Chapter 79: The Hunt for the Four-Tails

The night stretched endlessly across the horizon, the sky painted in deep hues of indigo and black. The cold mountain air was sharp, carrying the scent of damp stone and the distant echoes of nocturnal creatures. A thick fog rolled in from the valleys below, curling around jagged rocks like spectral hands, making the world feel smaller, more suffocating.

Ryūsei stood at the edge of a rocky outcrop, his golden Byakugan gleaming through the darkness. His gaze was fixed on the landscape below—an expanse of rugged terrain, treacherous cliffs, and dense forests. The Land of Earth's borderlands.

This was where their next target roamed.

Rōshi, the Four-Tails Jinchūriki.

Unlike the others, this one wouldn't be easily taken.

There was no margin for error. One misstep, and the battlefield could become a sea of molten destruction.

Behind him, the sound of boots crunching against loose stone broke the silence. He didn't have to turn to know who it was.

Tsunade.

"You're doing it again," she murmured, crossing her arms.

Ryūsei exhaled through his nose. "Doing what?"

She smirked. "Brooding."

He arched an eyebrow. "I don't brood."

She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her golden eyes. "You're standing on a cliff, staring dramatically into the distance. You definitely brood."

He scoffed, but the corner of his lips twitched. "I'm strategizing."

Tsunade stepped closer, the warmth of her presence cutting through the night's chill. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Her teasing was light, but there was an underlying tension in the air. Not the tension of battle, nor the weight of responsibility—something more personal.

For a brief moment, just a flicker in time, the war, the bloodshed, the looming shadow of the future… all of it disappeared.

It was just them.

Standing beneath the vast night sky.

But the moment shattered like fragile glass as a voice slithered through the darkness.

"If you two are quite finished," Orochimaru drawled, stepping into the moonlight, "we have a Jinchūriki to capture."

Tsunade sighed. "Fine, fine. Let's get this over with."

Ryūsei's expression hardened, shifting back into the cold calculation of a warrior. "It won't be easy. Rōshi is different from the others. He's a veteran shinobi, highly disciplined, and deeply synchronized with the Four-Tails. He doesn't just use its power—he embodies it."

Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Then this will be a test of skill rather than brute force."

Ryūsei nodded. "And I have just the plan."

The Trap is Set

Days passed as they tracked Rōshi, watching, analyzing, waiting for the right moment.

Unlike the other Jinchūriki, he never stayed in one place for too long.

Every movement was precise, every decision calculated. He moved like a shadow across the Land of Earth, disappearing into mountain passes, traversing rocky ridges with the ease of a man who had spent decades surviving in hostile terrain.

But even the most disciplined warrior had habits.

And habits could be exploited.

They found their opening at a secluded hot spring deep within the mountains. A place rich in geothermal energy, where lava flowed beneath the earth like veins of fire.

A place where Rōshi felt most at home.

Night fell.

The mist thickened, turning the world into an eerie, dreamlike void. The only sound was the distant bubbling of molten rock beneath the surface.

Kneeling on a high ledge, Ryūsei's golden Rinnegan shimmered as he overlooked the springs. Below, the glow of a campfire flickered. A lone figure sat before it, his silhouette sharp against the orange light.

Rōshi.

His weathered face was calm, but there was a tension in his posture, a quiet awareness. A man who had spent his life being hunted never truly relaxed.

Tsunade crouched beside Ryūsei, her breath steady.

"He's waiting for something," she whispered.

"He's waiting for us," Ryūsei murmured.

Orochimaru's voice drifted from the shadows. "Then let's not keep him waiting."

The Attack Begins

The first strike came like a whisper of death.

A kunai, etched with intricate sealing scripts, sliced through the night air, aimed straight for Rōshi's blind spot.

But the veteran shinobi moved before it even reached him.

BOOM!

Molten chakra erupted from his skin, a wave of searing heat melting the kunai into slag before it could land. Rōshi's red eyes snapped toward the source of the attack, his expression calm but deadly.

"You should have stayed hidden," he rumbled. His voice was like grinding stone, ancient and unshakable.

From the shadows, Ryūsei stepped forward, the moonlight catching the edges of his form.

"And miss the fun?" he smirked.

Rōshi didn't hesitate. He attacked.

The earth trembled as a wave of molten rock surged forward, turning the ground into a river of fire.

But Ryūsei was already moving.

Lightning surged through his veins.

He disappeared in a blur of speed, reappearing above Rōshi in a crackle of raw power. His palm lashed out, aiming for a precision strike—but Rōshi was faster than expected.

A fist of searing magma shot up to meet him.

CLASH!

The impact sent shockwaves through the valley. Sparks and molten rock flew in every direction, illuminating the battlefield in a hellish glow.

The air filled with the scent of burning stone and ozone.

Ryūsei twisted mid-air, narrowly dodging a second strike, but even in that moment, he grinned.

"He's strong."

Good.

Because Ryūsei was just getting started.

On the cliffs, Tsunade watched, fists clenched.

Below, Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable.

A thrill of anticipation.

Tonight, the Four-Tails would fall.