Inside the medical tent, pale-green medical Chakra swirled in Takuno's palm as he wordlessly staunched bleeding and set bones for the latest wave of wounded.
Yet his thoughts had already drifted past the blood-soaked canvas, carried by memories from a Shadow Clone to the chaos on the front line.
Konoha had scraped a victory this time, but the price was so steep he knew it could never be repeated; what lay ahead was sheer, razor-thin luck.
The whole war now balanced on two brittle fronts.
Eight-Tails Killer Bee versus the Ino–Shika–Chō trio and their Jonin support, Bee's raging Tailed Beast power hung over them like a executioner's blade.
The Nara shadows, Akimichi expansion, and Yamanaka mind-switch were elegant, yet against raw, overwhelming force they trembled on the edge of collapse.
A single heartbeat's slip would turn those Konoha elites to ash.
Shisui versus Yugito on that other front showed the genius hailed as "Shisui of the Body Flicker" was truly formidable.
But speed and genjutsu against a fully transformed Tailed Beast? Victory was anything but certain, and he had to win before Ino–Shika–Chō fell!
Worse, even if Yugito lost, the beast's monstrous stamina and mobility let her rip through the encirclement and flee at will.
Konoha's Ino–Shika–Chō had no such escape route.
As for the clash between Jiraiya and the Fourth Raikage? In Takuno's eyes it had already bogged down into a grinding quagmire.
Jiraiya was buried under the Fourth Raikage's lightning onslaught and the whirlwind strikes of Kumogakure's Jonin; he had no breathing space to weave Sage Mode.
Pulling that off mid-battle would take divine foresight—pure fantasy.
So he had to pin the Fourth Raikage and those elite Cloud Jonin right from the start.
If the Raikage broke free to join another battlefield, the remaining two fronts would crumble—no other outcome possible.
Jiraiya had no choice; even knowing it couldn't last, he had to hold the line.
Maybe he was waiting for one desperate window to enter Sage Mode, but windows like that are never found.
The scales of the war were tipping against Konoha.
Yet this very visible despair kindled a dark spark in Takuno's heart: opportunity.
His gaze stayed cold, the glow of Medical Ninjutsu never wavering as his mind raced, counting seconds.
"Not yet."
He would wait until the Ino–Shika–Chō line was on the verge of collapse and Konoha's command teetered in despair, then step in as the mysterious "Collector" and offer salvation.
"Help me slay the Eight-Tails, and in return I claim a fragment, flesh, a broken horn, a dense orb of its Chakra."
For the Collector, the motive was airtight.
On any other day Jiraiya would spurn a deal from nowhere, but staring at the abyss of annihilation, Konoha would clench its teeth and accept.
Still, Takuno felt he was getting the short end of the bargain.
After all, he'd already traded Orochimaru for one of Killer Bee's severed horns; given time and his own techniques, mass-producing pure Eight-Tails Chakra was no idle boast.
He brushed the thought aside. "Fine, think of it as saving precious weeks of cultivating it."
Time itself is a cost, and the Eight-Tails is second only to the Nine-Tails in uniqueness.
The Nine-Tails' oceanic reserves couldn't be met by mere "drift-collection," which was why he'd personally risked grabbing its core Chakra during the Nine-Tails' attack.
The Eight-Tails, though far smaller, could be cloned from a horn, but skipping the long growth cycle and acquiring a ready-made, high-density chunk was still a bargain.
His thoughts circled back: could he squeeze out more?
Since Konoha was meat on the block, why not wring extra value?
The priceless Scroll of Seals was already his; the coveted Hashirama cells were secured.
As for Sage arts, contracting with Mount Myōboku would shove the identity "Takuno" into the spotlight, which the risk would be outweighing reward.
A flicker of regret ghosted through him.
It felt like staring at a treasure chest already emptied of jewels; no matter the reluctance, this deal would stop at the Eight-Tails item.
A slight loss, yet trading minimal risk for a critical Tailed Beast resource and saved time still tipped the scales in his favor.
Still, he might as well demand a few trifles.
His current funds weren't small, as he had start-up capital seized from the shipping magnate Gato, then another fortune lifted from the wealthy Jonin Haido at the Gelel Stone.
Money itself wasn't the issue.
But coin is never unwelcome; lab materials and precision instruments had to be bought, and Hidden Snow Village couldn't cover everything.
