Chapter 32 — The Slash
Hearing those ominous, almost spell-like words, Hatake Kyūjō couldn't help but shudder.
It had taken him a good amount of time and a rather complicated explanation to finally convince Sarutobi Chikawa and the others. Still, the way the three of them kept glancing at the large bump on Captain Araki's neck clearly showed they weren't entirely convinced.
'Does Captain Araki have some personal grudge against Kyūjō...?'
'What kind of grudge would warrant a hit like that...?'
Wild thoughts like that kept swirling inside Sarutobi Chikawa's mind—he always had a knack for imagining the most unexpected things.
— — —
Meanwhile, figures started to appear on the distant horizon—an entire wave of Sunagakure shinobi gradually entering their field of vision.
Akimichi Chokyu, Sarutobi Chikawa, and Kato Dan all wore solemn faces. It was clear from their expressions alone: they were ready to fight to the death.
Even Kurama Kaeha, usually calm and composed, couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness at the sight of such an overwhelming force. He briefly glanced at Kyūjō, curiosity flickering in his chest—but the moment his eyes met Kyūjō's serene smile, a strange calm washed over him.
That smile carried no fear.
Meanwhile, Captain Araki... was still fast asleep. The guy looked like a newborn baby, entirely unbothered by the looming storm ahead.
— — —
And at the very front of the enemy army—about a hundred meters away—stood the infamous Chiyo, the war-hardened elder of Sunagakure.
She had brought nearly five hundred shinobi with her. All of them burned with the same vengeful hatred, their killing intent aimed straight at Kyūjō and his comrades.
They had come—for death.
Kyūjō let out a soft sigh and slowly shook his head.
He hadn't wanted to break the rules of engagement. But there were always those who chose destruction over peace.
Isn't life beautiful? he thought.
As he looked at the bloodthirsty ninja charging forward with grim determination, a quiet resolve hardened in his chest.
War was cruel. Especially one like this—fought over resources, not justice. In such a conflict, mercy had no place.
They had stepped onto the battlefield by their own will.
So he wouldn't hold back.
— — —
His left hand gripped the sheath on his waist.
His right hand gently rested on the sword's hilt.
Then, in a calm but commanding voice, he spoke—his words directed straight at the army before him:
"Shinobi of Sunagakure—turn back."
"Go home. Back to the Land of Wind. Your families and loved ones are there, waiting for you. This land, the Land of Fire, is not where you belong."
"I know. I know you've resolved yourselves as ninja the moment you stepped onto this battlefield. But still... I want to give you one last chance."
"Leave... or stay here and die."
His gentle voice, warm and composed, echoed strangely across the battlefield.
Some of the Sunagakure shinobi visibly hesitated. Their eyes flickered with doubt—as if something in Kyūjō's voice had reached their hearts.
But to be a shinobi meant discarding emotion in the face of duty.
Most of those five hundred ninja were already caught in an endless cycle of vengeance. They wouldn't be swayed by words—no matter how sincere.
Your friend is killed today. You kill their friend tomorrow. And the cycle goes on, forever.
Hatred like that... couldn't be reasoned with.
Realizing no one would retreat, Kyūjō took a long breath, letting the tension slide from his body.
— — —
...Breathe...
A sound like a soft inhale spread across the battlefield—an ethereal vibration that resonated through the very air itself, as if the world had taken a deep breath with him.
And then, something stirred.
The Colorless Haki that slumbered deep within Kyūjō's body slowly awoke.
A thunderous wave of pressure exploded outward like a tsunami crashing over the battlefield.
The very world trembled.
Winds howled.
The ground moaned and cracked beneath invisible pressure.
Colors bled from the world—until everything was drenched in a muted, ghostly hue.
Then—
A slash.
A single, razor-sharp arc of light burst through the air.
It was a flying slash that defied reality—a sweeping, horizontal strike infused with just 13% of Kyūjō's total Colorless Haki.
And yet... it tore through several kilometers of land in an instant.
The earth split apart wherever the blade passed. Soil was flung skyward. Entire chunks of land collapsed. Even distant mountains were cleaved cleanly in half—leaving behind a monstrous trench that stretched across the battlefield, hundreds of meters wide.
Behind him, Kurama Kaeha stared at Kyūjō's back—standing alone, unwavering, facing the full wrath of the enemy.
His heart murmured in disbelief:
Is this... the end of the world?
— — —
Far below the earth, buried beneath the ruined battlefield... Chiyo, the war veteran and commander of Sunagakure's forces, was overwhelmed by a tidal wave of conflicting emotions.
Regret.
Hatred.
Sorrow.
But all of it... had been reduced to nothing in the wake of a single slash.
Hatake Kyūjō's sword had erased it all.
— — —
He sheathed his blade with a quiet, fluid motion.
Then turned to face his friends. A bright smile bloomed on his lips.
"Let's go."
"It's time to end this war."
But the four ninja standing nearby were still frozen.
None of them spoke.
None of them moved.
They couldn't.
What they had just witnessed—was far beyond anything a normal human should be capable of.
Kyūjō's voice softened as he spoke again.
"Could I ask you all to keep this... to yourselves?"
"I don't want anyone knowing what I'm capable of. I just want to live quietly. That's all I ask."
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Sarutobi Chikawa was the first to recover. He shouted, "But why, Kyūjō?! You have the power to unite the entire ninja world! Why not lead Konoha to rule them all?!"
The other three turned toward Kyūjō, eager to hear his answer.
Kyūjō furrowed his brows, then replied plainly.
"Unite the ninja world, huh?"
"Sorry, that's not my dream. And besides... forget it. You wouldn't understand."
"All you need to know is this—I may be strong... but I'm not invincible."
"That's why I ask. Please... keep this secret. I've already told you why."
Kurama Kaeha stepped forward, placed a fist over his heart, and said with firm resolve:
"Kyūjō, thank you for saving us. I swear on the name of the Kurama Clan—I'll never speak a word of this to anyone."
The other three glanced at one another—then nodded, raising their hands in solemn agreement.
They too, would carry this secret to the grave.
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