Once the battle began, there was no more sneaking around for a happy dumpling-wrap.
From here on, every enemy wave would be a hard fight—and they would only get harder.
But was that really the case?
Konoha's defense on the Eastern Front was vast, covering almost the entire south-east coast; the net was thin, each post held by a single squad whose job wasn't to stop the enemy but to 'plant eyes', forming a chain of outposts that watched for any attack.
Few enemies—fight them; many—pull back, trading ground for time until the main force arrived. With the Byakugan, Konoha could keep the game going as long as they didn't get reckless.
Kirigakure was different. The Land of Whirlpools, a perfect springboard into the Land of Fire, was a long, narrow peninsula; inside their line the Mist Ninja were packed tight.
They were the invaders—no room to retreat. Pull back to the sea and what was the point of the invasion?
When the first defenses lit up like blooming flowers, the Mist farther back knew: the damned Leaf had come.
This wasn't the small-team harassment of the stand-off days; this was a battle for victory. It was time to decide who won.
They passed word rearward by every means, signalling comrades to rally and hold together.
Fighting as one kept them from being picked off piecemeal, slowed the Leaf advance, and bought time for the main force to form up.
Right now, time was life.
When the Seventh Assault Unit—Higashino Shin among them—smashed through the first warning line at full speed and reached the second, they found a blocking force of Kirigakure Ninja already gathered.
Thick, Chakra-laden fog hid them; the same scene repeated along the whole front—white fortresses hiding skilled hunters who waited to butcher any prey that stepped into the net.
But the Leaf had long since learned how to deal with old foes.
Wind-Ninja in Shin's unit used Wind Release to blow the Hidden Mist away—yet this time was different from when he'd first reached the Eastern Front.
Then, a dozen Mist Ninja had used the technique only to cover a scattered breakout; now the enemy meant to pin them here, and someone inside kept the mist alive.
Wind Release could only scatter the outer layer; a dense core remained, and the moment the jutsu ended the mist began rolling outward again.
Given a little time it would reclaim the field—but a little time was all that was needed.
Countless Kunai wrapped with Explosive Tags arced into the thick fog; when you don't know what's inside, saturate it first.
Under the Byakugan no mist is opaque; the Ninja maintaining the jutsu were priority targets and were sent diving for cover.
Most of the hastily laid traps in front of the line were blasted useless as well.
Fighting an opponent who can see straight through your tricks is maddening—no wonder the other villages coveted a Byakugan of their own.
Only the Caged Bird seal kept the dōjutsu from leaking; the clan's branch house paid the price, but the village reaped the benefit, so the higher-ups stayed silent.
Most branch members didn't mind the seal itself—they understood its protection. What they hated was the injustice, the way the main house twisted Caged Bird into a leash on their very lives.
When the fog lifted the close-quarters clash began; jutsu flew, but Fire and Water Release dominated.
The two elements met, thickening the mist again—yet no one cared now, and scattered screams soon marked where the lines merged.
Except for a few freaks, no Ninja can spam jutsu through an entire fight; on the field, taijutsu and steel are the most Chakra-efficient way to kill.
You never know how long a battle will last, so you count every drop.
Even Shin, with his large reserves, hated waste—why else had he worked so hard on efficient killing techniques?
Mixed in with the rest, Team Three charged into the Mist Ninja.
In the chaos, Kunai and shuriken hissed everywhere; lose track of your surroundings and you'd be bleeding—or dead—in a heartbeat.
Suddenly Shin, still moving, flicked up his left hand and snatched a shuriken without looking. He charged it with a touch of Wind-natured Chakra and flipped it back the way it had come.
A scream rang out as an unlucky Mist Ninja who'd tried to close on their squad was pinned to the ground, finished off by Gekkō Hayate's follow-up.
Whether that shuriken had been his no longer mattered—no one had time to ask.
Yūgao Uzuki crossed blades with a full-grown Mist swordsman; two exchanges and his strength flung her guard wide, baring her center. Grinning like a maniac, he waited for her pretty head to roll—
—but Gekko Yun Jian flashed past, his sword kissing the man's throat.
The Mist Ninja felt the cold, then the girl was on him, driving a second blade into his heart.
Throat and heart—Senju Tsunade herself would shake her head: no saving him.
Team Three moved as one, shielding each other while reaping lives with brutal speed.
Soon the Kirigakure force that had gathered on the second line was punched through; a few quick-witted runners sold out their comrades and escaped, the rest lay where they had fallen.
Never lose your head in a fight—watch the field, and when the odds turn, 'strategically relocate' if you want to live.
Why the direction of that relocation was backward? Don't ask—did I relocate or didn't I?
The mist drifted away, the screams fading with it.
Uchiha Sōsuke glanced over the field and ordered, "Sweep fast—watch for traps on the bodies. Put a blade in any Mist bastard still breathing. Treat the wounded; bind them here. The badly hurt and the dead stay for the follow-up unit."
"Sir!" Ninjas fanned out to obey.
"Sensory Ninja—still alive?"
"Here!" Higashino Shin and a tall Hyuga with a high ponytail answered at once.
Shin knew him—Hyuga Homaru, two years older and Anko's classmate. With a sensor of Shin's level along, only one Hyuga had been assigned.
Byakugan were scarce on the Eastern Front; other sectors needed them more.
Off to the side, dog-handlers and bug-users were already converging.
Uchiha Sōsuke told them, "Sweep the area—make sure no one's hiding. This ground is to be absolutely secure."
"Yes, sir!" They scattered at once.
Ninja are masters of hiding; there's always someone with a trick to slip a blade between your ribs when you're not looking.