Resorting to force for what could be purchased was a waste of time.
A ghost of a smile vanished behind the fatigue-set lines of his mouth; he refocused on the mangled wound before him.
The battlefield lay under leaden clouds, air thick with the reek of blood and gunpowder despair.
Events unfolded exactly as Takuno had foreseen.
Fourth Raikage Ay's presence injected Kumogakure with fresh steel.
After early horrific losses when Yugito couldn't contain Shisui, Cloud adapted, becoming cunning and cautious.
Whenever Yugito faltered, Cloud forces pulled back like a tide, an iron curtain that slashed ordinary-shinobi casualties.
Their intent was naked: wait for Eight-Tails Jinchuriki Killer Bee to crush the stalling force, Konoha's Ino–Shika–Chō and their Jonin.
Once that wall shattered, Konoha's wobbling defense would implode.
Reality slid toward that brutal end; Konoha's perimeter shrank again and again, a fist forced closed, knuckles bleeding.
Inside the forward command tent, reeking of medicine and dread, Jiraiya clutched the latest casualty report.
The cold numbers stabbed like red-hot needles.
After days of blood, the casualty ratio had flipped, crushing Konoha under its weight.
Each updated death toll made the legendary Sannin feel his heart drip blood, throat clench.
The air congealed; every Jonin at the table sat silent, breathing shallow.
Each breath cost effort; an unseen weight pressed on every shoulder.
All knew the battle teetered on a cliff.
Worse, elite Jonin backing Ino–Shika–Chō against the Eight-Tails had fallen; the line's remaining minutes were evaporating.
Strategy had to change, fast.
Jiraiya's burning gaze swept the battle-hardened faces, settling at last on the quiet Fugaku and the youth behind him, Shisui, keen as a drawn blade.
Voice rough but steady, he ordered: "Deployment changes immediately. Eight-Tails Killer Bee is mine."
Shock rippled through the tent.
He pointed to Konoha's most in-sync trio: "Akimichi Choza, Nara Shikaku, Yamanaka Inoichi—new mission for Ino–Shika–Chō: together, intercept Yugito!"
At last, his gaze fixed like an invisible anchor, locking onto the youth behind Fugaku. "As for the Fourth Raikage Ay—"
No more words were needed; Fugaku could already feel the suffocating weight of responsibility about to descend on the young Shisui.
As clan head, duty and dread tangled within him, and he instinctively tried to shield the boy: "Jiraiya-sama, Shisui's too young! The Fourth Raikage's strength and speed are no joke; that's dancing on the edge of death!"
His every word overflowed with protectiveness toward the younger generation and a deep fear of absolute power.
Yet before Jiraiya could answer, a crisp, unwavering voice sliced through the hesitating air: "Clan head, let me try!"
Shisui straightened his back; in the eyes that had inherited the title "Shunshin no Shisui" blazed a resolve hotter than his years, a determination almost sacrificial.
"I'm confident! I will stop the Fourth Raikage!"
Fugaku sighed and reluctantly closed his eyes.
He knew this once-in-a-century prodigy all too well; that loyalty to Konoha, that readiness to give everything, was etched into the boy's very bones—he had known it would come to this.
Jiraiya stared at the death-defying light in the youth's eyes, and his heartstrings were deeply stirred.
Instead of addressing Fugaku's worries, he spoke with heartfelt emotion: "Clan-head Fugaku, your Uchiha Clan has truly produced an extraordinary shinobi."
In those words lay the highest praise for Shisui's courage and sense of duty, like a pebble tossed into still water, meant to send ripples outward.
Fugaku's thoughts raced.
Jiraiya's remark, coupled with the deep master-student bond between him and Minato, let Fugaku sense a deeper implication.
If this battle succeeded, it would undoubtedly raise the Uchiha's standing in Konoha's high command.
Moreover, with himself and a host of Uchiha elites nearby to support, Shisui's safety wasn't entirely without safeguard—
He seized the opening at once, further paving the way: "Jiraiya-sama flatters us. Truth be told, Shisui is not only the pride of the Uchiha but also the direct bloodline of the Second Hokage's personal student, the renowned Uchiha Kagami. In his veins flows the will to live and die with Konoha!"
