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The sun had barely risen when the scouts returned to Minato's tent. Their breath was ragged, their eyes wide. The Byakugan users who had accompanied them confirmed the worst: a massive force of Kumo shinobi was advancing, already within two kilometers.
Minato's hand tightened around the edge of the map he had been studying. The tiredness in the camp was visible—the newly arrived three hundred Konoha shinobi had marched all night. Their armor was dust-caked, their shoulders slumped. They had joined the remnants of the original four hundred, now whittled down to three hundred and fifty. In total, six hundred and fifty men and women. Veterans, yes, but fatigued.
And now they faced eight hundred fresh Kumo shinobi. How were they able to accumulate so many shinobi at once, there were little about 400 shinobi on kumo's side.
The air in the command tent felt heavy, silence stretching too long until Kushina broke it, her voice sharp as steel."They're not even giving us a day to breathe."
Her red hair shimmered faintly with the Nine-Tails' chakra already stirring under her skin. She had been restless since the last battle, carrying disappointment like a weight on her chest. She wanted redemption.
Minato, ever calm, nodded once. "Which means they're confident. They'll try to end this here, before we recover." His gaze swept the room, landing on the squad leaders. "That also means they'll be predictable. Their target will be us—me and Kushina. Prepare accordingly."
Orders were barked, traps were activated, chakra flares signaled positions. Within minutes, the tired shinobi of Konoha had shifted into formation. Pitfalls lined with explosive tags, wire-threaded forests, and pre-marked seals hidden in the earth—all laid overnight with the quiet, desperate precision of men and women who knew another battle was inevitable.
And then the ground shook.
From the east, the younger Ay led the charge, lightning chakra already dancing across his arms like a storm barely contained. Beside him strode Dodai, the veteran lava-style user, his gaze steady, calculating. Behind them came a few over 50 Kumo earth-style shinobi, their jutsu already shaping the terrain as they advanced.
From the west, Killer Bee and Renga's flanking force pressed forward, their voices rallying hundreds more shinobi. Bee's rap-like hum carried strangely in the morning air, but his eyes were cold, focused.
The trap was sprung. Explosions rippled through the ridges, swallowing a dozen Kumo shinobi. Wire snapped taut, slicing across legs and arms. But the sheer numbers of Kumogakure pressed forward regardless, their formation barely slowing.
And at the center of the battlefield, Minato and Kushina stepped forward.
--
The clash was instant. Ay closed the distance with blinding speed, his lightning armor sparking, his fist a blur. Minato barely twisted away, the air itself cracking where Ay's strike landed. The younger Ay snarled.
"Yo, Konoha brat—we meet again!"
Minato's eyes narrowed, kunai already flickering into the air. They spun like silver rain, embedding into trees, into rocks, into soil. Markers—doors of escape and entry.
Dodai moved immediately. His hands clapped together in a smooth sequence. Lava release hissed into existence, burning and bubbling, swallowing the kunai that struck the earth. Around him, earth-style shinobi slammed their palms down, the ground opening to consume the blades.
Minato's gaze flicked once, reading the battlefield in an instant. They weren't trying to overwhelm him with numbers. They were dismantling his jutsu itself.
Dodai, calm amidst the chaos, barked an order. "Gather them. Every kunai buried, bring them here!"
Chakra flared as earth shifted, carrying the sealed kunai toward a single point. Minato saw it immediately—if they were to gather at same point he would lose the surprise.
Ay lunged again, his fist crackling like thunder. Minato twisted away, reappearing in a flash of yellow light a dozen meters behind. But the distance was narrowing. Every kunai reduced meant fewer exits, fewer feints, fewer traps he could spring.
He tried probing Dodai, hurling a kunai high, vanishing toward it—but Ay was there, a wall of lightning intercepting him mid-strike. The impact rattled Minato's arm as he barely blocked with a kunai blade, his seal sparking against Ay's raw power.
Ay grinned, eyes wild with adrenaline. "Not so untouchable now, huh? Without your tricks, you're just another brat with a kunai!"
Minato's mind raced. He could place seals directly, using his hands, but it was slow—seconds of exposure he could not afford against Ay's relentless speed. Every move had to be calculated, every teleport precious.
He flickered again, this time behind Dodai, aiming for a quick strike. But Dodai's years of battlefield instinct were sharp and he was preparing himself for the attack; molten lava burst upward, forcing Minato to retreat before the heat seared his skin. Ay was on him immediately, forcing him back with a storm of blows.
For the first time in battle, Minato felt his advantage slipping. His signature style—his edge over every shinobi he had faced—was being dismantled piece by piece.
And Ay knew it. The younger Raikage pressed harder, his laughter echoing. "What's wrong, Yellow Flash? Not so fast without your toys?"
Minato's eyes narrowed, sweat forming at his temple. He had one final option: placing seals mid-battle, etched from his hands onto surfaces, but each mark required precision, chakra, and time. Seconds too long against Ay. He would need to bait him, to risk everything.