Somewhere underground.
"What we know for certain is that Natsuki possesses space-time ninjutsu comparable to the Flying Thunder God," White Zetsu reported.
"It's more than that." Madara's frown deepened.
The space-time technique explained Natsuki's speed of arrival. But how had he known Konan was in danger in the first place?
There had to be a communication method — something instantaneous, something shared between Natsuki and his students. The same pattern had appeared when the Stone raided the Rain's main camp: no advance warning, no preparation, yet Natsuki had materialized within minutes.
All three — Yahiko, Konan, Nagato — almost certainly possessed the same link.
The realization left Madara feeling, for the first time in decades, genuinely blind.
Without eliminating Natsuki first, eliminating Konan or Yahiko was impossible. He'd arrive before the killing blow could land. And even if they managed an instant kill on Yahiko, the man could apparently survive death itself.
"Lord Madara." White Zetsu broke his train of thought. "Among the Stone's reinforcements — the thousand that just arrived — the Four-Tails jinchūriki Rōshi is with them."
Madara's eyebrow rose.
His first calculation: could Rōshi kill Natsuki?
That golden sword strike replayed in his memory — the one that had pierced Susanoo like paper. The impression it had left was visceral, undeniable.
Rōshi alone wouldn't be enough.
Madara sank deeper into thought.
This was the best opportunity he was likely to get. If Natsuki survived this war, the plans would stall indefinitely. And killing Natsuki was, arguably, more valuable than killing Yahiko or Konan. As Nagato's teacher, Natsuki's death would cut deeper than either of theirs.
What if he added a Shadow Clone? He could split one with a larger chakra allocation than the last — enough to fight, not just observe.
And beyond that, White Zetsu.
The vast majority of the collective lacked combat capability — intelligence assets, nothing more. But exceptions existed.
Tobi, for instance. In the original timeline, after possessing Yamato, Tobi had deployed Wood Release: Wood Golem — genuine, devastating combat power.
"Leak the location of Konoha's main camp to the Stone," Madara said.
He'd force a general offensive. When the battlefield descended into total chaos, he would strike — alongside Rōshi, his clone, and whatever White Zetsu assets he could bring to bear.
Target: Natsuki.
One week later. May.
Konoha main camp, command tent.
"The Stone's movements have been unusual." Nara Shikaku's analysis was measured, unhurried. "Their front lines have contracted by roughly ten percent. Multiple forward outposts have been voluntarily dismantled."
"Are they scared? Pulling back?" Nawaki asked.
"If they intended to retreat, they wouldn't have sent a thousand reinforcements last week." Tsunade shook her head.
"If it's not a retreat, it's preparation for a general offensive." Hyūga Hiashi's voice was flat.
"That's the highest-probability reading," Yūhi Shinku agreed.
"Have they lost their minds?" Hyūga Hoheto snorted. "They've been losing since day one."
"If they're willing to commit to a full offensive, they must have something to back it up." Tsunade considered. "A jinchūriki."
The room went quiet. Then, one by one, the jōnin nodded.
A jinchūriki could single-handedly shift a battlefield's outcome.
"Should we bring in the Nine-Tails jinchūriki?" Nara Suzaku asked after a hesitation.
"No need." Natsuki's response was immediate. "We have Wood Release users. A jinchūriki doesn't frighten us."
The tension in the room eased visibly. The logic was irrefutable — Senju Hashirama had captured all nine Tailed Beasts. His weapon had been Wood Release.
"Maintain current operations and observe. Increase reconnaissance to ensure we track the Stone's movements in real time."
"Yes, Lord Natsuki."
"Dismissed."
The tent emptied except for Tsunade and Nawaki.
"Nawaki — keep your missions close during this period." Tsunade's tone left no room for negotiation.
"Sis, I'm not a child anymore. I'll be careful."
"Do as she says." Natsuki's cough was gentle but firm.
Nawaki stared at him.
Since when are you taking her side?
"Tsunade-sensei." Natsuki smiled. "Don't worry. I'll factor it into his assignments."
Tsunade studied him. The two sentences carried a tone she couldn't quite place — as though he were speaking from the position of Nawaki's elder. Not his teammate. Not his peer.
Something shifted in her chest.
"Then I'll leave it to you." She suppressed whatever she was feeling and nodded.
Nawaki opened his mouth, closed it, and chose discretion. One was his sister. The other was technically his superior. Antagonizing either was a losing proposition.
"I'm out. You two enjoy your chat."
He fled at maximum speed.
After Nawaki's departure, an odd silence settled over the tent.
"Is something wrong, Tsunade-sensei?"
"A jinchūriki's destructive range is enormous," she said, finding safer ground. "How do you plan to handle it?"
"Pull him into a separate dimension."
"A separate dimension?" Concern crossed her face. "You'd be fighting alone."
