"Blood Dragon Ascension (血龍昇天, Ketsuryū Shōten)!"
ROOOAAAAR!
From the crimson-soaked earth, grotesque serpentine heads erupted, their forms writhing with an unnatural, malevolent energy as they tore through the disorganized ranks of the Kumogakure shinobi. A wave of primal panic seized the enemy forces. The blood dragons, extensions of Oyashiro's formidable will, moved with a terrifying, relentless pursuit. No matter how desperately the Kumo shinobi dodged and weaved, the crimson heads seemed to possess an eerie sentience, their glowing eyes tracking every frantic attempt at escape.
"Arghhh…"
The battlefield became a macabre orchestra of guttural screams and the sickening sounds of rending flesh and splintering bone. The Kumo shinobi's initial arrogance and numerical superiority had evaporated, replaced by a paralyzing bewilderment. They had come expecting a swift subjugation, yet they were being systematically decimated, caught in a brutal crossfire between the unexpected Uzushio interlopers and the furiously defending Hagaromo.
Amidst the carnage, one figure stood rigid with incandescent fury. Daichi, the operation's ambitious leader, handpicked by the Land of Lightning's Daimyō and one of the candidate (recommendation of Land of Lightning's Daimyō ) for the fourth Raikage position , watched his carefully constructed aspirations crumble into bloody ruin before his very eyes. Success in this mission could have been his coronation, elevating him to Lord A's inner circle, showering him with unprecedented honor and influence. Instead, it was spiraling into an unmitigated, career-ending disaster.
Where in the name of the Raikage did everything go so horribly wrong?
His gaze, burning with impotent resentment, snapped towards the two youthful figures who were orchestrating the brutal massacre of his elite men. Wait… those headbands? The swirling symbol… Uzushiogakure ninjas! A fresh wave of scorching rage washed over him, hot and blinding.
During the ill-fated invasion of Uzushiogakure years prior, his own brother, fueled by a lust for glory and the promise of spoils, had eagerly joined the attacking forces of kumogakure , boasting of the potential for acquiring a prized Female Uzumaki concubine to strengthen their family's bloodline.
(Author's notice: Could Daichi's brother have been the grandfather of Karui, the only known individual with red hair in Kumogakure's ranks in the original Naruto timeline? A chilling thought, hinting at a deeper, perhaps familial, connection to the Uzumaki lineage.)
All that had returned from that disastrous campaign was his brother's bloodstained, tattered headband. Now, the very shinobi of Uzushiogakure were once again thwarting his ambitions, and to be so thoroughly humiliated by mere children… the indignity was unbearable, a festering wound to his pride. In a moment of chilling calm amidst the surrounding carnage, Daichi's mind, sharp and calculating despite his fury, began to formulate a desperate, vengeful plan.
Keke… they may have won this paltry battle, but they won't be leaving the Land of Lightning alive. I'll personally ensure their agonizing demise.
"Men, retreat!" Daichi roared, his voice cutting through the din of battle, a command that surprised even his own surviving subordinates. He began to orchestrate a tactical withdrawal, his movements precise and efficient, a subtle, unsettling grin flickering across his lips as his gaze lingered on Akashi, a silent promise of future retribution.
Damn, Akashi thought, a prickle of unease crawling up his spine. The emotions radiating from that guy are deeply disturbing, to say the least. He's clearly not content with a simple retreat. There's a cold, calculating fury there that chills me to the bone.
"Kuroko-sensei, we need to get out of here, and fast!" Akashi shouted to his sensei, who had just dispatched another Kumo shinobi with a swift, lethal strike, his movements a blur of deadly efficiency.
"You don't have to tell me twice, Akashi. I felt that guy's malevolent intent too," Kuroko replied, a hint of grim nervousness lacing his voice as he surveyed the retreating Kumo forces.
While the Uzushio team briefly regrouped, the surviving members of the Hagaromo Clan were tending to their wounded, their faces a complex tapestry of relief, gratitude, and wary curiosity.
"Boss, who do you think those guys are, and why did they risk their lives to help us?" a young Hagaromo clan member asked, his gaze fixed on Akashi and his companions, his horns twitching slightly.
Hiro, the Hagaromo leader, his imposing figure still radiating a battle-worn weariness, considered the question, his brow furrowed in thought. "Hmm… I believe they might be from Uzushiogakure. You all saw that blood dragon, didn't you? That's a technique I've only ever witnessed from the Chinoike clan, and we all know they relocated to Uzushio. As for their motives… that's something we'll need to ask them directly." A pragmatic cynicism, born from years of hardship and betrayal, colored his tone. In the brutal world of shinobi, true altruism was a rare and often suspect commodity.
Kuroko, sensing the collective scrutiny directed at their backs, turned to face the assembled Hagaromo in the distance.
"They must be wary, Sensei. I know my clan was when your Uzumaki first appeared in the Valley of Hell," Oyashiro said, turning to look at the other group as well, a hint of understanding in his crimson eyes. He remembered the initial suspicion and guarded hostility that had met the Uzumaki delegation years ago.
"Hn. Then we should go and meet them," Kuroko decided, rising to his feet, his posture radiating a quiet confidence. Akashi and Oyashiro followed suit, and the trio began to walk towards the wary Hagaromo.