"Oh? A descendant of one of my teacher's comrades?" Jiraiya's eyes flashed; surprise written across his face, his gaze toward Shisui now carried added respect for a bearer of the Will of Fire and deeper expectation.
The plan to reshuffle the line-up was settled, yet Jiraiya's mind did not rest.
He quickly re-evaluated the battlefield layout. Choosing the relatively weaker Uchiha to pin down the weakest Two-Tails had been a last resort, yet it had unexpectedly unearthed the shining gem that was Shisui.
The Ino–Shika–Chō trio originally meant to delay the Eight-Tails. Nara Shikaku's wits, Yamanaka Inoichi's sensory skill, and Akimichi Chōza's raw power formed a superb control unit.
Strong though they were, Chōza's expansion lacked the agility to counter the Fourth Raikage's extreme speed; it suited a "bulwark" against a behemoth like the Eight-Tails.
Now that Shisui, a natural counter to high-speed shinobi, had been found, tactics had to change!
The Sharingan's kinetic vision was the perfect weapon against the Raikage's lightning-fast onslaught.
With the seasoned Fugaku himself backing him, an elite Uchiha group at its core should manage to buy time for the other fronts.
The pressure finally rolled back onto Jiraiya: Eight-Tails Killer Bee. The image of that oddball rapping giant floated up, and Jiraiya's heart grew heavy.
A perfect Jinchuriki second only to the Nine-Tails—he knew all too well how terrifying that power was.
Even if he risked his life to enter Sage Mode, at best he might gain a slight edge.
Killing him? Pure fantasy! Worse, Sage Mode required precious prep time—on a fluid battlefield it was little more than a pipe dream.
Outlasting him? Sage Mode's sustainable combat strength could never rival the Eight-Tails' stamina.
A bitter choice gnawed at Jiraiya: should he ask his aged teacher, the Third Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi, to take the field once more?
Yet each time he recalled the scene outside the battlefield—the ever-stooped back, the wrinkle-creased face, the weariness that never left those eyes—
Jiraiya felt a surge of pity and doubt: how much Chakra could that old body still spare from its prime?
Those arms that once whirled the adamantine staff to crush armies—how long could they bear such a cruel war?
Sending a hero in the twilight of life back into carnage was a choice too heavy to make.
But what if he asked no one?
Jiraiya looked around at the young, weary faces that still carried hope.
Konoha's finest were being ground down; the front line was shrinking, almost choking.
Could they hold out until Minato achieved a decisive breakthrough on the Iwa front?
That blond student, Minato.
Jiraiya trusted the name "Yellow Flash" that rocked the Ninja World, believing he could stabilize the Land of Earth front and ultimately lead Konoha to victory.
Yet against the cunning Ōnoki, wielding the terrifying Kekkei Tōta Dust Release, victory would be a long, bitter grind.
For Minato, quick victory was next to impossible.
Harsh reality left Konoha with few choices.
Jiraiya's heavy sigh echoed through the silent command room like a boulder plunging into a deep pool.
Perhaps, to protect what little homeland remained, to buy time for the next generation, the staff of the Monkey King would have to be gripped once more by its aging master, hands etched with the scars of time—
Yet the thought filled him with bitterness and helplessness.
Air in Konoha's council chamber remained leaden; the fierce debate on the war had just been cut short by a sudden knock.
An Anbu Ninja burst in, mask failing to hide the urgency beneath; shoulders rose and fell from rapid movement.
"What now?"
Jiraiya, at the head of the table, knit his brows, voice tinged with vigilance.
He knew the Anbu's sense of propriety, only a dire emergency would let them barge into such a meeting.
Every attendee's gaze snapped to the intruder; the atmosphere froze.
Nerves already taut, the untimely entry strung them even tighter.
Jiraiya's mind leapt to the worst: had Kumogakure reopened hostilities? Yet he heard no expected roar of battle.
"Reporting, my lord," the Anbu steadied his breath, voice low and urgent, "a powerful Ninja wearing a fox mask requests entry to this council—"
Before the words could fade across the chamber, a genderless, languid voice drifted in like mist: "Mm~, the Anbu is quite right."
Boom!
An invisible chill swept the room; every heart lurched.
The voice was right beside them, sounding from inside the chamber—not the doorway!
Heads snapped toward the far end of the long table they had thought safe.
There, lounging in a chair that should have been empty, sat a figure.