"Does Tsunade-sensei doubt my strength?"
"No." She steadied herself. "Just — be careful."
"I'm fully confident. I don't intend to—"
Her hand came up and covered his mouth before the sentence could finish.
"Don't say things like that." She pulled her hand back quickly. "I'm going. Get back to work."
She turned and walked out.
Outside, Tsunade exhaled.
She'd been acting strangely. She knew it. The awareness didn't help.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the tangled thoughts, and headed for the field hospital. Work would settle her mind.
Time moved forward. July.
The Land of Earth baked under summer heat.
But the temperature wasn't what had climbed highest. The war's tension had reached a breaking point.
Throughout June and into July, the Stone had executed a systematic contraction — pulling back positions, consolidating forces, avoiding major engagements. The most frequent clashes had devolved into intelligence skirmishes between rival sensor teams.
The buildup was unmistakable.
Command tent.
"If nothing changes, the Stone launches within days." Shikaku's conclusion was delivered with quiet certainty. "Their supply lines just received a massive replenishment."
"The only remaining question is whether they've located our main camp." Suzaku added the variable.
"I believe they have." Tsunade stepped forward. "Launching a general offensive blind is too risky, even for them."
"Knowing our position actually works in our favor," Natsuki said, studying the sand table. "It makes their approach route predictable."
"This one." Tsunade traced a line across the map. "Widest corridor, best terrain for maneuvering large formations."
A general offensive was a different animal from the squad-level engagements that defined most shinobi warfare. It tested raw power — no infiltration, no ambush. Thousands of combatants needed open ground.
"Agreed. I'll have the Ryūchi Cave's serpents saturate that corridor." He paused. "The two flanking routes get coverage as well. No gaps."
"Defense plan." Tsunade pivoted.
The discussion ran for two hours. By the end, every jōnin had their assignment, every contingency had been mapped.
"Prepare. Dismissed."
Night.
Natsuki had just returned from Konoha and was heading for his tent when he stopped.
Tsunade was walking toward the perimeter.
He hesitated, then followed.
She glanced back. Saw him. Said nothing. Continued walking.
She stopped at the riverbank.
"Come sit."
He walked over — and his gaze caught.
Tsunade had slipped off her sandals. Her bare feet dangled over the water's edge, pale in the moonlight. She lowered them into the current, and a shiver ran through her at the cold.
"Summer nights and cold water," she said, smiling. "Perfect combination."
"I'll try it." He sat beside her and kicked off his shoes.
"Just get back from Konoha?"
"How'd you know?"
"You smell like Kushina's perfume." Tsunade said it lightly, as though commenting on the weather. "I recognize the brand."
Heat crept up Natsuki's neck.
He couldn't fault her observation. He made the trip every night. Tonight, he'd simply had the bad luck of crossing Tsunade's path.
Tsunade turned her gaze to the water.
She'd caught a second scent, too. Nonou's preferred fragrance.
For a long moment, she didn't know what to think. Her mind drifted to the Fire Daimyō — whose family she'd treated often enough to know his domestic arrangements intimately. Multiple wives. Established practice.
Was Natsuki heading down the same path?
But she couldn't bring herself to criticize. Neither Kushina nor Nonou seemed to object. And ultimately, Tsunade had no standing to comment. She and Natsuki had no relationship of that kind.
So why did the knowledge leave her feeling restless?
"Are you confident about the offensive?" She redirected.
"Yes. The Leaf will win."
"That certain?"
The reason she couldn't sleep tonight wasn't tactical uncertainty. It was fear. Every war took people she knew. The decisive battle with the Stone would be no different. Nawaki. Natsuki. Others.
Casualties were inevitable when forces of equal size collided.
"The battle hinges on the jinchūriki," Natsuki said easily. "Once I handle that, we've already won more than half."
She stared at him.
There it was again. Not confidence in Konoha's strength — confidence in his own.
Coming from anyone else, she'd call it dangerous arrogance. But she still hadn't found Natsuki's ceiling. Until she did, she had no basis to argue.
"If we win decisively, the Stone will sue for peace." She swirled her feet in the water. "When that happens, the merit falls on you. The next Hokage seat is yours."
"Sensei's still young."
"You know Orochimaru." Tsunade was blunt. "Research is his passion, not governance. He took the hat because none of you were ready yet."
"Shouldn't you be backing Nawaki for this?"
"He needs more time." No hesitation. "Making him Hokage now would hurt both him and Konoha."
"Good thing he's not here to hear that."
"If you tell him," Tsunade raised a fist, her expression darkening meaningfully, "you won't enjoy the consequences."
"Your secret's safe with me."
"Better be." She nodded, satisfied, and let the tension dissolve. "This helped. Talking, I mean. It's late — get some rest."
