Chapter 87 - The Decisive Battle Begins

Chapter 87 - The Decisive Battle Begins

Morning arrived quietly at the forward command camp.

The sky was overcast, the wind low and thick with the scent of war. The silence before the storm.

Kazane had just finished a simple breakfast—rice, grilled fish, miso soup—sharing the table with Tsunade. They ate without saying much. Both of them were used to the pre-battle calm, the eerie stillness that hung in the air before everything came undone.

It was then that a message arrived from Jonin Sasaki.

Danzo had entered the camp.

Shikaku Nara, the acting strategist for the Konoha forces, had intentionally chosen not to inform Kazane ahead of time. He feared the two might come to blows the moment Danzo stepped across the border, which would throw the entire chain of command into chaos.

What Shikaku hadn't counted on was that Kazane had already placed his own informants within the camp—Jonin loyal to him from previous battles, and even a few Root defectors now embedded as "logistics officers."

Naturally, Kazane knew Danzo was coming long before Sasaki ever opened his mouth.

Tsunade, seated across from Kazane, caught part of Sasaki's hushed report as he approached. Her eyes narrowed subtly, and her chopsticks paused mid-air.

She had heard the rumors.

Rumors that Kazane had nearly kicked Danzo to death before the last Mist campaign. At first, she'd dismissed it as overblown gossip—until she'd seen Danzo's state during the war council: bruised ribs, a dislocated shoulder, two cracked vertebrae, and a bruised ego that hadn't recovered since.

Truth be told, she hadn't minded hearing about it.

Danzo was despised among many of Konoha's Jonin. Though he held no official title beyond "Elder," he wielded more power than most Kage, thanks to the Root division he commanded from the shadows. He was rarely seen at the frontlines, yet constantly interfered with the internal affairs of the major clans.

People feared him, yes—but no one truly respected him.

Kazane's infamous "kick" had felt like a release valve for years of frustration.

And yet, this was not the time for division. With a major battle looming, Tsunade didn't want to see another brawl erupt inside the heart of the camp. Losing a top-tier fighter—either of them—would be disastrous.

So, without waiting for Kazane to ask, she decided to go with him.

If things went sideways, she would be there to break it up.

Kazane didn't mind. In fact, he seemed to expect it. With an unreadable smile, he nodded and led her straight to the command tent.

The moment they entered, Kazane made no effort to hide his intent.

He walked directly to the center of the tent and sat himself down in the commander's chair—where Shikaku typically handled logistics and coordination.

It wasn't subtle.

It wasn't polite.

It was a declaration.

This camp, this war—was under his authority now.

Tsunade said nothing, but her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than usual.

She remembered when he was just a quiet boy, another graduate of the Academy. Rough around the edges, yes, but nothing exceptional at first glance. Now, he sat before her with the poise of a general. A man not only battle-hardened, but politically aware.

A dangerous combination.

She didn't like politics, but she understood the message Kazane had just sent.

And it worried her.

Danzo won't tolerate this.

But… would he really dare push back here? Now?

A moment later, the tent flap rustled, and Shikaku entered with Danzo in tow.

Shikaku's eyes flicked to Kazane in the commander's seat—then to Tsunade beside him. He froze for a moment, mentally cursing.

I told them not to inform Kazane—why is he already here?

But then he noticed Tsunade's presence and breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

If things turned ugly, at least the Slug Princess was here to break bones before Kazane did.

Kazane didn't rise to greet them. He didn't offer a word of welcome.

Instead, he calmly raised his hand and tapped the table twice with his fingers.

Tap. Tap.

Two seats. A silent signal.

Sit.

Danzo's one good eye twitched ever so slightly. His entire life, he had dealt in power, in leverage, in manipulation. And here was this boy—this upstart child who now held more influence than he ever had—treating him like a subordinate.

And worse… he had no choice but to endure it.

Kazane was provoking him, that much was clear. Pushing, needling—hoping he'd lash out so Kazane would have cause to kill him then and there.

It was a game Danzo had played many times.

This time, he was on the receiving end.

Shikaku looked from one man to the other, tension crackling like a fuse nearing its end.

But before he could intervene, Danzo moved.

He walked over and sat down without protest.

No grumbling. No complaints.

Only silence.

Shikaku blinked. He's… cooperating?

It took him a second to recover, and then he followed suit, taking the seat next to him.

Kazane offered a faint, amused smile.

Coward.

He reached beneath the table and tossed a scroll forward.

It landed with a quiet thud in front of Danzo—sealed with the Hokage's mark.

Danzo opened it with a quick flick of his thumb.

Inside was Sarutobi Hiruzen's personal order, written in his hand.

Effective immediately, all Root forces are to be placed under the command of Hatake Kazane for the duration of the war.

Failure to comply will be considered an act of treason.

Danzo's face was still. But his hand trembled slightly.

"The Hokage says your Root division will serve under my direct command," Kazane said quietly, his tone polite—but each word cut like a blade.

"Is that correct, Elder Danzo?"

Danzo took a slow breath.

"…Correct. I will fully cooperate."

He stared down at the scroll.

I will endure this humiliation. For now.

He had not spent decades surviving the darkest corners of the shinobi world by being impulsive. He could wait. Let Kazane lead.

