Prologue
"A pre-emptive strike? No. I refuse. A direct provocation, an
act of war, at the height of our prosperity - this would be the behavior of warmongers, not peacekeepers. This is not the world the First and Second wished us to create." Sarutobi Hiruzen, gazing out upon his beloved village, slowly turned to face a small council of military advisors. The Third Hokage glowered with disapproval.
The head of the Nara Clan, a young and brilliant mind recently promoted to the elite rank of jōnin, continued his pitch. "My own father perished in the first World War. Don't think for a second that I relish the idea of bringing about another. It is the very height of our prosperity that drives the malice of our foes. We're not stronger than all our enemies combined. But we
could be, if we take the initiative."
"A temporary advantage in exchange for an eternal grudge. And countless lost lives."
The head of the Uchiha Clan spoke next. "What is life but buying time for the next generation to fix the mistakes of the ones who came before them? The bloodshed of another all out war would be even greater. You see the way the winds are blowing. Already, day by day, loyal Leaf shinobi are struck down by hidden foes, as they bleed themselves for the rest of us to live in comfort." Uchiha Fugaku inclined his head to his fellow Clan Head and continued. "Lord Nara has shown us the numbers. The deaths, the disappearances… they're intensifying, not calming. Organized conflict
will come, despite your diplomatic efforts abroad. If they won't listen to reason, then a decapitation strike is our best hope for forestalling another war spanning the Elemental Nations."
The Third Hokage shook his head disapprovingly. "And what makes you so sure-"
A voice from the corner of the room cut him off. "Mito."
A few of the others in the room flinched. Hiruzen merely withheld a strong urge to sigh loudly. Shimura Danzō's eyes regarded him coolly. Hiruzen responded, "The Lady is getting on in her years, I'll admit. But one bad fall doesn't mean-"
"Hiruzen, spare us the political theater, please."
The room's temperature felt like it spiked twenty degrees in an instant, but Hiruzen maintained his calm tone nonetheless. "Ever the diplomat you are, Danzō."
Danzō raised his arms minutely, shrugging ever so slightly. "Sensei picked you for the Hat over me for a reason." A statement he would never tolerate anyone else making.
"If you insist on dehumanizing the whole endeavor, know that we have already procured a viable vessel from Whirlpool, when Lady Mito's time comes."
Lord Nara cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Therein lies the problem, sir. Leaf may have the God of the Shinobi, and the White Fang, and the Silent Crow, and countless other powerful jōnin… but the stability of the Elemental Nations has always depended on its Jinchūriki. The First knew this when he distributed the Tailed Beasts amongst the many nations."
Danzō muttered, "An idiotic decision for which we are still paying the consequences."
Lord Nara tactfully avoided the borderline heresy, and concluded, "A reality we all must live with, at any rate."
Hiruzen hummed thoughtfully, producing a pipe and taking a deep toke. "Hence the desire to buy time."
Lord Nara nodded solemnly. "The weakest Leaf will be for the next several decades… is while the next host of the Demon Fox is adjusting to using its vast power. Our enemies are waiting for news of Mito's passing. For news that the Nine-Tailed Fox has been sealed in a new host. Uzumaki Kushina won't be ready to fully wield that power to defend Leaf for a decade at least."
The Third Hokage turned away from his counsel, gazing back over the Village Hidden in the Leaves once more. To the urban sprawl, bustling with life. To young ninja dancing across the shingled roofs, much to the chagrin of their instructors. To the legacy that the First and Second entrusted to him. To everything and everyone who had ever mattered to him. For the briefest of moments, he saw it wreathed in flame and carnage.
There was no harm in at least mulling the possibilities over, was there? It was Hiruzen's duty to stand between the people of Leaf and whatever horrors the world may hold. And sometimes that duty stood in the way of his own personal interests and dreams. Even those that he inherited from his mentors.
"...continue with your report, Lord Nara."
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Satoru was smirking as he placed his latest stone. Jin sighed. That was never a good sign. As he mulled his defeat, Jin ran a finger over one of the stones in his hand, emblazoned with the symbol of the Village Hidden in the Rocks. One of the only pieces of home he had with him. How long had they been here now?