She slipped on her sandals, stood, and walked back toward camp.
Natsuki watched her go, then opened an Air Door.
He arrived at Pakura's house. Deep night. She was asleep.
He slipped under the covers and pressed against her from behind.
Her eyes snapped open — alert, guarded — then her body recognized his warmth and softened.
"Why so late tonight?" She endured the sudden pressure against her chest.
"The Stone kept me busy." He felt her heartbeat through the thin pajama fabric.
The material was loose, practically an invitation.
"The Stone is launching their general offensive within two days."
"Do you need the Sand to coordinate?" Her voice wavered slightly, but the words came out clear.
"No."
"No?" Her breath caught. "Why not?"
From her perspective, this was the ideal moment to crush the Stone completely. Between the Land of Birds and the Land of Earth, over five thousand Stone shinobi were committed. A coordinated strike from both Konoha and the Sand could shatter the Stone's military capacity for a generation.
"Konoha can win alone." He paused. "When it's over, the Stone will likely seek terms. I want the Sand to attack the Hidden Mist."
"The Mist is your next target?" Her hazy eyes sharpened.
"My next target. Not Konoha's."
"Is there a difference?"
"Same as with the Sand."
Pakura went still.
She forced her mind to work through what he was implying — and the picture assembled itself.
He intended to control the Mist the way he controlled the Sand. Through her.
Her lips parted. No words came.
Then his hands moved, and coherent thought became impossible. Her voice dissolved into fragmented sounds, sweat beading across her skin.
Morning.
Breakfast was barely finished when the intelligence arrived.
The Stone had moved. Over four thousand shinobi, advancing openly — no concealment, no subtlety. A general offensive didn't require stealth. It required mass.
Konoha's camp surged into motion.
"MOVE OUT!" Natsuki's voice carried from the camp's entrance.
The column marched toward the designated engagement zone.
Fifteen minutes later, Yahiko, Konan, Nagato, and Amegakure's forces merged with them.
Another fifteen minutes. They reached the position — a mountain pass overlooking a broad, barren expanse of rock and dust.
Konoha and Amegakure's forces arranged themselves across the pass and along the slopes. And waited.
Half an hour.
The ground trembled.
Over four thousand Iwagakure shinobi crested the horizon — a wall of bodies stretching across the wasteland.
Natsuki swept his gaze across the formation and found his targets immediately.
Kitsuchi — dead center, commanding.
Rōshi — beside him.
No speeches. No posturing.
Both sides attacked.
The air screamed as thousands of ninja tools launched simultaneously — a dense, shrieking barrage from each direction. Behind the projectiles, hands flew through seals. Chakra fluctuations warped the atmosphere like heat shimmer.
"Shizune."
Tsunade's call was calm. Both she and Shizune activated the Summoning Technique in unison.
The earth shook. Katsuyu materialized — enormous, glistening — then immediately fragmented into thousands of smaller clones. Each one crawled onto a Leaf shinobi's shoulder.
Through this network, Tsunade and Shizune could heal every Konoha combatant simultaneously. The Shikkotsu Forest's gift — a battlefield-wide regeneration system.
Steel clashed overhead as both volleys of ninja tools collided mid-flight. Deflected weapons rained down. Ninjutsu followed — Fire, Earth, Wind, Water, Lightning — techniques crashing into each other in a kaleidoscope of destruction.
Then something else entered the battlefield.
Red chakra erupted skyward like a geyser.
Every eye turned.
Rōshi stepped forward. Crimson energy sheathed his body, boiling and seething. Four tails of dense chakra extended behind him.
"JINCHŪRIKI!"
Panic rippled through the Leaf's ranks.
"He's mine."
Natsuki opened an Air Door and stepped through.
He materialized directly in front of Rōshi.
"Natsuki?!" Kitsuchi's recognition was instant. "Kill him!"
Natsuki stood alone, deep inside enemy lines. Thousands of Stone shinobi surrounded him on every side.
Rōshi's crimson eyes locked onto him.
Unlimited Blade Works.
The activation was instantaneous. As the Reality Marble began to pull Rōshi in, a Stone shinobi lunged between them — a human shield, or a last-second bodyguard.
Natsuki didn't hesitate. He pulled them both.
All three vanished.
The battlefield froze.
Kitsuchi stared at the empty space where Rōshi had been standing.
"Space-time ninjutsu?" His stomach dropped.
The Stone's entire strategy hinged on Rōshi. A jinchūriki on an open battlefield was a weapon of mass destruction — one Tailed Beast Ball into the allied formation would have produced catastrophic casualties.
Now Rōshi was gone. Trapped in a dimension only Natsuki controlled.
If Rōshi wanted out, he'd have to go through Natsuki first.
The only thing Kitsuchi could do was trust that Rōshi was strong enough.
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