The war would decide everything.

"Good. Then I'll be counting on you, Elder Danzo. By 2 PM this afternoon, I want you to lure the Kumo forces to this location."

Kazane's tone was casual, almost conversational—but there was steel beneath the surface. As he spoke, he clapped his hands twice in a sharp, punctuating rhythm and walked over to the war map hanging on the far wall. The canvas, marked with inked roads, terrain markers, and colored pins, bore the weight of every calculated decision made thus far in this brutal conflict.

Kazane's finger came to rest on a location just southwest of the main camp—a wide plain surrounded by scattered hills and shallow ridges. Open terrain. No narrow chokepoints. No forests to hide in. No valleys to trap enemies.

Tactically, it was the worst place to set an ambush.

But that wasn't the point.

This wasn't about ambushes. It was about something far more direct.

It was a dueling ground.

The perfect stage for a decisive battle.

Kazane knew that once he faced the Third Raikage, there would be no need for traps or misdirection. This fight would not be won through subtlety—but through power.

However, the location he chose was not only close to Konoha's forward camp. It was also ten kilometers from the Kumogakure base—a distance that meant Danzo and his Root units would have to venture far into enemy reach just to bait the Raikage into moving.

A risky task. Possibly suicidal.

"Lord Kazane…"

It was Shikaku who spoke first, breaking the tense silence.

His eyes scanned the map quickly, and his brow furrowed with concern. "I believe we should reconsider this plan. Placing a strike unit that deep into enemy approach—"

"I'm asking Elder Danzo."

Kazane's voice cut clean through the tent, sharp and final.

He didn't even glance at Shikaku, his gaze pinned solely on Danzo.

The room went quiet again.

Kazane slowly stepped back from the map and approached the table. His hand dropped lazily to the hilt of Wado Ichimonji, fingers curling around the familiar grip with a casual menace.

He didn't draw it.

He didn't need to.

The implication was crystal clear.

"Elder Danzo…" Kazane's voice was lower now, quiet enough to sound almost polite. "Are you saying you can't complete this task?"

For a moment, the tension in the tent was suffocating.

Tsunade's expression hardened. Even Shikaku—usually the calmest man in the room—tensed.

This wasn't about the mission anymore.

This was personal.

Kazane had challenged Danzo directly, questioning his competence, his authority, and his usefulness to the war effort—all in front of two of the most respected Jonin in Konoha.

Danzo's jaw clenched. His single visible eye twitched.

He knew the game Kazane was playing.

He'd played it himself a hundred times in his younger years—cornering people, forcing them to overextend, giving them no choice but to obey or lash out.

Kazane wanted him to take the bait. To snap. To give him an excuse to finally finish what that kick had started.

But Danzo wasn't the same man he'd been decades ago.

He'd survived too many political storms to lose his composure now.

"...Fine. I accept the mission."

His voice was gravel and venom.

"I'll be taking my leave now."

He stood, his cloak billowing behind him as he stormed out of the command tent, his Root guards falling in behind him without a word.

The tent remained still even after he left, as if everyone inside was waiting for the air to settle.

It was Tsunade who finally spoke.

"Kid… that was going too far."

Her voice wasn't loud, but the weight behind it was clear.

"You've never fought the Third Raikage. You don't understand his strength. This isn't some duel to satisfy your pride. This is a war. And you're putting dozens of our shinobi at risk just to make a point."

She didn't yell.

She didn't raise her chakra or stomp her foot.

She just stood there, disappointment in her eyes.

The warmth she'd felt toward Kazane during their quiet breakfast now seemed a distant memory.

The confident, charismatic youth had vanished.

In his place stood a calculating, unflinching commander.

But Kazane didn't respond to her concerns.

He turned back toward the war map, studying the plain again.

To him, this wasn't recklessness.

This was necessity.

"Lord Shikaku. Begin preparations."

Kazane's voice was calm. Focused.

"It's time to end this war."

With that, he strode out of the tent, leaving Tsunade and Shikaku behind.

They followed after him a moment later, still trying to talk him down.

"Kazane, listen—" Tsunade started, but he had already stopped moving.

He stood there, gazing up at the heavy clouds above.

The sky was overcast, the sun hidden behind layers of gray.

The same kind of sky he remembered from every battlefield he'd walked.

The kind of sky that swallowed color and warmth, leaving only steel and silence.

He took a deep breath.

And whispered—

"The sun's coming out."

Tsunade blinked, confused.

"What?"

Even Shikaku furrowed his brow.

Then, without answering, Kazane unsheathed Wado Ichimonji.

The edge gleamed faintly in the dim light.

He raised the sword skyward.

And then—swung.

It was not a reckless slash. Not a flashy display.

It was a clean, precise cut—

But the result was devastating.

A black crescent of energy erupted from the blade, a hundred meters wide, tearing upward through the air like a rift in reality.

It slammed into the clouds above, parting them like silk.

And just like that—

Sunlight poured down.

The golden rays spilled across Kazane's figure, illuminating him in the middle of the training ground like a warrior of legend.

Behind him, Tsunade and Shikaku stared in stunned silence.

Neither of them said a word.

In that moment, they understood—

This wasn't just a message to Danzo.

This was a message of challenge to the Raikage.