Chapter 58 – All Quiet on the Western Front (Part 4)
"There's chakra in the rain. The Rain-nin have made their move."
Perched in a tree, Inuzuka Gaku—an expert in chakra sensing—delivered the grim news to his companions. He was temporarily covering the scouting post in place of Hyūga Haining, who was away mourning his uncle.
Minamoto Ren let the rain drum against his Hannya mask. His striking eyes betrayed no surprise; he had sensed something wrong the moment the first drops fell. Winter in the Land of Fire wasn't the rainy season. This rain made him think of only one thing—
Rain Tiger at Will.
That jutsu, so iconic in the stories, was the tool that allowed Pain's Deva Path to monitor all of Amegakure. It was thanks to that technique that he discovered Jiraiya—and ultimately caused his death.
But why would the Rain-nin cast it now? The range was huge, yes, but the sensing was coarse—barely enough to detect an incoming enemy. What else could they hope to glean from it?
An ambush? Some deeper scheme?
Could they even pull that off? Would Hanzō himself have come? That would mean abandoning the safety of Amegakure.
Questions crowded Ren's mind. Beside him, Namikaze Minato—wearing his sun-pattern mask—was tilting his head in thought as well, though from the way his eyes narrowed, he was likely pondering what name to give this rain technique.
Ren shook the thoughts away. Whatever the Rain-nin were plotting, Konoha held the advantage—more soldiers, stronger force. Any ambush would be shattered head-on.
Reaching the designated location was what mattered now—protecting the dam, preventing the Rain-nin from sabotaging it, and avoiding catastrophic damage to the Land of Fire.
He looked up to the front of the column. Hatake Sakumo—"White Fang"—was already far ahead. His speed wasn't just in shunshin bursts; it was in the very way he moved.
Perhaps White Fang had some latent space-time affinity, but his clan's kenjutsu paired so perfectly with his speed that he had no reason to change.
A true Kage-level shinobi… this was the first time Ren had been on a mission under one's direct lead. The so-called "Three Legendary Sannin" could barely match that title. White Fang, however, was the real deal—tempered in ANBU.
Then—the rain slowed for an instant. Sakumo stopped, raised a hand to halt the unit, then unclenched his fist—a signal to scatter.
Ren didn't understand… until he did.
Ten kilometers away, Utakata had already completed his transformation into the Six-Tails.
His deal with Hanzō was simple: one Tailed Beast Bomb, one million ryō—hit or miss, the payment was his. And with that much money on the line, why wouldn't he fire?
Guided by Rain Tiger at Will, the Tailed Beast Bomb could strike from range—a deadly combination.
In the far distance, the Six-Tails loomed into existence like a pale, slug-like mountain, jaws gathering a dense, black sphere of chakra.
Black—the color of danger, oppression, death.
The air thickened. Insects fell silent. The forest stilled. All the world seemed to hold its breath for the coming messenger of destruction.
Run. Run now!
Ren's heart raced, his mind flashing back to the time he was hunted by the Seven Ninja Swordsmen. He flooded his legs with chakra—one shunshin, then another.
The Rain-nin have a Tailed Beast? When did Hashirama hand that out? Was there a memo I missed?
He gritted his teeth and sprinted with his squad, doing everything to evade the impending blast.
In that same moment, as the Konoha forces scattered, Sakumo locked onto the Rain-nin's position via the trajectory of the Tailed Beast Bomb. Even he was taken aback—Amegakure had managed to recruit the Six-Tails' Jinchūriki from Kirigakure.
But the weakness of a Tailed Beast host… lay in that first word—host.
Even in Tailed Beast form, losing a limb could force a Jinchūriki back to human shape. And Hatake Sakumo—White Fang—was the fastest blade there was.
The black Tailed Beast Bomb tore across the battlefield, plowing the earth and carving a smoking highway through the forest.
Sakumo shot past the still-glowing sphere, one hand on his sword, the other flashing through seals, his speed like a streak of silver rain toward Utakata's position.
No sooner had the first bomb detonated than Utakata began forming a second. Chakra wasn't exactly scarce for a Tailed Beast, and Hanzō was paying well—one million ryō per shot. The nearby Rain-nin were already counting aloud.
But then—hidden inside the Six-Tails—Utakata shivered. An icy dread clawed up his spine. Against his will, the Six-Tails stopped charging the bomb, abandoned its transformation entirely, and reverted to human form.
Coming straight at him was the White Fang's killing edge, cold enough to freeze the marrow.
"Shit, you—!" Utakata swore, barely managing to swap himself with a pre-set wooden log. He'd already guessed that Konoha's reinforcements would be led by Sakumo, and as an imperfect Jinchūriki, he had no illusions: against White Fang, fleeing was the only viable move.
Besides—this was part of the job. One of Hanzō's conditions had been to lure away Konoha's field commander.
Task complete. Now all that was left was to shake Sakumo and go collect payment.
Utakata's lips curved in a smirk as he locked eyes with the White Fang's empty slash—then turned and bolted.
Sakumo paused only a heartbeat before giving chase. He couldn't afford to let a Jinchūriki go; a single fresh Tailed Beast Bomb could slaughter half their forces.
Back at the impact site, the Konoha ANBU were regrouping. The first blast had killed over a dozen chūnin; the jōnin had escaped with their lives. But now, with the White Fang gone… there was no one in command.
ANBU glanced at each other, then turned their eyes toward two figures: the masked Hannya and the sun-masked Minato.
By rank, both were jōnin, and both tied to the Hokage's circle.
By experience, both had led ANBU squads before—Minato filling in for Hyūga Ganghachirō, and Ren long established as a team captain.
In this situation, there was no one else to take over.
"Bury the fallen. Teammates carry their masks. We keep moving toward Mokuning Dam."
Minato's voice cut clean through the rain. The ANBU looked to Ren; he gave no objection, so they moved as one.
Ren, however, had other priorities. While the squad dug shallow graves, he climbed the tallest tree and peered in the direction Sakumo had gone.
At this range, even his eyes saw nothing—so he activated his Sharingan.
The horizon was eerily still, save for the long, gouged scar the Tailed Beast Bomb had left in the earth.
He waited. Patiently.
After nearly a minute, movement—a black speck with white tendrils rising into the air. Utakata. His weapon was a war fan, ill-suited for close quarters, and in their earlier clash he had nearly lost his head to Sakumo's blade.
Only by leaping skyward—springing off the Six-Tails' tails—could he keep escaping into the air.
But Ren wasn't watching him. He was waiting for something else.
On the ground below, Sakumo stood expressionless. The chakra blade in his hand shimmered like liquid light. His legs coiled, cracking the earth beneath him.
Shoom!
A white arc tore into the sky, piercing the clouds like a mountain peak breaking free. The storm above twisted and scattered around its path.
"…That's basically Superman," Ren muttered under his breath.
Whether Utakata had survived, he couldn't tell. But judging from White Fang's sheer destructive power—if Ren had been on the receiving end, there'd be nothing left of him but fragments.
The distance to Kage-level… was still a long road ahead.