Chapter 64 — All Quiet on the Western Front (Part 10)
Ren led Kakuzu back to the battlefield to assist the Anbu.
Kakuzu's Earth Grudge Fear was, without question, a weapon of mass destruction in large-scale combat. Those eerie, masked constructs of his could unleash ninjutsu in perfect sync, weaving them into devastating combination attacks.
Perhaps Kakuzu wasn't the strongest in single combat — but when it came to mass battles, you could trust him completely.
Yahiko had personally seen Ren and Nagato clash, then disappear into the forest. At the time, he'd been locked in a jutsu duel with Namikaze Minato.
Now, Ren had returned… but Nagato hadn't.
A bad feeling surged in Yahiko's chest. He gritted his teeth, traded two more jutsu volleys with Minato, then pressed his palms together in a hand seal and vanished with a Body Flicker.
Who cared who that strange ninja was beside Ren? This battle was already lost. And when it's time to run — you run.
Ren ignored Yahiko's retreat. In the original story, Yahiko was little more than a background prop — if he wanted to run, so be it.
The priority now was clear — wipe out every last invading Rain ninja, then rush to assist Sakumo Hatake.
"Minato, one more time! Kakuzu, use Wind Release — help me pull off this combo!"
Ren's hands blurred through seals. Minato and Kakuzu caught on instantly, matching his movement, channeling chakra.
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"
"Fire Release: Dragon Flame Song!"
"Wind Release: Pressure Damage!"
The wind-fed dragon of fire roared through the forest, reducing everything in its path to cinders. Any Rain Anbu caught in its sights died screaming, their blackened corpses collapsing where they stood.
Battle between shinobi was merciless. Once top-tier fighters withdrew or fell, the rank-and-file turned into cannon fodder. High-level jutsu killed at a pace no low-rank technique could match.
When the flames finally burned out, Ren drew Jūan. His tall frame cast a long shadow over the moonlit ground.
One Rain Anbu, trembling after watching him obliterate half a squad with a single technique, pointed at him and screamed hysterically:
"Prajna Demon! Murderer!!!"
Shouting like that would only give away your position. Ren ended the noise with a single, effortless slash — the man's head hit the dirt, and a burst of arterial spray stained the Prajna mask red.
His voice had been too shrill — better he take it up with Senju Hashirama in the afterlife.
With Minato, Ren, and Kakuzu joining the fray, the tide turned fast. Konoha's shinobi began driving the Rain ninja into the ground, slaughtering them as they fled through the trees.
In less than half an hour, the Rain forces collapsed entirely, scattering into the dark. Ren ordered several jonin to lead pursuit, while he set off with Kakuzu and Minato toward Sakumo's position.
Elsewhere, Hanegawa had been huddled in hiding for what felt like an eternity, his face pale with fear. He had never expected Konoha to send Sakumo Hatake himself. That man's arrival alone had turned the tide of the battle.
And then there was Ren… and the young Namikaze Minato. How could two brats possess such terrifying strength?
Of course, excuses meant nothing. What Hanegawa's expression really said was:
"I didn't think we could win! If I'd known Konoha could win, I never would have surrendered!"
But it was far too late to take it back. Bound under Ryōsuke's jutsu, Hanegawa now belonged to the Rain — he would never be welcome in Konoha again.
No… I have to help Ryōsuke! Konoha mustn't win — at the very least, Ryōsuke mustn't die!
With that, he tore away the branches that concealed him and body-flickered after Ren's group.
At that moment, Ryōsuke stood in the midst of a sealing field etched with countless curse marks. Blood streamed from the stump where his left arm lay severed on the ground.
Across from him, Sakumo Hatake held his short tantō steady, his ice-cold gaze fixed right over Ryosoke's heart.
"So… you actually managed to get a technique off," Ryōsuke grinned through bloodied teeth.
"And? Besides this turtle shell of yours, what else can you manage?" Sakumo countered.
