Sakumo Hatake was back.
Once the news reached the Sunagakure main camp via the fleeing survivors, it spread through the ranks like wildfire. After all, to countless Suna shinobi, that name was synonymous with blood, loss, and bitter tears.
Faced with the return of the White Fang, some ninjas immediately chose to follow their instincts—and their survival drive—deciding to steer as far clear of that "God of Death" as possible. However, many others, particularly the Jonin, began to sharpen their blades with predatory anticipation.
How could Sunagakure, one of the Great Five Hidden Villages, be sent running like dogs just by the mention of a name?
According to the reports brought back by the survivors, Sakumo Hatake had brought fewer than three thousand reinforcements. Moreover, they were a ragtag bunch: the elderly, children, and the disabled. To the Suna commanders, this wasn't a threat—it was a golden opportunity. It was the perfect time to wash away the village's shame and permanently shatter the curse of the "White Fang."
For the Jonin leading the charge, the logic was simple: the more terrifying the White Fang's reputation in Suna was, the greater the glory and prestige they would gain by defeating him. Who could resist the pull of such easily attainable merit and fame?
As for the "Yellow Flash" nonsense mentioned by the few failures who had crawled back? The commanders only felt more disdain for them.
Losing was one thing. Facing an army several times your size led by a monster like Sakumo Hatake made defeat understandable. But to cover up their own incompetence by inventing a mythical enemy who appeared only as a "streak of yellow light"? That was pathetic.
Clearly, detailed intelligence on Minato had not yet reached their desks. It was a lapse in judgment that would serve as a grim foreshadowing of their fate.
As the saying goes: the older the fox, the harder it is to catch.
If humans, with their decades-long lifespans, can become that crafty, then a Tailed Beast that has lived for over a millennium is naturally far more cunning.
After the Five-Tails, Kokuo, went berserk and escaped, it didn't flee for its life away from the Land of Grass as everyone expected. On the contrary, possessing a nature similar to a wild horse, Kokuo feinted a desperate flight to the west before doubling back to the Land of Grass—a country that was essentially one massive, lush pasture.
Unlike the overly proud Nine-Tails or the reclusive Three-Tails, Kokuo knew its true form was too conspicuous and would quickly draw the ire of "pesky humans." Using the Transformation Jutsu it had observed from its former Jinchuriki, it disguised itself as an ordinary galloping horse.
In the thirty-odd years it had been captured and restricted by humans, it had clearly learned a trick or two.
Unaware of this deception, the capture teams from Suna and Kumo continued their search to the west.
While Iwa and Kumo were continental powers, Kirigakure—being an island nation—faced a logistical dilemma once their team left the Land of Water.
Option one: Land in the Land of Hot Springs, circle around the Land of Fire, and head west. Option two: Land in the Land of Rivers, head north, and then turn west.
Of course, there was technically a third option: land directly in the Land of Wind and cut across diagonally. But obviously, unless they had holes in their heads, no one was going to pick that route.
Between the remaining two paths, the Land of Hot Springs route was safe. It consisted of small nations that wouldn't dare provoke the Mist. However, it was tedious and time-consuming. In their current race against Iwa and Kumo, that lost time could cost them the prize.
The second path—cutting through the Land of Rivers and the Land of Rain—offered a massive shortcut. The catch? Suna and Konoha were currently locked in a death match in the Land of Rivers. Passing through risked catching the eye of two Great Villages, or worse, getting caught in a pincer attack.
"If I can't have it, nobody can!" That kind of spiteful mentality was easy to predict in the shinobi world.
After a brief, heated debate, Kirigakure made their choice: they would land in the Land of Rivers.
Between safety and speed, they gambled on time. They were already betting high on this mission anyway; what was one more wager?
Unfortunately, if they had possessed Tsunade's extensive "gambling" experience, they would have understood one universal truth: nine out of ten bets end in a loss.
Sakumo Hatake didn't press his advantage? After a major victory, he chose to dig in and wait for Suna to attack on the Land of Fire's border?
He's flinching! He's afraid!
When the battle-ready Suna army realized Sakumo wasn't coming for them, they sent scouts to investigate. The report that the White Fang had chosen to fortify a camp and adopt a passive defensive posture acted like a shot of adrenaline to the Suna Jonin. Their last lingering doubts vanished.
The Sakumo Hatake they knew was a man who launched daring, preemptive strikes even when outnumbered against Suna's elite puppet brigades. For him to "admit defeat" by choosing passive defense now?
To Suna, it was an unmistakable signal of weakness.
Sunagakure was like a spring—the more Sakumo gave way, the harder they pushed back.
They abandoned their plan to hold a defensive line and test Konoha's strength. Instead, they mobilized their entire force, a grand army marching toward the Land of Fire. They intended to crush Sakumo's "sandcastle" of a camp with a tidal wave of aggression.
It was only when they collided head-on with the fortifications that they realized their mistake. What had looked like a flimsy camp was, in fact, a jagged reef standing firm against the tide.
And finally, they realized that the "losers" who had fled earlier hadn't been lying after all.
"Whew... Minato, how are you holding up? Can you keep going?"
After repelling yet another Suna assault, Hatani couldn't help but exhale a long, ragged breath. He looked with concern at Minato, who was visibly more exhausted than he was.
Suna's wave of attacks hadn't shattered the camp, but they hadn't retreated either. Instead, they attacked like a literal tide—continuous and relentless. Six thousand ninjas had been split into two rotations, maintaining a non-stop offensive.
While Konoha's three thousand defenders weren't powerless, their lack of peak strength and experience meant that "fires" were breaking out everywhere along the defensive line.
Consequently, Minato—with his Flying Raijin—had become a one-man rapid response team. Wherever the cry for help came from, he was there. After less than a day of combat, although they had held the line, Minato's chakra was dangerously low. He looked like a towel that had been wrung so hard there wasn't a single drop of moisture left in the fibers.