Chapter 59 – All Quiet on the Western Front (Part 5)
The Mokuning Dam was one of Konoha's most vital pieces of infrastructure. It controlled a great river that flowed through numerous Fire Country villages before running straight into the Land of Rain.
The Rain-nin wanted to destroy it—but they couldn't use a Tailed Beast Bomb. That would send floodwaters downstream into Rain territory as well.
No, this had to be controlled demolition—planned explosions that would flood only the Fire Country.
Of course, what they wanted even more was to capture the Mokuning Dam. That way, they'd hold Fire Country's lifeline in their own hands. Otherwise, whenever Konoha felt like it, they could simply cut off the water supply—something Hanzō had long grown sick of enduring.
Shimura Narukage felt it in his bones—tonight was not ordinary. First, communications from across the dam went dead. Then came the sudden appearance—and just as sudden disappearance—of the Six-Tails.
Explosions thundered in the distance. Rain poured from the sky. In the forests of Fire Country, mud and flame alternated in a chaotic rhythm.
And yet… none of it had touched him.
It was absurd, but true: the Rain-nin hadn't come for him yet, and Konoha's reinforcements were still on their way here.
"Damn nonsense…"
Slamming his pencil down on the map, Narukage pieced the situation together. His comrades were likely already eliminated in surprise attacks, while the Rain-nin had intercepted Konoha's relief forces.
But how many enemies had come? Was Hanzō himself here? And beyond the Tailed Beast, what other cards did they hold?
The battlefield was chaos. His allies were being beaten down. Yet Narukage… couldn't move. Dare not move.
Frustrated, he threw open the flap of his tent and walked toward the outpost gate.
Under the flicker of torchlight, a single masked ANBU figure appeared—Hanegawa. He looked injured, alone.
"Hanegawa? What happened across the river?"
Narukage recognized him instantly. Same clan. A trusted right-hand to Lord Danzō. They were on good terms. He knew Hanegawa had been assigned to Uchiha Jōka's post—so his first words were to ask for a report.
Anxious, Narukage used Shunshin to close the distance, grabbing Hanegawa and pulling him inside the camp. Around them, several Shimura clan ninja rose from the fireside and bowed.
A kunai slid silently from the wide sleeve of Hanegawa's robe.
"Hanegawa, thank goodness you're here. I've been completely in the dark…"
The words cut short. A sudden coldness bloomed in his back. He looked down—there was a kunai jutting from his chest, as if it had always belonged there.
"Hanegawa… you—?"
He never finished the thought. Only two syllables made it out before the blade twisted hard, driving deeper. And with that, Shimura Narukage went to meet the ancestors of the clan.
The surrounding shinobi stood frozen. The human mind has a buffer when confronted with something that defies all logic—a moment where it tries to "correct" what the eyes are telling it.
And right now, what they saw was impossible.
Hanegawa, killing Narukage? Why? For what?
They didn't react. But Hanegawa's hands moved like dancing butterflies, seals flowing faster than their eyes could follow.
"Lord Hanegawa… why?"
A Chūnin from the Shimura clan had seen everything. He swallowed hard, bitterness in his throat. His mind was the quickest to catch up—Hanegawa had just killed Shimura Narukage. But he also understood exactly what those hand seals meant.
"Why?"
Hanegawa's hands stilled. His cold eyes shifted toward the clansman. Beneath the ANBU mask, his weathered face no longer had the capacity for expression.
"To stay alive."
It was almost generous—offering an answer so the man could die knowing why.
Hanegawa's palms clapped together, fingers locking tight.
"Earth Release — Earth Flow River!"
The ground surged to life, yellow soil heaving upward as if animated by some will of its own. Under the flood of Hanegawa's chakra, the earth roared, splitting the camp in two.
From the center outward, a tidal wave of mud and stone erupted, ripping across the compound like an inland tsunami.
Inside the camp, countless shinobi never had the chance to react—they were buried in an instant. Outside, a few lucky ones escaped the surge, but none understood what had just happened.
When it was over, Hanegawa stood at the epicenter without a flicker of emotion. He made one last seal and vanished.
This was his "offering" to Senkiri Ryōsuke. Not an order—something he'd chosen to do himself.
Hanegawa had no intention of starting over as an ordinary jōnin in the Rain Village. He was old, and all he wanted now was a comfortable post, a quiet retirement… and enough money to keep him in sake at the izakaya.
After a lifetime of war, was it too much to ask for a little enjoyment in old age?
---
The forest lay in near-total darkness, the moon spilling pale light across the canopy. Senkiri Ryōsuke sat on a branch, legs swinging like a child's on a swing.
He knew plenty of eyes were watching this battlefield. Underground, several pairs. A few kilometers away, another set.
The shinobi world had no shortage of schemers—all eager to swoop in and claim the fisherman's prize.
He idly counted on his fingers. Along the forest's edge, he had set up secret detection techniques—if Konoha shinobi approached, he would know.
On the branch beside him, Yahiko and Nagato stood together, expressionless. With a commander like Senkiri, all they had to do was follow orders.
"They're here."
At the forest's boundary, a blood-red eyeball burst into a cloud of scarlet mist. Chakra rode the drifting haze, inhaled by several passing Konoha ANBU.
The Chūnin among them stiffened—something was wrong.
Senkiri formed a single seal.
An instant later, those who had breathed in the red mist exploded—just like the eyeball—into gory fragments. Blood and flesh splattered the ground, a crimson rain hanging in the air.
Ren turned his head, his single-tomoe Sharingan flaring open. Ever since his last mission, he'd had special contact lenses made—now he could activate the dōjutsu without giving himself away.
Through the whirling tomoe, the carnage changed. Threads of scarlet chakra rose from the shredded bodies, drifting along the suspended droplets of blood, seeking to infect more Konoha ANBU.
His pupils narrowed. A jutsu… that could spread? He'd never even heard of such a thing.
"Don't go near it! Everyone—back!"
Ren barked at the shinobi closest to the grisly scene. If that red chakra entered their bodies… who knew if they would explode as well?
Namikaze Minato's eyes widened as he peered at the field of flesh and blood—but to him, it looked like nothing at all.
There was no helping it. With and without "special lenses," shinobi were playing two different games. And the Uchiha? We played our own.
"Kawa-kun…"
A female ANBU, seemingly deaf to Ren's warning, drifted toward one of the bloodied remains in a daze.
Ren saw it—one thread of scarlet chakra, leaping like a bloodsucking leech through the air, aiming straight for her.
Boom!
Ren didn't move. Minato did. Closer and faster, he lashed out with a sharp kick, sending the woman sprawling, then vaulted away in a long leap.
He didn't know what Ren had seen—but from past experience, it was better to trust him first.