The dawn over the Antama Mountains looked like an open wound—black smoke twisting up from the valley, the smell of blood clinging to the mist. After a night of brutal fighting, both sides were ghosts of themselves.
The Tōjū Alliance had fallen back into the valley, trying to hold the line with half their men gone. Three thousand dead in one night. Their commander, Tōjū Masaki, was struck down by Hyūga Tennin himself, leaving a deputy to keep the remains of the army from tearing itself apart.
By sunrise, messengers had already run to every clan allied with the Tōjū. Not one had returned. Not one clan had answered. The silence said everything.
Inside the Konoha camp, Hyūga Tennin stood before a war map, discussing the next move with his lieutenants when a panicked scout burst through the tent flap.
"Hyūga-sama! Urgent message from the front!"
Tennin's eyes narrowed. A man didn't barge into his command tent without reason.
"Speak."
The messenger knelt and held out a blood-stained scroll. Tennin took it, unrolled it in one motion, and his lips curved into a grin that made the entire tent fall silent.
When the others exchanged uneasy glances, Tennin tossed the scroll across the table. The lieutenants read it, one after another, and each froze in disbelief.
"…This can't be real," one finally muttered. "Raizen-sama wiped out every single Tōjū clan settlement?"
Tennin's grin turned sharp. "Fake? He left nothing to fake. Every last one of their compounds—gone. Their lands are ash."
He turned to the trembling scout. "Pass the order: if any stragglers from the Tōjū Alliance try to send messages into the valley, let them through. Don't stop a single one."
The scout blinked. "Let them in, sir?"
"Exactly." Tennin's voice was calm now, almost amused. "I want them to deliver the news themselves. Let's see what happens when those proud fools learn their homes no longer exist."
The scout saluted and vanished.
"Now," Tennin murmured, eyes glinting behind the curtain of smoke, "let's see if they still want to fight for a future that's already burned."
Meanwhile, deep in the mountains, a ten-man recon unit from the Tōjū Alliance stumbled through the mist. One of them clutched a crumpled letter, tears streaking down his face.
"Renka, stop crying," their captain said, voice cracking despite his effort to stay steady. "We have to deliver this message. There are still three thousand men in that valley—they need to know."
Renka looked up, eyes hollow. "And then what? Our families are gone! What are we even fighting for now? We told them we couldn't beat Konoha, but no one listened! Now we have nothing—no home, no children, nothing!"
His hands shook, nails digging into his palms until blood dripped onto the dirt.
The captain sighed, the weight of loss making his armor feel twice as heavy. "Maybe so. But the men still trapped down there need to choose—fight or surrender. They deserve that much."
They moved carefully through the mountain pass, but strangely, the usual Konoha patrols didn't appear. The captain noticed it first.
"They're letting us through…"
Realization dawned like frost creeping up his spine. "They want us to pass the message. Damn it, they already know."
Still, he didn't stop. "Fine," he said, jaw tight. "No point hiding. Let's walk straight in."
The Konoha shinobi they passed didn't even lift a kunai—just stepped aside and watched in silence as the messengers trudged into the valley.
When they reached the Tōjū encampment and delivered the news, disbelief rippled through the entire army like a thunderclap.
"Our clans… destroyed?" someone whispered.
The proof was undeniable: burned insignias, broken family seals, the names of dead children written in ash.
Then came the roar.
"Konoha! I will never forgive you!"
Ninjas screamed, blades drawn, ready to charge out of the valley in blind rage—but were stopped by others, faces pale with realization.
"Wait! Think! If we attack, we die here. If we die, that's the end of our bloodlines—forever."
The anger cracked, giving way to despair.
"So we just surrender?" another shouted, voice breaking. "After they killed our families?"
"If we don't, we'll vanish completely," came the reply. "The ones left here are all that's left of us."
The silence that followed was worse than the screaming. One by one, the proud warriors lowered their weapons.
Some knelt, shaking, and whispered they would surrender. Others refused—and slit their own throats rather than bow.
By midday, word reached the Konoha camp: the Tōjū Alliance had agreed to surrender.
Hyūga Tennin stood outside his tent when another messenger arrived, kneeling before him and offering a small sealed note.
"It's from Amamiya Raizen-sama."
Tennin broke the seal and read.
Only one word.
Kill.
The ink was still wet, as if written with blood.
Tennin's fingers tightened around the parchment. His expression didn't change, but a cold shiver rippled through the men standing nearby.
"I see," he murmured, folding the paper carefully. "Then we end this… completely."
The morning mist shifted, and for a moment, it almost sounded like the mountain itself sighed.
...
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