugaku remained rooted to the spot. A strange chill crept over him—not one born of fear, but of realization.
"Such conviction…" he murmured, his hands clenching into fists.
It was in that moment that Fugaku understood.
The era of this man had truly begun.
And he would not let the Uchiha clan remain spectators to it.
When they returned to camp, he would speak to Uchiha Syōma. The clan's future had to be tied to Kazane and his master. A man like this—one who carried such unwavering resolve and had the ability to turn his talent into power—was destined for greatness.
---
Iwa-nin Village – Forward Base
The morning sun had barely risen over the jagged mountain ridges when a tense standoff transpired at the Iwa-nin forward base.
"Orochimaru, where do you find the courage to attack our outpost with only two thousand men?"
Kitsuchi's voice carried across the battlefield, laced with contempt. He stood at the front of the Iwa forces, arms crossed, a confident smirk playing on his lips.
His scouts had alerted him of Konoha's advance long before they crossed the border. This standoff was nothing more than a formality—Konoha was outnumbered, and in his mind, the battle's outcome had already been decided.
"Heh… What if we add the Uchiha clan to the equation? Would that be enough?"
A cold voice cut through the air.
Standing to Orochimaru's left, Uchiha Syōma stepped forward, his three-tomoe Sharingan spinning with quiet menace. His gaze locked onto Kitsuchi's, an unmistakable smirk tugging at his lips.
Kitsuchi's confidence wavered, though he masked it well.
The Uchiha clan.
The strongest bloodline in the ninja world.
Individually, they were terrifying. Collectively, they were a force capable of rewriting the tides of war. If the Uchiha truly intended to fight… then this battle was far from certain.
Even so, Kitsuchi refused to back down.
"The Uchiha clan is finally stepping onto the battlefield? Haven't you always been Konoha's caged golden canaries? For decades, you've hidden behind your so-called prestige, refusing to fight. Why not just stay in your gilded cage a little longer? Spare yourselves the humiliation."
Syōma scoffed. He had no interest in being provoked by cheap words.
"Hmph. We'll see if your skills are as sharp as your tongue when the battle begins," he replied.
But he was no fool. Their objective today was not to throw their forces into reckless combat. It was a calculated maneuver, a delaying tactic. And to waste men over mere words would be absurd.
Orochimaru, as ever, saw through the charade.
"Kitsuchi, do you really think we came all this way just to exchange pleasantries?"
He shifted ever so slightly into a stance, just enough to imply aggression. If he appeared too passive, Kitsuchi would suspect something was amiss.
But in truth, Orochimaru had no intention of engaging in a prolonged battle. Konoha's numbers were limited—every shinobi counted. This wasn't about brute force. It was about strategy.
"So, Orochimaru, have you prepared to leave all two thousand of your men here today?"
Kitsuchi's tone was sharp, but beneath his words, he was stalling.
According to his calculations, Hikaru's team should have been arriving by now. With their reinforcement of three elite Jōnin, the battlefield would shift in Iwa's favor.
That was the true reason for his confidence.
All he needed to do was buy time.
But then—
A lone shinobi appeared behind Orochimaru, kneeling swiftly.
"Orochimaru-sama, Kazane-sama has returned."
Orochimaru's lips curled ever so slightly into a knowing smirk.
At his side, Syōma exhaled, a brief flicker of relief flashing across his features.
Their gazes met, silently exchanging the same thought.
It was time.
"Kitsuchi, I brought you two gifts today," Orochimaru said smoothly, stepping forward. "Here's the first one."
He raised a single hand, and the command rippled through the ranks.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu!" A thousand voices roared.
"Fire Release: Grand Fireball Jutsu!" Another three hundred.
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!" A thousand more.
The sky ignited.
A tidal wave of flames, fueled by violent winds, surged forward, engulfing the Iwa-nin ranks in an all-consuming inferno.
Kitsuchi's eyes widened in alarm.
"Damn it! Earth-style walls, now!" he bellowed.
"Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall!" Three thousand voices answered.
"Earth Release: Earth Flow Fortress!" Another forty.
Massive walls of stone erupted from the ground, forming desperate barriers against the flames. But the attack had come too suddenly, too ferociously.
Despite their best efforts, large sections of the Iwa ranks were consumed by fire. The air filled with screams and the acrid stench of burning flesh.
And then—
As the firestorm settled, Kitsuchi looked around, his breath ragged.
The Konoha forces were gone.
"Orochimaru… I swear I'll kill you!" he roared.
Then, suddenly, a thought struck him.
Orochimaru had mentioned two gifts.
This was only the first.
His heart pounded.
"Hikaru's squad… have they arrived yet?" His voice was strained.
A nearby Iwa-nin quickly checked the camp before running back.
"Hikaru-sama is not here. His team hasn't arrived."
Kitsuchi's heart sank.
"Send scouts! Find them! Now!"
A terrible sense of dread settled over him.
Something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.