"You've penned yourself in again, you know."
Clack.
"Hey now. Fighting from the corner ain't the same as penning myself in."
Clack.
"Easy enough to say for someone who's penned himself in."
Clack.
"Hmph. I know your tricks now, boy."
Clack.
"I suppose that's bound to happen after one thousand, two hundred and seven games. Not that it's helped you prevent them from working."
Clack.
"Too fuckin' right." Over a thousand games and he'd won thirty six of them.
Thirty six. Jin would've quit playing this Tama brat ages ago if there wasn't shit else to do in this backwater encampment. The Land of Grass held true to its name, with naught to see but prairies and valuable, yet boring, farmland. He couldn't spend too much time or energy training (or get drunk for that matter), in case he needed to fend off any more raids from Hidden Grass nin, though they'd been quiet the past few months. So he played this bullshit game with a certified genius instead.
Clack.
Satoru's eyes narrowed a fraction, and like many times before, Jin tried to see things how a logistical genius would. An eye there, a wall there, free space there but with obvious reprisal should either attempt to claim…
there.
Clack.
Satoru grew yet more determined to squeeze the cornered rat, claiming more ground, but Jin began dancing his way around, ensnaring the invaders before they knew what hit them.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The muted excitement began to grow as a way out presented itself from his opponent's earlier play, insufficient to snuff out his enemy.
Clack.
The conflict grew fierce, islands encircling one another before falling to a larger formation, shielding each other with stalwart eyes. Their play spanned the whole board now, clamoring for any advantage they could manage.
But the longer the conflict stretched out, the more his momentum began to slow to a crawl, and then reverse. Satoru, brow sweating with focus, played the long game, whittling down on Jin's gains until over half the board was his. Left with no hope yet again, Jin was forced to resign.
"Dammit. Closest I've been in a hundred games."
Satoru looked weary but he was grinning. "Closest you'll be in the next hundred, too."
"Now you listen here you little shit-" Jin paused his rant, eyes scanning the hills around them, ears twitching at a soft crunch that he had almost mistaken for small rocks tumbling in the wind. But he was all too familiar with that sound, and it didn't belong here.
"Earth Release: Mountain Flowing Spirit." Jin blitzed through hand signs and the ground answered his whims, awareness pulsing out from him in a wide radius. An entire battalion of bodies crouched in the grass near their encampment. Hidden Grass nin were notorious for their stealth capabilities, but even they couldn't hide themselves from the Earth itself. That being said, he'd more or less just announced that he had noticed them, and they were already twitching in response, itching to kill.
"We're under attack! Ready yourselves!" he called out, cursing under his breath. What the hell were the lookouts doing? He launched a small landslide in the vicinity of the largest group he'd sensed before tackling Satoru to the ground as senbon whizzed by. When the senbon struck the ground behind him, the grass began to blacken and sizzle.
"What the hell…?"
"Doesn't make sense," Satoru mumbled beside him. "Our forces aren't concentrated enough to pay off a costly ambush, we outnumber Hidden Grass three to one, we'll just recapture with interest… unless…"
"Now's not the time for games, boy. Rise and fight!" He launched a volley of violet flame, obliterating the grass stretching for wide swathes in front of him, along with anyone unfortunate enough to be hiding in it. Jin rapidly raised a wall of earth to reflect the latest wave of energy blasts and projectiles.
Satoru glanced at the senbon burning a hole in the ground. "Third party… Salamander venom…"
"Satoru, what-"
His eyes snapped back into focus. "Jin, you have to get out of here. This isn't Hidden Grass, it's Hidden Rain. Maybe they're working together, if they set aside their grudge…? Doesn't matter. You have to warn the Tower. You're strong enough and fast enough that you might break through their forces. We'll hold them off."
Jin allowed himself only a moment to wrestle with the information and his own feelings of abandoning his comrades. But Satoru was making a lot of sense, and even though he technically outranked Satoru as a jōnin, if a genius presented you with a tactic, you damn well considered it. Doubly so for a Tama genius.
