In the heart of the Konoha command tent, Orochimaru, Jiraiya, and Tsunade claimed the head seats, their presence a steady anchor amid the rising tension. Below them sat Mokume Koutou, Yuhi Shinku, and Sarutobi Zhenya, each radiating focused intensity. Kyuushin held his post at Tsunade's shoulder, arms crossed, absorbing the charged atmosphere.
Fresh intel on the Amegakure army's position had hit like a thunderclap, prompting Orochimaru to rally the core team without delay. Jiraiya, fresh from pinning down Hanzo's trail through shadowy reconnaissance, had slipped back into camp just hours prior, his face etched with grim resolve.
"Listen up—this clash decides it all for Konoha versus the Land of Rain," Orochimaru began, his voice slicing through the humid air like a honed blade. "Shatter their main force decisively, and every one of you walks away draped in honors that echo back home."
The words landed with electric impact, igniting a spark in the eyes around the table—shoulders straightening, nods rippling as morale surged like a well-timed chakra boost. Seizing the momentum, Orochimaru pressed on without pause. "Now, let's hammer out the playbook. Once it's locked, we mobilize at dawn—straight into the fray for the knockout blow!"
"Dawn launch? Pushing it a tad hot, aren't we?" Jiraiya rumbled, leaning forward with a skeptical tilt, his massive frame casting a long shadow.
"Hot?" Tsunade snorted, brushing at her rain-slicked sleeve with visible irritation, the fabric clinging uncomfortably. "Speak for yourself—I'm itching to wrap this and bolt. This endless drizzle's driving me up the wall!"
Her frustration drew knowing chuckles from the group; the Land of Rain's relentless downpours had worn on everyone since crossing the border, turning every step into a soggy ordeal. Tsunade's quip about her skin practically sprouting mold under the assault hit home, heads bobbing in shared exasperation—anything to escape the perpetual wet blanket.
With no pushback in sight, Orochimaru dove into the tactical breakdown, his mind a whirlwind of calculated angles. Decisive didn't mean reckless; they dissected contingencies layer by layer—flank exposures, weather variables, Hanzo's wildcard summons—to ensure chaos didn't catch them flat-footed. In battles this razor-close, a overlooked detail could flip victors to casualties in a heartbeat.
Dawn broke under a familiar patter, the sky unleashing another misty drizzle as the force assembled. Kyuushin, Nawaki, and Minato shrugged into their rain gear without complaint, the waterproof cloaks settling over gleaming silver-white ninja armor beneath—a sleek, reinforced set they'd tested during the prior rescue dash.
The Third Hokage hadn't skimped this round, flooding their lines with hundreds of the lightweight suits—enough to armor the entire vanguard, boosting mobility while warding off the elements and glancing blows alike. The trio exchanged quick nods, the familiar weight a comforting edge as they fell into ranks.
Jiraiya prowled the formation, barking counts through the rain, his white mane plastered but unbowed. Tsunade loomed at the rear, arms folded like a sentinel, her gaze sweeping for stragglers. Orochimaru took point, raincoat absent, letting the drops trace rivulets down his pale skin and sleek hair, which gleamed almost ethereal in the gray light—a picture of unyielding poise.
Headcount sealed, Orochimaru gave the signal—no speeches, just motion. The column surged forward, boots churning mud toward the confirmed hotspot a hundred miles out: a head-on demolition of Amegakure's core.
Hanzo had eyes everywhere; their lean, logistics-free advance wasn't news. It gutted his original snare—no supply trains to harry, no prolonged bleed-out to force a stall. Without that leverage, Amegakure's guerrilla edge dulled, leaving them no choice but to meet Konoha blade-to-blade or watch their heartland crumble unchallenged.
At Konoha's relentless clip, the Hidden Rain Village loomed inevitable. Even absent a pitched fight, the optics alone—a foreign army at the gates—would brand Rain defeated in the eyes of watchful nations. Hanzo, pride incarnate, couldn't stomach that humiliation; adaptation meant risking the open field, his hand forced.