Their approach visibly startled some of the Hagaromo, who instinctively shifted into defensive stances, their powerful frames tensing, their horns lowered slightly like cornered beasts. The tense silence that had briefly broken during the battle returned, hanging heavy in the air, thick with unspoken questions and lingering suspicion, until a towering figure, even larger than Hiro, stepped forward from the group.
He possessed the characteristic red-tinged hair and prominent black horns of the Hagaromo, but it was his sheer size and raw, untamed muscular build that truly stood out. He was a veritable giant among shinobi, his presence radiating an almost primal power.
"Strangers," the tall man began, his voice deep and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder, "why did you come here and aid us? Not that we are ungrateful, mind you."
Kuroko stepped forward, assuming a diplomatic posture, his hands held open in a gesture of peace. "We are shinobi of Uzushiogakure," he stated, his voice calm and measured, pausing to choose his words carefully. "Look, we won't engage in unnecessary pleasantries, especially considering we likely have more Kumo shinobi heading our way soon. We are here to extend an invitation to your clan to join Uzushiogakure, at the behest of the Chinoike clan."
Kuroko's directness visibly stunned the Hagaromo. Several members straightened up, their eyes widening in disbelief, scrutinizing Kuroko's face as if searching for any hidden motive, any flicker of deception.
"Not that I doubt your sincerity…" Hiro began, his gaze sharp and assessing, boring into Kuroko's very soul, "…but why us? It can't simply be because the Chinoike requested it."
"Our village is currently seeking to strengthen its foundations by welcoming new clans into our fold," Kuroko explained, his tone earnest and sincere. "With the growing threat of war, we recognize the critical need to solidify our power. The most effective way to achieve this is by incorporating more talent and unique abilities into our ranks. Hence, our presence here."
"So you are inviting us to join you… to fight in a war that is not our own?" Hiro's voice held a distinct note of suspicion, the scars of past betrayals clearly evident.
"War is indeed one potential outcome, I will not deny that," Kuroko conceded, meeting Hiro's gaze unflinchingly. "But it is not the sole, or even the primary, reason for our invitation. Over time, we have come to acknowledge that we cannot always defend our home alone, at least not without incurring significant losses. I am certain you have heard of the recent, ill-fated invasion of Uzushiogakure. Though we ultimately repelled the invaders, it was a costly victory, a stark reminder of our vulnerabilities."
"Yes," Hiro acknowledged, his gaze hardening, a flicker of grim satisfaction in his eyes. "We did hear of that battle. A mighty impressive feat, repelling such numbers. I won't lie; a part of me felt a surge of… satisfaction upon hearing of Kumogakure's failure." He paused, his piercing red eyes locking with Kuroko's. "Still, what tangible benefits would our clan gain from joining Uzushiogakure? We have learned to rely only on ourselves."
"The one thing you have been denied for far too long," Kuroko replied, his gaze sweeping over the assembled Hagaromo, his voice resonating with a quiet empathy.
"And what, pray tell, might that be?" Hiro challenged, his massive arms crossed over his equally massive chest, his posture radiating a lifetime of self-reliance and guarded pride. "We are the Hagaromo Clan, descendants of the Sage of the Six Paths himself. We need nothing from outsiders."
"A home."
One simple word, spoken with quiet conviction, hung heavy in the air, resonating deeply within the hearts of the displaced Hagaromo. Several members exchanged somber glances, their hardened expressions softening, tinged with a poignant longing for a stability and acceptance they had not known since their ignominious exile.
"If the promise of a true home is not sufficient," Kuroko continued, his voice softening slightly, imbued with a genuine sincerity, "know that you will also gain allies in us, the Uzumaki, and the Chinoike. And with new allies in the future… you will inevitably find new rivals, new challenges to test your strength."
A
wry smile, the first genuine expression of something other than suspicion and defiance, touched Hiro's lips. "You drive a hard bargain, Uzumaki." He extended a massive, calloused hand towards Kuroko, a gesture of cautious acceptance.
"Hn. The name is Uzumaki Kuroko," Kuroko replied, meeting Hiro's powerful grip with his own, his smaller hand surprisingly firm.
"Hagaromo Hiro."
A palpable sense of cautious optimism began to spread through the gathered clans, the tension slowly easing as the leaders clasped hands, a symbolic bridge forming between two displaced peoples, a fragile alliance forged in the crucible of battle and the promise of a shared future. But the nascent moment of understanding, of hope for a new beginning, was shattered by a sudden, chilling premonition. Both Kuroko and Akashi, their sensory abilities honed to a razor's edge, felt a distinct, ominous shift in the surrounding chakra signatures – multiple powerful individuals rapidly approaching, their intent radiating a cold, predatory menace.
Panic flashed across their faces. They whirled towards the Hagaromo Clan, their eyes wide with alarm, the fragile hope of alliance dissolving into immediate, visceral fear.
This chakra…! It's… wrong!
"RUN!" Kuroko roared, his warning echoing through the clearing, the newfound alliance threatened before it could truly solidify. A new, far greater danger,malevolent, was rapidly descending upon them, casting a long, ominous shadow over their hard-won understanding.
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End of 25th chapter