Satoru seemed to see the resolve in Jin's eyes, and nodded, smiling. "Thank you for the games, brother."
Jin smiled back. "Thanks for letting me win a few times." And he was gone, Substituted with a boulder. There weren't many Substitution targets on grassland, so once he was clear of the encampment, he relied only on his raw speed, boosted by the chakra pumping through his veins. He leapt over a spray of caltrops and launched a crescent of water ahead of himself, splitting a ninja drawing her sword right down the middle.
As he wove through the sea of violence, he saved his chakra where he could. It would be a long sprint home. The average ninja of Hidden Rain couldn't pin down someone of his caliber, and it wasn't long before he put the battlefield behind him. He offered a silent prayer to his comrades who would soon rejoin the Earth.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a distant man walking-
walking? - toward him, so Jin adjusted his course to prevent any interception.
And then a veritable
mountain appeared in front of him in a puff of smoke. A tongue lashed out at Jin, cracking the ground below his feet as he barely slipped out of the way. He immediately began to cough from the pungent aroma of the massive beast, course correcting and running in a dead sprint in the opposite direction. The man from before was already standing in his way, kusarigama sheathed at his side. Jin realized who it must be, just as the man pulled his mask down.
Hanzō of the Salamander.
Even holding his breath did Jin little good, as a demonic cloud of tar poured forth from Hanzō's mouth. The poison felt as though being stung repeatedly, constantly, over his entire body, with the pain doubling with every passing moment. Hanzō didn't even bother to draw his weapon, reattaching his mask as Jin tipped over, barely even clinging to consciousness.
What kind of beast could unleash such horror? And what kind of beast could survive keeping it in their body every hour of every day, without so much as a hint of pain or weakness? Jin found his mind swimming around these thoughts as his limbs ceased functioning, his eyes hazily watching Hanzō casually walk towards their encampment, arms clasped behind the back.
A Hidden Rain ninja appeared before Hanzō, bearing a message scroll, before running off to join the slaughter. As Hanzō's eyes frantically crossed over the scroll and his composure slipped, Jin's last thoughts were that the sky itself was blotting out with that same midnight smog burrowing into his skin.
They came in the dead of night. It didn't take long to discern the attackers - incredible displays of Fire Release on this scale could only mean Leaf, and more concerningly, it indicated that they did not care if they were identified, even in the Land of Rivers. How they knew the Puppet Brigade was lying in wait here, Chiyo did not know. She wondered if her brother's contingent in Rain was faring any better or if Leaf cottoned on to their hidden encampment there as well. Those damned cheating Hyūga eyes, those damned Inuzuka tracker beasts… Leaf's privilege being flaunted as usual.
But Hidden Leaf's arrogance would come with a toll on this night, for Chiyo brought with her Chikamatsu's very own personal collection, and a dozen of their shinobi already lay dead at her feet as she quickly secured her portion of the campground with their immense power. Chikamatsu's Ten Puppets fell into formation in front of her nearly automatically as she gazed down from the ridge she stood upon, soaking in the chaos below and determining where she was needed most. Below, chūnin and jōnin tore the earth asunder with powerful elemental techniques, sparks flew from clashing blades and puppets, and combatants fell as flying knives sunk into their backs. Leaf's affinity for Fire Release was a distinct advantage over Sand's bias for Wind Release, but the Puppet Brigade at least wasn't so dependent on ninjutsu.
Chiyo spotted a pair of red dots, barely, as they wove through Sand's forces and slashed their throats one by one. That could only be the Silent Crow of the Uchiha, whose illusion genjutsu were so potent as to make them nearly invisible to the weak minded (and even more concerningly, they could apparently use these illusions on multiple people at once). Even Chiyo had to admit she had trouble tracking them, nor could Chiyo even fully determine their appearance. She reasoned that precise aiming mattered less when you had ten puppets working in tandem to make the entire immediate area an active hellscape, and leapt into the fray.
