The frontline was unusually quiet that morning—too quiet for a war that had been dragging on for weeks. Shanks sat atop a half-destroyed wooden post, arms folded behind his head, humming something no one recognized. Minato stood near him, tinkering with kunai patterns in the dirt, while the Konoha platoon watched the horizon with a mix of caution and exhaustion.
A faint rumble approached, steady and rhythmic.
Shanks lifted an eyebrow.
"Minato," he said casually, "someone big's coming."
The boy tilted his head. "Enemy?"
"No," Shanks smirked, jumping down. "This idiot walks like he owns the world."
Moments later, a tall figure with white hair and a ridiculous grin strode out of the dust cloud.
"YOOOO! Shanks! You little brat, still alive?" Jiraiya shouted before Shanks even reached him.
Shanks didn't slow—he slammed into him with a shoulder bump and locked arms.
"Aniki! As if I'd die before you."
Several soldiers whispered, staring. Minato blinked three times.
"Aniki…?" he echoed under his breath.
Jiraiya looked down at Minato, noticing the boy for the first time.
"So this is the kid you wrote about?"
Shanks slapped a hand on Minato's shoulder.
"Jiraiya-aniki, this is Minato. Smartest runt of this whole unit."
Minato bowed politely. "It's an honor, Jiraiya-sama."
"Relax, kid," Jiraiya said, ruffling his hair. "If you hang around this red-haired menace, honor is already out the window."
Shanks clicked his tongue. "You say that like it's my fault."
Jiraiya straightened up, expression shifting from playful to serious.
"I came with news. Intel suggests the Third Tsuchikage might appear on this frontline."
The air tightened immediately. Even seasoned shinobi stiffened.
Minato frowned. "T-The Tsuchikage? Why would he come here personally?"
"Because you brats have been causing too much of a mess," Jiraiya replied with a half-smile. "And before you ask—no, the Hokage didn't send a full army. Most heavy hitters went to the Kumo front, others to Sand. And Onoki coming here is still only a possibility."
Shanks snorted. "Aniki, you never bring good news. Never."
Jiraiya shrugged. "War is like marriage, kid. Nobody's happy."
Shanks sighed. "Not even funny."
A beat passed before Minato spoke up, thinking aloud:
"If the Tsuchikage really comes… wouldn't our lines collapse? Why send so few reinforcements?"
Jiraiya tapped his forehead. "Strategy, Minato. You don't pile everything in one spot unless you're certain. And we're not certain yet."
Minato nodded, accepting the explanation, though worry still flickered in his eyes.
----
Campfire smoke curled through the cold air. Several squads chatted quietly around their fires.
Shanks was cleaning his blade.
Jiraiya lounged beside him, scribbling in a notebook Minato kept trying to read.
"Stop leaning," Jiraiya said without looking up.
"I wasn't leaning!" Minato protested, even though he clearly was.
"Well you're too close. I can feel the curiosity burning."
Minato crossed his arms. Shanks chuckled.
Across the camp, a pair of chūnin argued about whose ration tasted more like actual food. Another group gambled with kunai angles. Normal moments—rare ones—before battle inevitably resumed.
The next day.
The ground shook as Iwa launched a fresh assault.
Massive boulders flew overhead, exploding as they crashed into defensive trenches.
"Everyone! Positions!" Jiraiya roared.
Iwa's forces appeared over the ridgeline—armored, coordinated, and far more numerous than expected.
Tsubasa, a Konoha wind-release user, sliced through boulders with compressed blades of air.
Kenta, a taijutsu specialist, kicked an Iwa chunin so hard the man plowed through three others.
Mareko, a medic-nin, dragged wounded soldiers back while yelling curses that would make a sailor blush.
Minato weaved through the chaos—fast, precise. Too small to overpower adults, but sharp enough to strike weak points. Every kunai he threw landed where it mattered.
Jiraiya summoned a toad to disrupt advancing stone troops.
Shanks?
Shanks walked through the battlefield like a storm looking for something interesting.
Whenever a group of Konoha shinobi was about to be overwhelmed, a sudden wave of pressure washed over the area—his Kekkei Genkai pulsing. Iwa soldiers collapsed unconscious, eyes rolling back. Konoha troops felt their knees buckle but stayed standing.
"Damn… that's Shanks?" a Konoha jōnin muttered, stunned.
"Don't stare too long," another whispered. "Or you'll black out too."
Then… everything stopped.
A single wave of heavy chakra pressed over the battlefield.
Everyone—enemy and ally—turned to the sky.
A small elderly man floated down like he weighed nothing.
Onoki.
The Third Tsuchikage.
Shanks didn't move at first.
His jaw clenched.
Just once.
So subtle Minato nearly missed it.
But Jiraiya noticed.
And he understood instantly.
"That guy…" Shanks said quietly, voice stripped of all humor, "…is the one who killed my parents."
Minato's eyes widened.
Jiraiya placed a hand on Shanks' shoulder. "Don't lose yourself."
Shanks shrugged it off gently.
"I won't. But I'm not letting him walk away."
Onoki's gaze swept the battlefield—until it landed on Shanks.
"…You," he said flatly. ".... look familiar."
Shanks smiled.
Not warm. Not kind.
A blade's smile.
"Sorry to disappoint, you don't, old man."
A chunk of earth rose beneath Shanks, exploding. Shanks dodged sideways, sliding across broken ground.
Minato shouted, "Shanks-san!"
Jiraiya stepped forward—but Shanks held out a hand without looking back.
"Aniki… this one's mine."
Onoki floated higher, hands forming shapes.
"You're dangerous, boy. And dangers must be removed early."
Shanks cracked his neck.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
The ground rumbled.
Dust release gathered around Onoki's palms.
Shanks' dark aura surged, the air distorting around him.
And then they clashed.
(This is why we clash!!!! Sorry played too much Clash royal)
Shanks disappeared from sight—reappearing within striking distance.
Onoki dodged mid-air, countering with a precision dust cube that carved a trench into the earth.
Shanks rolled, leapt, and countered with a crushing burst of pressure that made several Iwa shinobi faint instantly despite being far away.
Minato watched, eyes wide, absorbing everything.
Jiraiya's fists tightened.
Boom—
Crack—
Shockwaves tore the terrain apart.
Shanks' blade met Onoki's dust-coated fist, creating a violent ripple through the battlefield as soldiers scrambled to stay standing.
Shanks lunged again—this time faster—while Onoki's hands formed the beginnings of a lethal dust-release construct.
Neither held back.
To be continued…