The march carved through thickening terrain, the dense rainforest canopy yielding to open plains where visibility stretched endless. Pace throttled back instinctively—Amegakure turf now, riddled with potential pitfalls from crude pitfalls to chakra-laced kill zones that could thin ranks in an instant if vigilance slipped.
Hyuga byakugan users and Aburame insect scouts fanned ahead, their senses probing every shadow and divot for threats. A few miles in, Orochimaru's arm shot up—halt. From their vantage, a distant city's outline shimmered through the haze, intel pegging it as the enemy stronghold.
Commands flew crisp and swift; the formation dissolved into fluid squads, rotations snapping into offensive arrays with practiced efficiency—flankers peeling wide, reserves compact for burst support.
Orochimaru caught Tsunade's eye, a subtle cue she seized without hesitation. Striding forward, she cupped her hands and bellowed into the void, voice booming like thunder over the rain. "Hanzo! Done skulking in the shadows? Show your face!"
The challenge rolled across the flats, defiant and unyielding. Moments ticked by before responses stirred—dozens of figures materializing from the mist-shrouded plain, closing ranks with disciplined menace.
Kyuushin squinted, appraising the newcomers: Amegakure elites clad in heavy plating and breather masks, their stances radiating unshakeable grit. These weren't the ragtag units that folded at first clash; Hanzo's handpicked vanguard, battle-tempered and lethal, a far cry from prior pushovers.
"Hmph! Konoha scraps the bottom of the barrel with you three whelps? Looks like fate's sealed your doom," a voice sneered, Hanzo blurring to the fore in a streak of speed, arms folded imperiously, aura crackling with disdain.
Tsunade's retort fired back like a spark to tinder. "Big words from the has-been who tucked tail through a dozen lost towns—too scared to step up till now!"
Her barb drew a ripple of smirks from the Konoha side; Tsunade thrived in these verbal duels, turning taunts into weapons that stung deeper than steel. Hanzo's composure held, though—no flare of temper, just a cool admission. "Touché—you pierced my veil cleaner than expected."
He pivoted smoothly, eyes glinting with predatory amusement. "But welcome to the trap, isolated and ringed by my legions. Clever enough to see the game, foolish enough to play it?"
Tsunade coiled for another volley, but Orochimaru's grip yanked her back mid-breath. Her eyes flashed as the earth she'd vacated buckled—dozens of explosive tags erupting in a chained inferno, flames licking the air where she'd stood seconds prior.
Chill sweat beaded on her brow, fury igniting. "You sly fox—stooping to backstab tricks like that?!"
Hanzo inwardly cursed the near-miss; the banter had been bait, priming her for the flame array's jaws, but Orochimaru's instincts had spoiled it. Shrugging it off, he swept his arm high—the Amegakure ranks surged into battle stances, weapons glinting.
Orochimaru countered instantly, his order a whip-crack: Engage!
In a blur, Hanzo vanished, rematerializing inches from Tsunade, his signature scythe whipping toward her throat in a deadly arc.
Shock rippled through the lines as Tsunade held— no evasion, just a loaded fist rocketing at Hanzo's core. He faltered mid-swing, then spotted it: a lock of white hair snaring his blade like a living vine.
Releasing the haft, Hanzo body-flickered clear of her punch in a haze of speed. Yanking the chain, the scythe animated under his pull, slicing through Jiraiya's flowing mane before boomeranging back to his grasp—a seamless retrieval that left strands drifting in the wind.
The Sannin encircled him now, a tight triangle of lethal synergy—Orochimaru's serpentine grace, Jiraiya's raw power, Tsunade's unyielding force. Hanzo spun his scythe once, then sheathed it, hands blurring into seals with ominous rhythm.
Alert crackled between the three; thumbs raked across teeth in unison, blood welling as their jutsu synced. Hanzo's gestures peaked simultaneous.
"Summoning Jutsu!"
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