Chapter 55: The Calculus of War
Kagenori's strike was a masterpiece of brutal efficiency. One moment the Kumo commander was bellowing orders; the next, his head was tumbling from his shoulders, his body a canvas for the explosive tags Kagenori left behind. The subsequent detonation was a punctuation mark of pure terror.
Namikaze Minato witnessed it all, his expression hardening into a mask of grim solemnity. Kagenori's speed was even more terrifying than he remembered from their academy spars. Back then, Minato could at least hold his own for a time, trading blows before ultimately being worn down. Now, after years of training under Jiraiya and honing his skills on the battlefield, he had believed he'd closed the gap. This single, ruthless demonstration proved otherwise.
The difference, Minato knew, was a unique jutsu.
While Minato had mastered Wind Release, Jiraiya's expertise lay elsewhere, limiting the depth of his ninjutsu tutelage. Kagenori, however, possessed Thunder Breathing—a powerful, specialized taijutsu-ninjutsu hybrid that had become his signature. Other Konoha Lightning users might mimic the forms, but none could replicate the raw, crackling power and speed Kagenori wielded. Combined with the predictive acuity of his Sharingan, he was a force of nature.
Minato's mind turned to the Flying Raijin Jutsu Jiraiya had mentioned. A space-time ninjutsu from the Scroll of Seals. That was the kind of unique, game-changing technique he needed. He vowed to master it once the opportunity arose.
While Kagenori identified his targets by the simple, brutal metric of who spoke the most, Minato's approach was more analytical. He observed positioning, attire, and command gestures—the officer at the rear, the one with slightly distinct armor, the one pointing and directing the flow of troops. Once identified, he was a blur of motion, a kunai finding its mark in a throat before he vanished again with the Body Flicker, a ghost leaving only a corpse in his wake.
The battle raged on, the cacophony of clashing steel, exploding jutsu, and dying screams a constant soundtrack within Yugakure. The ground grew slick with blood, the fallen a grisly carpet of Kumo-nin, Yugakure shinobi, and Konoha comrades.
Kagenori's clothes were drenched, plastered to his skin with other men's blood. His breathing was slightly labored. His effectiveness had made him a target. A dozen Kumo-nin, having lost their commanders to his lightning-fast assaults, now surrounded him, their faces contorted with rage and fear.
As they charged en masse, Kagenori took a final, measured breath.
"Thunder Breathing, Sixth Form: Rumble and Flash!"
He became the epicenter of a storm of blades. Countless slashes of lightning-charged energy erupted outward in every direction. The surrounding Kumo-nin were cut down before they could even register the attack, their bodies falling in a circle around him.
Free from the encirclement, he didn't pause. He pulled two soldier pills from his pouch and dry-swallowed them. Chakra preservation was paramount; the battle was far from over.
Another squad of Kumo-nin spotted him. Instead of meeting them head-on, Kagenori led them on a chase, maneuvering them toward a large, rain-filled puddle. He formed a single seal and slammed his hands into the water.
"Lightning Release: Electromagnetic Murder!"
A surge of high-voltage electricity shot through the water, arcing into the feet and legs of the pursuing squad. They convulsed, muscles locking, paralyzed where they stood. It was a cold, methodical execution. Kagenori moved among them, his chakra-metal sword flashing, ending each one with a precise, emotionless stroke.
His Sharingan never stopped scanning. Another commander, another node of enemy coordination. Lightning flickered around his body again.
"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!"
He was a bolt across the battlefield, the commander dead before he could finish his order, another set of explosive tags left sizzling on his corpse.
As Kagenori flickered away, a wounded Konoha shinobi was hurled through the air by a concussive blast, landing with a sickening thud near his feet. The man—Daigo—was a ruin. One arm and one leg were gone, pulped and bloody. He coughed, blood speckling his lips, his one remaining hand weakly clutching at Kagenori's trousers.
"Save me… please…" he gasped, his eyes wide with terror. "I don't want to die… My family… in Konoha… Please…"
Kagenori looked down, his expression as cold and impassive as the steel in his hand. "I cannot save you. If the pain is too great, use your remaining strength to end it. As for your family… you put your faith in Konoha. See that faith through to the end."
He pressed several explosive tags into the man's trembling hand, then used the Body Flicker to vanish.
Daigo stared at the tags, then at the approaching Kumo-nin, their faces grim. Despair gave way to a bitter resolve. He clutched the papers tightly.
"DAIGO! NO!"
A blur. Minato Namikaze appeared at his side, his hand outstretched to grab the tags. But Daigo, with a surge of final strength, shoved him away.
"Minato… he's right," Daigo choked out, a bitter smile on his face. "I'm a burden now. Don't worry about me. The fight… your comrades still need you." He met Minato's eyes, his own filling with a desperate, final hope. "I believe in you, Minato… You will become Hokage… My family… I leave them to you!"
With a roar, he used his one leg to propel himself forward, hurling his broken body into the midst of the enemy squad.
The explosion was deafening. Daigo was vaporized. Two Kumo-nin were torn apart in the blast.
Minato stood frozen, the concussive wave washing over him. Tears, hot and furious, streamed down his smoke-smudged cheeks. The grief and rage crystallized into a single target. He flickered across the battlefield, appearing directly in front of Kagenori, his hand shooting out to grab the other boy's blood-soaked collar.
"WHY?!" Minato screamed, his voice raw. "Why would you do that?! Even if you wouldn't save him, you didn't have to give him the means to kill himself! You didn't have to make him a bomb!"
Kagenori calmly, forcefully, slapped Minato's hand away. He straightened his collar, his red Sharingan eyes boring into Minato's blue ones, utterly devoid of emotion.
"So?" Kagenori's voice was a chilling monotone. "You think I killed him? And so you come to accuse me in the middle of a warzone? That man had one arm and one leg blown off. Without a medic, without an evacuation route, his fate was sealed. He was going to die, either bleeding out or being finished off by the enemy. I gave him a tool. I allowed him to turn his inevitable death into a tactical advantage. He took two of them with him. By any measure, that is a net gain for Konoha."
"They are not numbers! They are not tools! They are our comrades!" Minato roared, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
A cold, mocking sneer twisted Kagenori's lips. "So? If it were you lying there, would you want your comrades to throw their lives away trying to save a corpse? To drag your dead weight through a firefight? Don't we all believe in the Will of Fire? 'The village is the forest, the shinobi are the trees, and the fire that illuminates the village will never go out.' I made his death meaningful. I made it contribute. I prevented him from being a burden. I let his final act be one of sacrifice for Konoha. Tell me, Namikaze, exactly what did I do wrong? Should I have let him die for nothing? Or should I have let him get us both killed in a futile rescue attempt?"
Minato stood there, trembling, his teeth gritted so hard a trickle of blood seeped from his lip. His heart screamed in protest, but his mind, the strategist's mind he was trying to forge, could find no flaw in the cold, brutal arithmetic. The fury remained, a fire in his chest, but the words to refute Kagenori died before they could be spoken.