From the crest of the hill,
Five more Tailed Beast Balls with each no bigger than a baby's fist, launched from Kushina's chakra-cloaked form.
Even in this half-transformed state, the sheer speed of her attacks was staggering; only the complete Nine-Tails could normally unleash so many in such a short span.
They arced downward, hissing through the air before striking the remnants of the Kirigakure camp. Five simultaneous blasts bloomed into mushroom clouds, tearing through tents and earth alike.
The shockwaves flung Mist shinobi like leaves in a storm, and panic spread faster than fire in dry grass. Many ran with such desperation it was as if they wished for extra legs.
Kushina's chakra flared again as six tails whipped violently behind her, and her breathing grew ragged. The clarity in her eyes wavered, slipping into the Nine-Tails' hunger for destruction.
"Enough, Kushina!" Minato's voice cut through the roar. Standing at her side, his gaze was firm but urgent. "They've already broken. Leave the rest to us."
Her crimson aura trembled. Slowly—haltingly—she began to suppress the beast within.
Minato's hands blurred through seals, layering his own chakra over hers, sealing away the worst of the Kyuubi's rage. Only after a long, grinding effort did the dark-red cloak recede, revealing scorched skin and exhaustion.
A blur of movement signaled the arrival of Tsunade, Orochimaru, and Jiraiya.
Tsunade was at Kushina's side in an instant, vibrant green light blooming from her palms as she began treatment. Burned skin knitted, the harsh trembling in Kushina's muscles easing by degrees.
Orochimaru's lips curved faintly. "Heh… seems your disciples and sister-in-law didn't even need us, Jiraiya."
"You underestimate them," Tsunade said without looking up. "You should have more faith."
Jiraiya's brow twitched. "That's enough out of both of you," he growled at Orochimaru.
The Sannin only chuckled and fell silent.
"Leave her with me," Tsunade said at last, her tone brooking no argument.
"The three of you push the Mist back. Kushina's done enough damage to cripple their morale, but they still have fight left. If we strike hard now, they'll abandon any thought of holding the Land of Whirlpools and start thinking about peace talks."
Orochimaru, Jiraiya, and Minato exchanged a look, then wordlessly vanished over the ridge.
By the time they reached the battlefield, Konoha's forces had already surged into the shattered Mist camp. Soldiers stumbled past smoking craters, eyes wide at the devastation.
"Was this… us?"
"Did the Mist blow themselves up?"
Only a handful, those who'd felt that oppressive chakra firsthand, understood.
Uchiha Gen was one of them.
A Tailed Beast Ball… nothing else could do this.
"Focus," he called sharply to his squad. "The Mist will fight like cornered wolves. Don't get careless, peace talks aren't worth dying for."
"Understood, Captain!" replied Kurenai, Tokuma Hyūga, and Asa Hirakuni without hesitation.
The Mist were retreating fast, but not all would escape.
Konoha's chunin and above quickly overtook stragglers, mostly genin, turning the chase into a grim slaughter. Against kage-level, elite jōnin, and battle-hardened chunin, the young Mist shinobi had no chance.
Within minutes, over a hundred Mist genin lay dead, their lifeless eyes staring at the sky. Cruel, yes—but each death bought precious seconds for their comrades to flee.
Ten minutes later, Gen noticed a change.
"We're running into more and more chunin," he said, slowing. "You three stay here. Hunt in pairs and clear this area. You're running low on chakra, and if you follow me, I'll have to protect you."
The three nodded, warmed by his concern. None of them doubted his safety; Gen's record spoke for itself.
With a final nod, Gen blurred forward alone, covering ground like an arrow from a bow. Within half a minute, he'd caught sight of a four-man Mist squad. They split the moment they saw him, fleeing in different directions.
Gen locked onto the one who moved like a leader.
The Mist-nin glanced back, saw the Uchiha closing, and stopped running. Shuriken whistled through the air, Gen sidestepped them with ease, his two-tomoe Sharingan spinning.
The Kusanagi sword darted forward and then, in an instant, the blade extended unnaturally.
Startled, the Mist-nin aborted his hand seals and twisted aside.
Gen's lips curved. He shifted mid-strike, turning the thrust into a slash in perfect timing, catching the enemy midair with nowhere to land.
Slice.
The blade passed cleanly through; yet no blood spilled. The body dissolved into water.
The Hōzuki clan, Gen thought, already moving.
A bead of water shot toward his forehead like a bullet; he tilted his head, letting it pass, and pressed forward.
Fire chakra surged into his palm, wind chakra into his lungs. He exhaled sharply, feeding the flames, until golden-white fire roared along the Kusanagi's edge, warping the air.
Lightning would have been ideal against the Hōzuki's water form—but overwhelming heat could work just as well.
The Mist-nin, Hōzuki Yūzō, froze for a fraction of a second, recognizing the danger. His fingers snapped into a pistol shape.
Water Iron Cannon: Double Drill!
Two compressed water bullets screamed toward Gen's head and heart. Fast, but not faster than the Sharingan's gaze. Gen slipped between them and closed the distance.
This Wind-Flame Sword was his own creation, inspired by Asa's Vacuum Sword. It wasn't perfected as the flames couldn't leave the blade, and extension weakened the heat—but it was still deadly.
Yūzō drew his own blade, wrapping it in churning water chakra. The two clashed.
Hiss... clang!
Steam burst where the flames met the water, then sparks as steel struck steel.
A deep notch appeared in Yūzō's sword; nearly half its width gone.
The Kusanagi was already razor-sharp, but with wind chakra enhancing its edge and fire adding raw destructive force, its bite was savage. Yūzō's technique and weapon quality were impressive but not enough.
His Heart started sinking, Yūzō disengaged. A broken sword against an Uchiha swordsman was suicide.
He fought defensively, throwing in sudden Water Iron Cannon shots to keep Gen at bay. Gen, for his part, didn't press illusions yet, the Mist-nin's skill made for excellent practice.
Then Gen smelled it. Salt. Brine. The sea was close.
Yūzō smelled it too, and hope flared. If he reached the water, he could vanish.
His hand dipped into his pouch and came out with a smoke bomb.
No time for seals. Just a chance to disappear.