Back at the Iwagakure main outpost, the night air was heavy with the stench of tension and burnt parchment. Deep within the fortified war chambers, the Third Tsuchikage, Arano, stood in the center of the strategy room, flanked by Iwa's highest-ranking jōnin and elite tacticians. The room was thick with discussion—maps covered in ink markings, strategies shifting like sand under pressure.
Suddenly, without warning, the heavy door to the chamber swung open.
Three ANBU operatives entered swiftly, their movements sharp and precise. They didn't knock. They didn't wait for permission. They moved as if time itself was chasing them.
The entire room froze.
Every jōnin turned in unison, stunned by the abrupt breach of protocol. For ANBU to storm in during a war council—and in the presence of the Tsuchikage—was nearly unheard of. Disrespect at this level was rarely tolerated. For a moment, silence ruled.
But then, all three ANBU dropped to one knee, heads bowed low before their Kage.
"Lord Tsuchikage!" the leading ANBU spoke, his voice firm but laced with urgency. "We bring grave news."
Arano narrowed his eyes, studying the masked men before him. The room remained silent, awaiting his verdict.
After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Then speak. What news dares to interrupt the war council of Iwagakure?"
The lead ANBU raised his head slightly. "Our outposts and the Kannabi Bridge in the Land of Grass… have been destroyed. We believe the attack was carried out by none other than the Yellow Flash of Konoha—Minato Namikaze."
A heavy silence gripped the chamber like a genjutsu.
The news hit hard. Everyone in the room knew the implications. The bridge was a critical supply line. If the reports were true, then—
"...Just as expected," Arano muttered.
The room turned toward him, wide-eyed. Was he not surprised?
The Tsuchikage let out a slow, measured breath. "We reinforced our rear defenses… yet even that was not enough to stop him." His voice carried no anger, only certainty. "Minato Namikaze… he is living up to his title."
He scanned the room, meeting the eyes of each jōnin. Their faces reflected anxiety, awaiting his judgment.
"As I said before," Arano continued calmly, "this scenario was one of many we prepared for. A commander must think ten moves ahead."
"But, Lord Tsuchikage," one of the jōnin interjected, "what about our offensive on Konoha's defense line? If we split our forces now—"
"The attack will continue," Arano replied swiftly, voice ironclad. "Konoha is stronger than we calculated, yes… but they are bleeding. They cannot hold forever. Victory is not a matter of if—but when."
He stepped forward, hands behind his back.
"I will personally head to the Land of Grass to deal with Minato Namikaze. This is no longer a mission for mere jōnin. He is too fast, too precise. If left unchecked, he will undo everything we've built."
The room stirred in shock.
"You would go alone?" another jōnin asked.
"Yes. You will remain and carry out the original plan. If something changes drastically, send an ANBU to alert me. Until then, you have command authority. Do not disappoint me."
His words were clear—and final.
With a swirl of his cloak and a last glance at the map, Arano left the chamber.
The war room slowly emptied. The three ANBU, their mission complete, departed behind their Tsuchikage. For them, orders came and went like lightning. In times of war, there was no such thing as rest. Somewhere else, another mission already waited.
The jōnin, however, remained.
They gathered around the table, eyes locked on the map Arano had left behind. For the first time in the war, the burden of strategy and decision-making had been passed to them. They would continue with the original plan—press the attack on the third city.
But now, every decision could determine the fate of the war.
The Tsuchikage had trusted them.
And that trust carried a heavy weight.
The Next Day
Far from the command outpost, Tsuchikage Arano moved like a silent mountain through the trees. His chakra was perfectly controlled, his presence masked. A Kage traveling alone into a war zone was madness to some—but Arano wasn't just a leader. He was the strongest Iwa ninja.
Meanwhile, on the front lines, the situation remained dire.
Konoha's final defense line held, but only barely. Every hour bought with blood. The once tranquil forest had become a wasteland of scorched earth, broken trees, and fallen shinobi from both sides. Crows circled overhead. Smoke stained the sky.
At the breach point, where Iwa had pierced the line, progress had slowed to a crawl. Konoha shinobi laid countless traps—exploding tags hidden under fallen leaves, chakra-triggered seal traps etched into stone, sudden ambushes from above. From the flanks, Konoha squads struck like wolves, bleeding the enemy with precision.
Still, Iwa pushed forward.
The jōnin now in command restructured the offensive. With the third city in reach, it became the new priority. The full weight of the Iwa war machine began shifting in that direction. Reinforcements were rerouted. Attacks on the broader front lessened to free up manpower.
It was a gamble—but if they took the city, it would tilt the entire war in Iwa's favor.
March to the Third City
The forest thinned.
After a brutal day of advancing through , poisoned kunai, and coordinated Konoha strikes, the first glimpse of the plains emerged. And there, standing tall and defiant against the horizon, was the third city.
Now transformed into a fortress.
Konoha had reinforced it well—walls reinforced with chakra-infused stone, defensive towers constructed in haste, and barriers marked with sealing tags.
The Iwa troops had no time to rest. They left their wounded and dead behind. There was no space for mourning.
That night, their flanks were finally secured. Under the moonlight, additional squads arrived, forming ranks across the field.
By dawn, the plains outside the third city were filled with nearly one thousand Iwa shinobi—a small army in its own right.
To deploy such a force for a single city was dangerous. Risky. Some jōnin questioned the cost. But others understood—this was the turning point.
And even with rising casualties… Iwagakure could still afford it.
For now.