The Silent Crow targeted the biggest threat immediately, though they did not opt for a stronger mind-controlling genjutsu. Chiyo figured that doing so would mean dropping their pseudo-invisibility and opening them up to attacks from Chiyo's allies. They opted instead for swift and deadly sword strikes, challenging to track but trivial to intercept with no less than three puppets wielding spikes, swords, and cables, launching several swift counterattacks with the others. Powerful wind blasts shredded the place the Crow had just been standing, as sonic blasts rang out in several directions, and explosive projectiles caused the Crow to stumble before substituting towards the nearby river.
Chiyo stepped up her assault, not wanting to let such a powerful enemy of Sand retreat and live to inconvenience them another day. It seemed that while formidable, without their primary advantage of remaining unseen, they were just another jōnin. Even reserving four of her puppets for dealing with the riffraff that sought to creep in on the battle, she was already handily wearing down her Uchiha foe.
She finally managed to clip the Crow with one of her puppets' chakra metal blades, and even the minor contact was enough to send them spinning and spraying blood, bouncing across the river. That wouldn't be enough to be lethal, but it wouldn't be much longer-
Chiyo flinched as a cry rang out. She'd mostly drowned out the screaming and wails of pain, but this one stood out to her. If she turned to help, the Silent Crow might escape, but if she took the time to finish them off, it could be too late… She shook her head once and sprinted away, hoping an ally was around to finish the job. She wouldn't leave her grandson without his mother.
No fewer than seven elite puppeteers stood against another Leaf shinobi nearly impossible to make out in the gloom, and not for some fancy genjutsu, but for his raw speed. He wasn't simply avoiding the storm of puppets, he was surgically
dismantling them. Chiyo could only manage to spot afterimages of him and his glowing blade. The White Fang.
At his feet, among the many corpses, were Sasori's parents. She was too late.
She mustered Chikamatsu's relics and prepared to unleash her full fury, but the White Fang had already disappeared, apparently satisfied with the destruction he'd wrought and uninterested in testing himself against her while low on chakra. Chiyo knew already that she would never catch up to him, but his compatriots were not so lucky.
The screams of Leaf shinobi continued until the dawn came.
Hanzō couldn't help but be impressed, despite his fury at the trespassers in Rain. After being tipped off about Sand's encampment on his domain and rushing to punish their arrogance, he found himself embroiled in battle with Leaf instead, who had somehow managed to beat him to the punch. He relished a battle with the God of the Shinobi, to take Leaf's greatest down a peg, but the man hadn't appeared, presumably to safeguard his village. Hanzō could only attribute that to good intentions leading to poor actions. To ask your countrymen to die on your behalf on the off chance someone directly assaulted one of the most well-fortified locations in the Elemental Nations during a supposed peacetime… Hanzō didn't fully understand it nor did he care to at the moment. His tacticians and advisors would do well to update him on that front. For today, the heat of battle was the only thing that had occupied his focus.
Sand's forces were scattered to the wind. (
To the Wind? he mused to himself.) What remained of Leaf's shinobi were in full retreat, but for three ninja who had stubbornly refused to die until their allies had escaped Hanzō's wrath. The three of them stared defiantly at him as they huffed for air, bearing varying levels of injury and visible exhaustion. These three had not only slain his entourage, but had taken down the Boss Salamander Ibuse himself, in no small part due to fielding
three Boss Summons of their own. The voracious Manda, the mysterious Katsuyu, and the stalwart Gamabunta. Ah, but what a glorious battle! Hanzō could only imagine how much greater the glory would've been if the Summons could have been fully present in the human realm, rather than mere shells pulled from their respective demiplanes.
Hanzō hadn't even felt so much as
tired after a battle in ages. And here were three full-blown elite ninja and Summoners in their own right that Leaf had hidden right under his nose. The rate at which that place produced legendarily powerful ninja would be awe inspiring if it weren't so concerning.
Besides Hanzō and these three, not a soul remained on the battlefield. He called out to his foes.
"You three. Tell me your names." A commanding tone, but one of respect.
