"Hyūga-sama," a trembling northern defector said, kneeling low before the command tent, "the commander of the Tōjū Clan, Tōjū Masaki, has led six thousand ninja to fortify a defensive line across the Antamon Mountains. If we wish to enter the northern heartlands… we'll need to break through it."
The map spread across the table was covered in black ink — valleys, rivers, supply lines, choke points. Blood-red markers now ringed the mountains like a noose.
Hyūga Tennin's pale eyes stayed fixed on the parchment. Konoha's Northern Expedition wasn't just another border skirmish — it was history's first test of their new village. The Fire Country had to see not just victory, but dominance. To make the world kneel, Konoha's first war had to roar like thunder.
He exhaled slowly.
"Since Tōjū Masaki stands in the Antamon Mountains," Tennin said, his tone iron-hard, "then we march directly into them. Absolute strength — crush them in full view of the Fire Country."
A young jōnin hesitated. "But… Hyūga-sama, such a charge could mean heavy losses—"
"Losses?" Tennin's voice sliced through the tent. "Konoha doesn't need safe victories. We need one so big the world remembers."
"Yes, my lord!"
"By order of Konoha," Tennin declared, "the Tōjū Clan, for defying the peace and disturbing the Fire Country's order, will be annihilated. All divisions advance — target: Antamon Mountains!"
"Yes, sir!"
The camp exploded into motion. Drums rolled like thunder. Tens of thousands of shinobi — banners snapping in the wind — began the march north. The air trembled with bloodlust and burning chakra.
In the Antamon range, word of Konoha's movement reached the Tōjū stronghold by dusk.
"Ten thousand?" Masaki muttered, disbelief creasing his weathered face. "They're actually coming head-on?"
He had imagined ambushes, assassins, infiltration — but this? An open war march? Konoha wasn't posturing anymore.
"Send the order," Masaki barked. "All units to their positions! Scouts, report any movement immediately. Traps and barriers are to remain sealed until my command!"
"Yes, sir!"
As the last light faded, the Antamon Mountains fell silent — too silent. Beneath the earth, hundreds of hidden detonating tags waited.
Three hours later, a scout appeared, breath ragged.
"Report! Ten thousand Konoha shinobi under Hyūga Tennin are advancing fast — less than a hundred miles from our position!"
"Continue reconnaissance," Masaki said. "Have all coalition troops prepare for battle."
Two more hours passed. The wind sharpened to a blade. Torches flickered, shadows dancing across helmets and armor.
"Report!" another scout cried. "They're within ten miles! Hyūga himself leads them. Our forward units are retreating!"
Masaki exhaled, fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade. "Then it begins. All units, to positions. We hold here or we die here!"
"Yes, Commander!"
Ninja dove into trenches, kunai drawn. The traps were primed — explosive seals buried beneath the soil, lines of wire hidden in the frost.
"They're coming…"
Masaki squinted into the crimson sunset.
Black figures swept across the ridgeline like a tide of shadows, closing in faster than any normal army.
A bead of sweat trickled down his neck. "Ready to attack."
His hand trembled. He'd fought in wars since childhood, but facing Hyūga Tennin — the Byakugan General — with ten thousand soldiers behind him was something else.
When the first ranks came within sight, Masaki roared,
"Fire!"
From the trenches, thousands of kunai screamed through the air, followed by detonations erupting beneath the snow.
"There's a minefield ahead!" Tennin shouted, his Byakugan veins bulging. "Earth Release, forward! Water Release, neutralize those seals!"
"Earth Style: Great Flowing River!"
The front-line earth users slammed their palms down, turning the frozen ground into flowing mud. Detonation tags burst up from beneath, useless.
"Water Style: Surge Flood!"
A dozen shinobi exhaled jets of water that merged into a crashing wave. The tags were drenched, sputtering out with faint pops.
"Tch. Damn Hyūga eyes…" Masaki hissed, realizing his traps had been undone before the battle even began.
"Fire Style units — attack!"
Dozens of Tōjū nin flung kunai wrapped in papers that fluttered behind them — detonating tags.
"Fire Style: Great Flame Shot!"
Flames roared upward, meeting the storm of kunai midair.
Then —
BOOM.
Explosions blanketed the night sky. Fire rained down like hellfire, swallowing the forest in orange light.
"Defense!" Tennin's voice boomed over the battlefield.
He slammed his palms forward. Chakra exploded outward, forming a swirling dome that split the incoming firestorm clean in half.
Behind him, Konoha's defenders moved like a machine — Earth Walls, Water Shields, chakra barriers flaring in sync.
When the flames died, the northern slope was ash and smoke.
Tennin stepped forward, eyes blazing. "Enough."
He vanished in a blur, reappearing near the enemy front, hands forming the pattern faster than thought.
"Eight Trigrams: Gentle Fist Palm!"
The ground detonated with his strike. Chakra burst outward like an earthquake, shredding the ridge. The shockwave tore through trenches, scattering soil and stone.
The Antamon Mountains roared as if the gods themselves had struck them.
When the smoke cleared, the Tōjū defense line was gone — split clean open.
"Now!" Tennin shouted.
Konoha's army surged through the breach, howling, banners snapping. The wolf had sunk its fangs into the mountain.