Deep within the Kumo encampment, nestled behind hastily erected earthworks and sensor-jamming seals, stood the command tent. It was larger than the others, marked by the stylized lightning Kanji of Kumogakure, but it bore the scars of the prolonged siege – mud spattered its canvas walls, one corner was patched haphazardly, and the air inside was thick with the smell of stale sweat, damp earth, and simmering fury. Maps lay strewn across a heavy wooden table, weighted down by kunai and half-empty canteens, marked with frustrated slashes and circles around the barrier's projected location.
Ayy, the man destined to become the Fourth Raikage, stood like a statue carved from storm clouds. His massive frame seemed to fill the tent, muscles corded with barely contained power.
His jaw was clenched so tightly that a muscle ticked rhythmically beneath his dark skin. His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, burned with a frustrated, impotent fire as he listened to the report from the haggard jounin before him. The man swayed slightly on his feet, dark circles etched deep under his eyes.
"...exhaustion levels critical, Lord Ayy," the jounin rasped, his voice raw. "Rotation G is spent. They've been channelling for three hours straight. Chakra reserves are dangerously low across the board. We must cycle them out. A full rest period. If we push them further, we risk backlash, collapse… potentially fatal chakra exhaustion."
Ayy's fist slammed down on the table. "Wham!"
Wood groaned. A kunai bounced and clattered to the floor.
"Rest?!" His voice was a low, dangerous rumble, like distant thunder promising a devastating storm. "We break momentum now, we give them time to reinforce, to patch weaknesses! We lose the initiative we paid for in blood!"
The Jonin flinched but held his ground, desperation overriding fear. "Understood, Lord Ayy. But by replacing them with fresher squads… the overall firepower will drop significantly. The current assault teams are our most potent long-range specialists. The reserves… they're good, but they lack the same focused output. We might not even maintain the current pressure, let alone increase it."
Ayy closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath through flared nostrils. The air in the tent crackled with static, tiny sparks dancing along his knuckles where they gripped the table edge. The image of that damned barrier, mocking him, shimmering untouched while his men broke themselves against it, filled his vision.
He could feel the Raikage waiting, heavy with the expectation of victory, and here he was, stalled by a wall of light. The frustration was a physical pressure in his chest, threatening to explode. He waved a dismissive, trembling hand.
"Get out. Report again in fifteen minutes. And tell Rotation G… they hold. They hold until I say otherwise."
The Jonin paled but saluted sharply, relief warring with dread on his face. "Hai, Lord Ayy!" He practically fled the suffocating atmosphere of the tent.
Alone, Ayy slumped forward, bracing his massive hands on the map table. His head hung low, broad shoulders tense. The silence inside the tent was punctuated only by his own harsh breathing and the muffled, incessant "BOOM-CRACKLE" of the ongoing assault outside – a constant reminder of failure.
He focused on the map, on the symbol representing Konoha's stronghold, imagining crushing it beneath his fist. The rage simmered, a volcano seeking release. "Useless. All this power and I'm stopped by… a barrier." He drew another ragged breath, the sound loud in the confined space.
The tent flap rustled. Ayy's head snapped up, eyes blazing, the pent-up fury finding a target. "I SAID OUT!" he roared, the force of his voice making the canvas walls billow. He half-turned, fist already unconsciously clenching, ready to physically eject the intruder.
But the figure ducking inside wasn't a cowering jounin. It was younger, slimmer, but radiating a familiar, chaotic energy. No beard yet softened the sharp lines of his jaw, only a faint shadow hinting at its future growth. His spiky, pale hair was defiantly untamed, and his eyes, though lacking the later years of weary wisdom, held an unnerving intensity and a spark of mischief. He wore a variation of the Kumo flak jacket but with more… flair, including a bandana tied around his bicep and a sword hilt protruding over his shoulder.
"Whoa, easy, big bro, simmer down the flow!" came the voice, a rhythmic cadence already shaping the words into something approaching music, albeit awkwardly. "Killer B, in the place, with the style and the grace! Saw the storm clouds gatherin' 'round your face! What's the biz, what's the haps, why the furious snaps? Lay it on me, yo, before your temper collapses!"
Ayy froze, the fury momentarily derailed by sheer, cringe-inducing surprise. He blinked. "...Bee?" The name came out as a strained exhale. The sheer absurdity of his adopted brother's entrance, the terrible, earnest rapping cutting through his murderous tension, was like throwing a bucket of ice water on a grease fire. It didn't extinguish the anger, but it shocked it into a momentary pause.
Killer B struck a pose, one hand on his sword hilt, the other gesturing vaguely. "The one and only, B the great, never late to defuse a bro's irate state! So spill the tea, or the sake, or whatever's makin' you ache-y! What's got the future Raikage feelin' so breaky?"
Ayy closed his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took another deep, deliberate breath, forcing the tremble out of his hands. The urge to throttle the young Jinchuriki warred with a strange, reluctant gratitude for the interruption.
"The barrier, Bee," he growled, the word tasting like ash. He gestured roughly towards the direction of the shimmering wall, invisible from inside the tent but omnipresent in the constant thunder outside.
"Konoha's shell. We're pouring everything we have into it. Our strongest jutsu, our best men... they're hitting a wall. Literally. It doesn't break. Our shinobi are draining themselves dry, collapsing. We rotate them out, and the firepower drops. We keep pushing, they break permanently." He slammed a fist lightly against the table again. "Thud."
"We're stuck. Hammering an anvil with feathers. We lack... we lack the raw power to punch through."
The admission cost him, scraping raw against his pride.
Killer B tilted his head, his earlier playful demeanour shifting subtly. The intense eyes sharpened. He didn't rap immediately. He processed. The constant "BOOM!" outside seemed to grow louder for a moment.
Then, a slow grin spread across his face. It wasn't his usual goofy smirk; it was fierce, confident, and tinged with the otherworldly power simmering beneath his skin. He threw his arms wide, a gesture encompassing himself, the tent, and the entire frustrating siege.
"Lack the power? Yo, big bro, open your eyes and see the flower!" He began, his rhythm picking up, gaining a harder edge. "You got an ace, sittin' right here, no need to chase fear! Forget the feathers, forget the strain, let loose the beast, break the chain!" He pointed a thumb at his own chest.
"This vessel holds the storm, the rage, the power to turn the page! Eight-Tails roarin', ready to ignite, gonna bathe that barrier in purest light! Gyuki's chakra, wild and free, more power than that shell will ever see!"
He took a step closer, his voice dropping slightly, the rap becoming a focused chant, a promise. "So chill your jets, let B take the stage, watch me rewrite history's page! That Konoha wall, shiny and bright? Gonna crack it open, let in the night! Precise and keen, the strongest attack the world's ever seen! Just point the way, give me the sign, and watch that barrier cease to shine! Yo! Leave it to B, no need to fret, that barrier's 'bout to get... reset!" He finished with a flourish, striking another pose, eyes blazing with a mixture of youthful bravado and the ancient, terrifying power of the Hachibi.
Ayy stared at him. The terrible rapping, the over-the-top confidence… but beneath it, the raw, undeniable truth. The power of a Tailed Beast. The power Kumogakure had sacrificed so much to possess. The power he, as future Raikage, was ultimately responsible for wielding. The frustration didn't vanish, but it morphed. From impotent rage into a focused, dangerous calculation.
He looked from Bee's fierce grin to the map, to the spot marked 'Konoha Barrier'. A slow, grim smile touched Ayy's lips. It wasn't pleasant. It was the smile of a man about to unleash a hurricane.
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