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The Smell of War
Long before the horns sounded, long before the messengers shouted through the camp, Ryuzen could taste it.
The metallic tang of blood. The smoke in the wind. The silence that pressed on his chest, heavy as stone.
The Third Great Shinobi War was about to swallow them again.
At dawn, the order came:
"All shinobi—march. By the Hokage's command, the White Fang leads the spearhead."
No hesitation. No questioning. Thousands moved at once. Armor tightened. Scrolls sealed. Kunai sharpened. This was the rhythm of war.
But Ryuzen's stomach twisted. Too sudden. Too forced. Someone in Konoha's council is playing their game. They want a victory they can polish into politics.
He looked across the camp and saw Sakumo Hatake—the White Fang of Konoha. Calm. Unshakable. His presence alone straightened the spine of every shinobi.
Beside him walked Minato Namikaze, younger than many but already commanding with clarity. Orders slipped from his lips like water, every one precise. Ryuzen knew—this man will outshine them all one day.
And then there was Ryuzen himself, the storm coiled between them.
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The March
The forest devoured them as they moved.
Thousands of shinobi in silence. No banners. No songs. Just the crunch of boots on dirt, the whisper of steel at their sides, and the faint rustle of chakra in the air.
From the ridges above, hawks circled. Scouts darted ahead. The army slithered like a serpent through trees and stone until the ground dipped into a wide scar of earth.
And then they saw it.
The valley.
A great wound in the land, jagged ridges on either side. And within it, waiting like a mountain prepared to crush them—the army of Iwagakure.
Thousands strong. Earth-nature chakra thick in the air. Stone shields already forming lines like walls.
The whisper spread through Konoha's forces—
They knew. They were waiting for us.
Ryuzen's jaw clenched. This isn't coincidence. Someone fed them our movements.
But before panic could grow, Sakumo stepped forward.
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The White Fang's Voice
Sakumo drew his blade. White steel glimmered in the morning sun. His voice cut across the valley, quiet but sharp, slicing through fear.
"Shinobi of Konoha. The enemy stands before us, certain of their victory. They outnumber us. They wait for us. They think us weak. Today, we show them how wrong they are."
A fire rippled through the ranks. Eyes hardened. Hands gripped weapons.
And then Sakumo moved.
One step. One blur.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone from the ridge and inside the Iwa army, his white blade already cutting through stone and flesh alike.
"Follow him!" someone roared.
The valley exploded.
---
The Valley of Chaos
Konoha surged forward. Thousands poured into the scar, steel against stone, chakra against chakra.
Explosions ripped the air. Flames licked across ridges. The ground quaked as earth-style jutsu split the valley into jagged trenches.
Ryuzen leapt into the heart of it. His body sang with storm chakra. Wind burst from his steps, propelling him like a missile into the enemy. His kunai spun in wide arcs, amplified by chakra, shredding stone shields into splinters.
"Keep moving!" he barked to the squad nearest him. "Don't let them lock you in place!"
To his left, a wall of stone spears erupted from the ground, skewering forward. Ryuzen exhaled, wind chakra condensing at his palm. With a violent push, he blasted the spears into dust.
Chaos. Screams. Steel. Blood.
This was no duel. This was war.
---
Minato's Precision
Through the storm, Ryuzen saw Minato moving like water.
Every seal he wove had purpose.
"Squad Three, cover the left ridge! Watch the chakra traps!"
"Medics—fall back thirty paces, behind the barrier line!"
"Chakra suppression squad—cut their signal flares now!"
Where Sakumo's blade was the spear, Minato's clarity was the net holding the army together.
And Ryuzen… was the storm filling the spaces between them.
---
The White Fang Unleashed
Sakumo was terrifying.
He didn't fight like a shinobi. He fought like a force of nature. His blade flashed white, a streak of death no wall could block. Earth-style bulwarks shattered beneath his strikes. Enemy squads broke like water around him.
But more than his blade, it was the way he fought—always angling, always shifting his body just so, always ensuring those around him had an opening.
Every strike carried weight not just for victory, but for survival.
And Ryuzen knew why.
He's not just fighting for Konoha. He's fighting to go home. To see his son again.
The thought made Ryuzen's chest tighten.
Because history wouldn't remember it that way.
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The Boulder of Iwagakure
The ground trembled.
From the Iwa ranks stepped a giant of a man, bald and broad-shouldered, his chakra thick as a mountain. His very presence made shinobi falter.
General Onishi, the Boulder of Iwagakure.
"Hatake!" Onishi's voice boomed across the valley. "Today, your blade breaks against stone!"
Sakumo stepped forward, unflinching.
"Try."
And then steel met stone.
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The Clash of Titans
Onishi's fists turned earth to weapons. Each punch rippled through the ground, sending spears and walls surging like tidal waves.
Sakumo's blade flashed white, cutting through walls, slicing through boulders, deflecting fists that could crush a man in one blow.
The valley itself seemed to groan under their battle.
Ryuzen fought his way closer, carving through waves of Iwa shinobi. Every strike of Sakumo's was legendary, but every strike also whispered desperation.
Ryuzen's eyes narrowed. He's fighting like a father, not just a soldier. Kakashi… you are in every swing of that blade.
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The Trap
Then it came.
Onishi slammed both fists into the ground. Cracks spiderwebbed outward, chakra detonating beneath the battlefield.
The valley split.
Walls of stone erupted, cutting Sakumo and his vanguard away from the rest of Konoha's army.
Ryuzen's stomach dropped. They wanted this. They planned this trap just for him.
Thousands of Iwa shinobi surged toward the isolated unit.
Minato's voice rang out, sharp. "They're trying to drown him—!"
Ryuzen didn't hesitate. His chakra exploded outward, the storm unchained.
I won't let him fall.
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The First Blood
He leapt, carving his way toward Sakumo, wind and steel tearing through the mob.
And then he saw it.
Onishi's stone fist crashed against Sakumo's guard. The White Fang met it head-on, blade gleaming, teeth gritted.
The collision ripped the air apart.
And then—blood.
It wasn't Onishi's.
The valley froze in Ryuzen's eyes as red sprayed across the white of Sakumo's blade.
For the first time, Ryuzen saw the White Fang bleed.
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⚡ [End of Chapter 39] ⚡
Author's Note:
This chapter marks a turning point—our storm, our spear, and our strategist finally stand together on the same battlefield. Ryuzen, Sakumo, and Minato are no longer just names in a story; they are the pulse of Konoha's survival. Writing the Valley clash was heavy for me, because every strike Sakumo makes is more than steel against stone—it's a father's love, a man's burden, and the shadow of what history will never forgive him for.
We've gained 1 more collection (22 now!), and though our reader count still feels small (8), each one of you carries this story further than I imagined. Thank you for reading, for collecting, and for standing with Ryuzen as he walks a path that twists between canon and storm.
Next chapter… the blood spilled today will not be forgotten.