Konoha’s Five-Element Ninja

Chapter Thirteen: A Song of Sorrow

Within the Konoha encampment, chaos only deepened. Although Uchiha Kagami had immediately ordered a breakout, completing the command center's mission by force, the morale among the troops had already collapsed. The realization that they were surrounded led most Konoha ninja, after a few initial organized charges, to fall into disarray and fight individually.

The small-unit system—three to four ninja forming a team—was a legacy from the Warring States era and was the best way to leverage ninja strengths. This system allowed teammates to cover each other's weaknesses and significantly increased a squad's combat potential. A well-coordinated team often had the chance to defeat even a superior individual opponent. But it had a glaring weakness: in large-scale battles, once centralized coordination was lost, ninja instinctively fell back on their most trusted teammates, causing the once-unified fighting force to dissolve into scattered skirmishes. The cohesive strength needed for massed frontal assaults became impossible to muster.

Under the leadership of a few strong and reputable ninja, many managed to break through the encirclement. However, several hundred Konoha ninja found themselves trapped and heavily outnumbered, facing an eerily familiar fate to what the Iwa shinobi had suffered not long before.

This sudden shift—from hunter to hunted—left Tsuchiryu Ota, a seasoned Konoha jonin, momentarily stunned. Just a short while ago, he had been leading the charge against Iwa nin, but now he was the prey. The bitter irony was not lost on him.

Ota crouched beside a fallen comrade, grief welling up within him. Outsiders might see him as a high-ranking jonin basking in glory, but in the tumult of large-scale battles, even a jonin had little power to change the tide.

Before him lay a Konoha ninja who had been impaled through the lung. Despite the lethal injury, the man had clung to life—just long enough to deliver a message. If treated promptly, he might have survived thanks to his ninja-hardened body. But surrounded by enemies, no such help would come.

Realizing he wouldn't make it, the dying ninja ceased using chakra to sustain himself. Each breath he took sent blood spurting from his mouth. With great difficulty, he mouthed a few words. Ota leaned in close to hear the man's final message, his own face showing rare sorrow.

Moments later, Ota stood up as the ninja exhaled his last breath. Rain quickly washed away the blood from the fallen man's lips, as well as the grief from Ota's heart. This was the cruel reality of war: no time for mourning, only the relentless harvest of lives.

The dead could finally rest, but the living had to continue struggling.

At Konoha's temporary field hospital, the chief medic convened a war council, meticulously assigning breakout roles. Thanks to the fierce resistance on the front lines, the hospital remained secure for the moment. But that wouldn't last long. The enemy would soon breach their defenses.

Inside the hospital tent, over two hundred injured ninja awaited. Fifty of them were too grievously wounded to move, while most of the others could only manage slow, halting steps.

Fully aware of how little time they had, the chief medic didn't waste words. He approached a ninja lying with his abdomen heavily bandaged, preparing to help him up. Before he could, a calloused hand stopped him.

Looking up, the chief medic met the determined gaze of the injured man, his face hardened with resolve.

"Cut it out! Take the others and get moving. Give me a kunai—I'm going back out there!" the man barked, his gruff tone betraying years of battlefield experience.

His harsh words shattered the silence. "What's wrong with all of you? Too weak to even stand after a meal? Pathetic!" he growled as he pulled on his forehead protector and made his way toward the exit.

From the back of the tent, another ninja stood—a man missing an arm. "I've had it with your big mouth! Always going on about how you were the Second Hokage's bodyguard, looking down on everyone, hogging all the best food. I'm coming with you, just to shut you up once and for all!"

The charged atmosphere inside the tent completely shifted. The other wounded, inspired by the spirited exchange, found their courage. The once-silent tent erupted into a chorus of defiance.

"Like hell I'm letting you two show me up. Count me in!"

"Exactly! That guy stole my drumstick last time—time to pay him back!"

"My family's fought for Konoha for three generations. I can't let the line end with me!"

The tent burst into chaotic, defiant chatter. Every injured ninja who could stand grabbed their gear, hurling playful insults at one another as they limped out to fight.

The chief medic stood by, his eyes glistening. He watched as the wounded made their way toward the fray, a mix of pride and sorrow swelling within him.

"Hey, you at the front—just make it quick, yeah?" one heavily injured ninja called out. "I signed up during Konoha's tenth draft—I'm not about to be taken a prisoner by those scum!"

The medic froze at the remark, tears silently spilling from his eyes.

"Quit crying like a kid! Just cut my throat, and I'll die a Konoha hero, haha!"

"Yeah, yeah. It's less painful that way," another chimed in.

"No way! Straight to the heart's better—my neck's all bandaged up!"

"Shut up! Throat's the way to go!"

"Heart!"

"Throat!"

"Heart!"

A spirited argument over the best way to die broke out among the seriously wounded.

"Fine, just gouge out my eyes after. I'm a proud Uchiha!"

The bickering stopped for a moment, and everyone turned to him.

"Please! With that one-tomoe Sharingan, even a dog wouldn't want it!"

Laughter erupted once more. Their irreverent banter might have seemed insignificant in the larger scope of the battle, but it was a poignant reminder of their unyielding spirit. In their own way, these dying warriors sang a final song—one of dignity and defiance.

...

Far from the hospital's somber heroics, **Hayama** had no knowledge of the tragedy unfolding behind him. All he could think about was surviving to return home. He wasn't a savior, nor was he strong enough to change the tides of war. All he could do on this rainy night was focus on living another day.

Hours passed. The rain intensified, and the small group's cautious approach kept them concealed. In the pitch darkness, visibility was limited to just a few meters. Without a sensor ninja, the enemy patrols were essentially blind, and sensor ninjas were too rare to be stationed everywhere. This gave **Hayama** and his team a sliver of hope.

If only his squad had a Hyūga ninja, **Hayama** thought wistfully. Their Byakugan, paired with the clan's combat techniques, was unrivaled for reconnaissance. Even a novice Hyūga could outperform a typical sensor. But those elite scouts were reserved for top-tier squads. For someone like **Hayama**, a Hyūga teammate was an impossible luxury. Still, he couldn't help but dream of how much easier this night would have been with one on his side.

After an hour of careful maneuvering, the team stumbled across their second set of corpses that night—this time, a larger group. The bodies were from various factions, revealing the chaos of the battlefield. Two Konoha ninja lay among them, alongside five Sand ninja and three Rock ninja. Two for eight—an impressive outcome under ambush conditions.

Despite the grim sight, **Hayama** couldn't suppress a surge of excitement. His chances of survival were looking up.

Taking a closer look, he analyzed the fading tracks in the muddy ground, piecing together what had happened. Judging by the brief, violent struggle, the trapped Konoha ninja had fought back fiercely, breaking through the enemy's net in mere moments. The scattered footprints suggested a significant number had escaped—at least ten, **Hayama** estimated.

For those who had died here, it was a tragic end. But for **Hayama** and his team, these corpses were a blessing in disguise. The breach left by these "big fish" provided a vital escape route for smaller prey. The only thought in **Hayama's** mind now was to slip through that opening before the enemy patched the net.

For now, their only duty was to survive.