Tsunade, the Slug Summoner, and a master of the art of medicine. Her skill over biology and medical ninjutsu seemed well suited for supporting her allies on the surface, but Hanzō found himself astonished that her Taijutsu was among the most powerful he'd ever seen, and he found quickly that letting her touch him, even briefly, was a nightmare. Not only that, but she'd whipped up an answer to his Black Salamander venom on the fly, when many medics failed that same task with months or years of preparation and the safety of a hospital.
Jiraiya, the Toad Summoner, and a master of the art of Sealing. His array of seals brought an astonishing variety of utility, distraction, and redirection. More than this, he brought forth a truly impressive display of ninjutsu that paired excellently with the Summons he employed in battle. The reserve of chakra Jiraiya drew upon was difficult to believe.
And finally, Orochimaru, the Snake Summoner, and a master of the art of Biosealing, the fusion of his teammates' domains. The modifications to his body were extensive and left him incredibly hard to damage in a way that mattered, as well as enabling truly tricky attack maneuvers. More than that, he proved himself a capable wielder of a blade, with his inhuman physiology enabling ordinarily impossible swordplay.
Their teamwork was beyond any he had seen in his entire career, with incredibly synergistic capabilities. Hanzō found it increasingly challenging to think of them as separate individuals, and had begun seeing them more and more as one entity: the Three.
It seemed that the Professor of Leaf had been keeping his best students hidden as a trump card. He wondered if the Three would have been able to defeat him had they not already expended some of their energy thrashing Sand's forces, for as incredible as Leaf's intel had been to ambush Sand, it seemed that they hadn't expected Rain's forces to appear, in their own territory… Leaf's arrogance once again quelled some of the elation he'd felt from an incredible battle. And then grew into anger. How dare the Major Powers come to Rain again, and again, and expect them to roll over while pillaging their lands and tearing each other to shreds, leaving only ruin?
There was a part of him that wanted to reward the Three for giving him the joy of a great battle, by sparing their lives… but Hanzō had to put the needs of his village first. A message needed to be sent, and claiming three Summon Scrolls from Leaf along with the heads of three of its elite shinobi would be a potent one.
Hanzō had great plans for Rain, and it would not do to leave three strong foes standing in its way down the line.
"My honor requires me to admit that I greatly admire the strength of you, Leaf Shinobi. To survive in a place such as this, against a foe such as myself, is a feat worthy of the most legendary of shinobi. I hereby christen you three the Hidden Leaf's Sannin. From this day forth, you will be remembered by this name. It is one of the only mercies I can offer you today. Tell me your last words, and I swear to pass them on to any party you wish. Then, I will claim your life."
Hanzō gave them a deep bow. "Thank you for an incredible battle, Legendary Sannin. I pray for you to find the honors you deserve in the Pure Lands."
Hiruzen's advisory council sat stock still as the intelligence report of the past few weeks of conflict was read aloud. Hiruzen said nothing as he was informed his favorite students were dead. Calmly, he reached into his desk and pulled forth his favorite pipe, placing it in his mouth. He steepled his fingers. The Third Hokage's voice was even and respectful, as he said, "Get out."
Lord Nara, guilt written all across his face, started, "Sir, I…"
Hiruzen made no handsigns, or indeed any motion at all, but the tobacco in his pipe began smoking profusely. The temperature of the room suddenly felt as though it was baking them alive. The God of the Shinobi's advisors swiftly made their exit, with one last forlorn look from Nara Shikaku. As the door closed, the room burst into flames.
In the light rainfall of the northeastern forests in the Land of Rain, Kobayashi Jun stood by the cliffside, staring west expectantly. Staring towards Home.
Kenzō paused his kata, looking toward his teacher. In the same vein, Momoka looked up from sharpening her kunai, and Shion dismissed the ninjutsu she had been practicing. They glanced at each other, before Kenzō spoke up.
"What is it, sensei?"
Jun seemed to come out of his reverie, though he kept his eyes on the horizon, with dark clouds rumbling angrily in the distance. "A storm's coming."