Battlefield of Iwagakure
Because of White Fang's sheer reputation, the pressure here had eased considerably.After all, with the possibility of him dropping from the sky at any moment, the enemy didn't dare push too aggressively.Not that it would've changed the outcome either way.
With a rare bit of downtime, Jiraiya started giving lessons to Minato Namikaze and Kushina.
Inside the camp's makeshift training grounds, wooden dummies stood lined up for practice. Jiraiya sat cross-legged on a boulder, while Minato leaned against it, reading a scroll of jutsu theory. Kushina was busy running drills nearby.
But the longer Jiraiya watched, the more off something felt. He couldn't put his finger on it—it was just weird.
"Jiraiya-sensei," Kushina piped up, sweat still on her brow as she looked over curiously."Who's stronger, you or Lord White Fang?"
Both were elite shinobi commanding the frontlines. Minato's ears perked up too, eager for the answer.
"Me and Sakumo, huh…" Jiraiya rubbed his chin. "Based on our past strength tests… maybe thirty–seventy?"
The tone didn't sound confident. They'd worked missions together, sure, but they'd never actually fought each other.
"Only thirty percent?!" Kushina's jaw dropped.Was it time to switch teachers? Maybe Lord White Fang was accepting new disciples…
"Oi, brat, you looking down on your teacher already?" Jiraiya rolled his eyes. He flexed. "I said seven–three! Seven for me, three for him. No way he beats me that easily."
"Then what about a fight to the death?" Minato asked, still curious.
"In that case…" Jiraiya squinted. "…call it one–nine."
"You're that strong in a real fight?!" Kushina gasped, instantly reconsidering her betrayal.
"No," Jiraiya sighed. "That means I've only got a ten percent chance."
"Pfft! Weak!" Kushina shot back with a pout.
Jiraiya's temple throbbed. Veins bulged on his forehead as he clenched a fist.
"Show some damn respect for your teacher, you little—!"
"Eep!" Kushina yelped, covering her head, looking all kinds of wronged. She just wanted a better teacher, what was so bad about that?
"Jiraiya-sensei," Minato asked thoughtfully, "why's there such a big gap between sparring and real combat?"
"Because I'm a generalist. Sakumo's an assassination-type speed shinobi. I specialize in ninjutsu—he specializes in killing. When it's life or death, the one who kills faster has the edge. And right now, that's him. Cutting through a mountain with one swing… can't really compete with that."
"I see…" Minato mused.
Jiraiya studied him. "Actually, Minato, the path you're on is closer to Sakumo's. You're both speed-based killers—he just has his clan's sword arts, while you're building it out of ninjutsu. If there's a chance, I'll have him mentor you."
Minato's eyes lit up with excitement. Then he suddenly remembered. "Didn't Lord White Fang take on Uchiha Jinzō?"
Jiraiya nodded. Whatever Sakumo was planning, even he wasn't sure.
"Then Jinzō must be thrilled," Kushina chimed in.
Thrilled? Sure. That's one way to describe it.
Uchiha Jinzō vs White Fang
Currently, that "happy" Uchiha Jinzō was chasing Sakumo across the training field, cursing his lungs out.
"You bastard! You're not done with me yet?!"
His blade flashed through the air—but Sakumo only leaned aside, evading without effort. No matter how many slashes Jinzō threw, he couldn't even nick a single strand of White Fang's hair. Even using Shunpo, he couldn't bridge the gap.
The difference between them was absurd.
And then—For the briefest moment, Sakumo's focus slipped. Jinzō's strike landed.
"Boom!"
—Only for White Fang to burst into smoke. A shadow clone.
Every hair on Jinzō's body stood on end. He spun and leapt back, instincts screaming.
There stood the real Sakumo, hands already forming the Tiger Seal.
"Damn it…" Jinzō gritted his teeth, shuddering. He had almost died.
"You're quick to react, Jinzō," Sakumo remarked casually, lowering his hands like nothing had happened.
"What the hell was that supposed to be?!" Jinzō exploded. He'd been about to put in for a transfer back to Konoha—only to get force-drafted into White Fang's squad. Now it was just the two of them. If this was training, it was basically attempted murder!
"Don't talk like some resentful woman who's been abandoned," Sakumo said without blinking. "A man should be the one to make women talk like that. And a real man doesn't let a woman shed tears easily… unless it's in bed."
"Go to hell, you pervy old fossil! Fire Pills—rapid fire!"
Chakra flickered along Jinzō's fingers as glowing blue pellets formed, launching in a volley toward Sakumo.
But the White Fang's tanto appeared in his hand almost instantly, a single sweep slicing through every projectile with surgical precision.
Jinzō snarled, ready to throw another wave of attacks—
"Boom!"
A masked shinobi in gray suddenly appeared between them.
ANBU. Or Root?
The masked ninja ignored Jinzō completely, dropping to one knee before Sakumo. "Lord White Fang. By order of the Hokage, the Kawanobori Defense Line is to be handed over to Lady Tsunade."
Polite, but cold. Definitely ANBU. Root didn't have the authority to meddle in front-line commands.
"Return to the village immediately," the ANBU finished, handing over a scroll. Then—poof. Gone.
Sakumo opened the scroll, reading in silence. The Hokage's seal was unmistakable.
"…They're cutting you out," Jinzō muttered over his shoulder. "Lord White Fang, why don't we just rebel already?"
Sakumo's sidelong glance was enough to make him shut up. Jinzō just tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. Figures.
If you're that strong and not one of their "own," of course the higher-ups would push you aside.
Sakumo, however, kept staring into the distance—toward Sunagakure's direction. With him gone, the Sand would undoubtedly move. So why would Hokage make this call?
"You're coming back to the village with me," he said at last.
"…Hah?!"