Itachi stood over the great war table as the room hummed with controlled chaos—maps strewn with markers, messengers slipping in and out, the five Kage clustered like satellites around a single point of light that represented the front lines. The air tasted of ink and iron; the torches burned with a steady, unforgiving light.
Reports arrived in a steady stream. Ichi's fingers tapped through the sealed dispatches, eyes moving too fast for anyone else to follow.
Bad news first: Edo Tensei had been unleashed in force. The enemy had called back the dead—legends and footsoldiers alike—to fight for a single, terrible purpose. The sight of familiar faces walking against us tightened a knot somewhere beneath his ribs. Reanimated shinobi did not feel pain the way the living did; they were relentless, willing to die again and again for orders they no longer questioned.
Worse news: a White Zetsu army rippled across the plains like a spreading blight—massed clones of plant and malice that swallowed battalions whole if attention drifted. Zetsu's numbers and adaptability turned every delay into bloodshed.
Then, the courier's tone changed. "Good news," he said, breathless with relief. "Our frontline holds. Your units—Konoha's new divisions—are performing above expectations. Allied coordination has pushed back a flank to the south. We've sealed key villages from infiltration."
Itachi let that settle for a fraction of a breath and then read the next line: we will likely need you on the field before Madara arrives. The implication was clear—this was not a conflict to be watched from a tower. This was an all-or-nothing war that would be decided in motion, in blood, in the moments when plans met reality.
He inhaled, letting the Perfect Sage Mode steady his pulse and the Master Tactician's edge sharpen his mind. The eyes that had once watched the world burn had learned a new favor: calculation without cruelty, precision without waste.
He called the meeting to order.
"Edo Tensei is susceptible to sealing and soul-binding techniques," he began, voice calm and considered. "But mass sealing is time-consuming and resource-intensive. We must not waste seals on every reanimated opponent. We will prioritize commanders, S-rank threats, and any reanimated shinobi whose knowledge or use will cripple us if they continue to act."
Shisui leaned forward. "Genjutsu can force hesitation in the ranks. If we break cohesion among reanimated units, sealing teams can move in."
"Agreed," Kakashi said. "But Zetsu works differently—numbers and mimicry. They flood weak points and create chaos. We need durable barriers and containment zones to funnel them."
Itachi wrote across the map with swift strokes, the plan taking shape in black ink and red seals. He divided the field into sectors:
• Anchor Sectors: Heavy, immovable forces—Yondaime's veteran regiments, Sakumo's mobile legions returned from the multiverse, and armored units built with alien-forged reinforcements—would hold key chokepoints. These units would not pursue; they would bind the enemy and hold ground.
• Sealing Teams: Small, elite groups (Sakura-led med-researchors adapted to sealing protocols, Tobirama-style technicians) would be dispatched to neutralize high-priority Edo Tensei commanders. These teams carried the village's most powerful sealing scrolls and synchronization tech from our S.H.I.E.L.D. trade—portable dimensional dampers to slow Soul Reconstitution.
• Genjutsu & Disruption Wings: Itachi would lead a rotating cadre of genjutsu specialists—his own squad foremost—tasked with striking command nodes in the enemy ranks. Illusion would be surgical: invisibility, false orders, and bending the enemy's perception for the sealing teams to exploit.
• Containment & Purge: Units trained to handle Zetsu clusters—wood-release anchors, explosive containment, and coordinated air-strikes from allied mobile units—would funnel Zetsu into predetermined kill-zones. Yamato and Sakumo would oversee these operations.
• Rapid Reaction Reserve: A teleport-capable quick response unit—Itachi's Flying Thunder God teams and Kakashi's ANBU—would operate as a surgical scalpel: move, strike, extract.
He set markers where Marvel-world assets could bolster the plan: Stark-forged containment cages for reanimated commanders (specially reinforced and nullified against chakra loops), S.H.I.E.L.D.-provided mobile medtech for field resealing, and intelligence nodes planted by Kabuto and Sakumo in urban areas to detect White Zetsu incubation pockets early.
"Madara will likely watch," Itachi said, meeting each Kage's gaze one by one. "He will probe. He is a strategist—he will not throw himself into attrition needlessly. Our goal is to make his options narrow and brutal. If he commits, we will collapse the seams. If he waits, we must ensure our attrition turns it into his liability."
Onoki muttered about old grudges and misused trusts. Gaara asked where Naruto and Bee should be deployed once their training completed—best kept hidden as strategic trump cards rather than frontline fodder. The Raikage demanded immediate offense. Mei Terumī worried about civilian contamination and long-term ecological damage from Zetsu proliferation.
Itachi absorbed each concern, each demand. He adjusted allocations, prioritized villages, and re-routed reserves. He did not romanticize sacrifice, only recognized its inevitability. The calculus of war was grim: preserve the future by accepting necessary losses now—only the minimum, the precise number.
When the plan was set to a working draft, he sealed the orders and sent dispatches. His fingers moved too quickly for the clerks to follow. The files reached frontlines and sub-commanders: Sakumo's units mobilized, Kabuto's research cell prepared emergency Soul Neutralization Arrays, and Kakashi folded his teams into the Genjutsu cadre.
Before he left the war room, Itachi closed his eyes for a fraction of a breath. He felt the world's sway—Sage energy humming through the soil, the raw drag of life and death tangled across the plains. He tapped into Yin–Yang mastery, preparing a contingency of creation: if a sealing failed and reanimated horrors reformed, he could reconstruct souls into stasis and rebuild them as prisons.
He would not let the dead be used as weapons. He would not let Zetsu overrun the living. He would shape the battlefield to fit his strategy—not to display his power, but to save as many lives as possible.
The war would test every innovation he had bought, every alliance he had forged, and every life he had sworn to protect. It would be a crucible; only a deliberate mind could turn it into advantage.
When he stepped out toward the field, Shisui at his side and Kakashi ready, the plan was no longer ink but movement—hundreds of lives in motion, set to a rhythm he alone could hear.
He did not expect to enjoy the next days. He expected to be precise, merciless when required, and merciful when possible. Strategy would be his battlefield. He would win with minds more than with raw force.
In the distance, thunder rolled—an omen or merely weather, Itachi could not be sure. He tightened the folds of his cloak and walked into the shape of war.