"The three clans—Katori, Shiraishi, and Yamada—obey my command! The river's ours. Push forward! Kill every last one of them!"
Katori Mai's voice tore through the din of battle, raw and furious. His men surged from the upper stream, charging through the muddy waters toward the Water Village where the Kaguya held the line.
By the time the allied ninjas of the three clans reached the riverbank, the Kaguya defenders were already faltering. The enemy's formation crumbled, their once-fortified village collapsing under the pressure.
The Kaguya commander stood amid the chaos, jaw tight, eyes full of disbelief. He recognized these faces—the clans from upstream. Once, the Kaguya had bullied them, treated them like livestock. Now those same "livestock" had returned, teeth bared.
He cursed under his breath. The three clans knew this terrain too well—their lives depended on the river. Every ripple, every current, every trick of the water belonged to them. What was death to others was home to them.
"The three clans dare defy the Kaguya?! They challenge our honor—then they'll drown in their own blood! Kill them all!"
He roared, his chakra flaring white-hot. Bone spurs erupted from his arms as he leapt into the fray like a living battering ram. The first wave of enemy shinobi barely had time to scream before their bodies were shredded into grotesque pincushions.
But even monsters bleed.
The Kaguya had only a hundred defenders left to hold the river. The tri-clan alliance numbered five hundred strong. Outnumbered five to one, every Kaguya kill cost them another comrade.
"Damn it all!"
The commander's blade carved arcs of blood through the mist, his bone armor cracked and slick with gore. Dozens fell to his strikes—but his rampage drew attention.
"Target the commander," Katori Mai ordered coldly.
Three elite Jōnin from the allied clans moved to surround him. The Kaguya leader's eyes narrowed; a bead of sweat rolled down his face. He knew what this meant.
He didn't hesitate. With a growl, he spun and tried to break through—but the trio closed in. Their coordination was flawless, three deadly predators boxing in a wounded beast.
Steel met bone.
Moments later, the Kaguya commander fell, impaled through the chest. Katori Mai wrenched his blade free, severing the man's head with a single brutal stroke.
"Commander Kaguya is dead!" he bellowed, holding the blood-soaked head aloft. Chakra surged in his throat, amplifying his voice across the entire riverbank. "Victory for the Three Clans!"
A roar erupted from the tri-clan warriors, drowning the air in the sound of triumph.
The remaining Kaguya, leaderless and bleeding, were overwhelmed. One by one, they fell beneath enemy blades, their defiance swallowed by the muddy current.
The screams didn't stop until dawn.
When the sun rose, the battlefield reeked of iron and decay. The water ran red, the village half-submerged in corpses. Every Kaguya defender lay dead. The Upstream River belonged to the three clans now.
Katori Mai raised his head toward the sky, voice hoarse but victorious.
"Three-Clan Alliance… victory!"
"Victory! Victory!" echoed hundreds of voices.
June 17th. A day that should've meant nothing.
The war between the Kaguya and the Amamiya coalition raged on, each battle carving deeper wounds into both sides. Yet today, the Kaguya suffered a blow they couldn't afford.
At dawn, a shout split the silence in the Kaguya camp.
Kaguya Takemoto, the clan's strategist, turned sharply. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice low and dangerous.
"…Say that again."
The messenger trembled. "T-The Katori tribe attacked the Upstream River last night, Takemoto-sama. It's… it's fallen."
Takemoto's face went pale. His hand twitched as if to draw a weapon, then he simply waved weakly. "Go."
When the messenger retreated, Takemoto sank into thought.
The situation was dire. They'd already lost Kasebi Ridge and half their standing force. The Kaguya's numbers had dropped below a thousand—barely matching the Amamiya coalition. And now the Upstream River was gone too.
If the tri-clan alliance fortified that position, they could strike directly at the Kaguya homeland. To defend it, Takemoto would have to split their forces even further.
His nails dug into his palms. "The Kaguya need a decisive victory," he muttered, his voice trembling with exhaustion and fury. "If we lose again… we'll be erased from history."
Meanwhile, in the Amamiya camp across the forest, Amamiya Raizen was laughing.
News of the river's fall reached him at dawn.
"The Kaguya lost both flanks," he said with a grin. "Perfect. Now we cut out their heart."
His chakra flared faintly, like a storm beneath the skin. For Raizen, this wasn't just war—it was strategy, survival, and vindication. The reincarnator's instincts whispered one thing only: finish them while they're weak.
He turned toward his sub-commanders.
"Ready the troops. It's time we teach the Kaguya what despair really feels like."
The night sky still smelled of blood.
...
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