In the chase earlier, Ryōsuke had raised his hands to weave seals twenty-eight times — twenty-seven had been broken mid-process. The twenty-eighth succeeded… but at the cost of his left arm.
Now, with the protection of his barrier technique, he could stall for a short while — much like Sun Wukong drawing a protective circle for Tang Sanzang. Step outside, and death was instant.
"With both hands? Not a single technique left," Ryōsuke admitted, forcing the words out through the pain.
"But… who said I can only weave seals with both hands?"
Sakumo's pupils tightened. Only now did he notice — Ryosoke's right hand, hidden in his sleeve, had never stopped moving. During their exchange just now, he had already formed fifty… no, sixty seals!
A technique requiring that many seals… would be anything but trivial.
"Go on then," Ryōsuke's grin widened. "Guess the name of this jutsu?"
Ryōsuke's voice rang out, loud and strained.
The "question mark" mask on his face was knocked away by a surge of black tentacles — only to reveal that beneath it, the same question mark pattern remained, etched from writhing streams of curse-script.
His white hair grew brittle, strands snapping and falling away. His teeth, too, began to crumble.
This jutsu… was consuming his very life. All the future Hanzo had promised him — he would never see it.
Ryōsuke's body collapsed inward, twisting into a pulsating mass of black flesh from which countless tentacles erupted, latching onto both himself and Sakumo Hatake.
Sakumo sensed the danger instantly and tried to leap back — but the distance was too small. A tentacle latched onto the right side of his chest, black curse-script flooding in like ink in water, spreading across his torso and arm.
Without hesitation, Sakumo shifted his short blade to his left hand and made the only choice possible: to cut.
He was no master of exotic ninjutsu — faced with something incomprehensible, he would sooner sever flesh than risk corruption.
The strike was swift.
The tainted flesh — blackened torso and arm — was cleaved free in one motion, falling into the tentacles' grasp and being yanked back into Ryōsuke's writhing mass, fusing seamlessly with it.
The technique… was complete.
Sakumo staggered, blood pouring from the gory stump, his face deathly pale — but his eyes never left Ryōsuke, who now crumbled into drifting grey ash.
Sakumo Hatake was a serious man. He had to bear witness to the exact moment his mission was fulfilled.
This battle's objective was to kill every invading Rain ninja and secure the Mokuning from damage. And now… it was done.
"White Fang-sama!"
Ren's trio finally arrived, the scene before them striking them silent.
Ren, especially, froze — Sakumo's right arm, his dominant arm, was gone.
In the original history, this had never happened.
Was this too… a ripple from the fluttering of his butterfly's wings?
"You made it," Sakumo said with a curt nod, not acknowledging Kakuzu's presence in the shadows. "Is every Rain shinobi taken care of?"
Ren stepped forward at once.
"Yes, Sakumo-sama. All Rain ninja are dead; the survivors are being hunted down. It's over.
…I can use medical ninjutsu — let me treat you."
Sakumo listened intently until Ren reached "It's over." Only then did his rigid shoulders ease.
"Good. I'll trouble you for that, then."
Ren immediately knelt and unleashed the Mystical Palm Technique, pale-green chakra blooming from his palms. It was the sole medical jutsu he had mastered under Tsunade's tutelage — Strength of a Hundred Seal was still far beyond his reach.
And then, out of nowhere, Hanegawa appeared behind them.
His eyes first swept over Ryōsuke — now dead beyond any saving — then over the grievously wounded Sakumo, a flicker of malice flashing in his gaze.
But his expression shifted instantly, schooled into a mask of respectful humility, as though he simply wished to report something important to Sakumo.
"Stop."
Minato's cold voice cut him off, forcing him to halt a full ten steps away.
The young jonin's blue eyes were sharp, suspicious. Hanegawa's sudden appearance alone was enough of a red flag — he had been among the first wave sent to reinforce the front, yet somehow, when every other forward shinobi lay dead, he alone had survived?
Something about that didn't add up.