Konoha’s Five-Element Ninja

Chapter Nine: The Defeat of Iwagakure's Forces

The distant battlefield did not escape the observation of sharp-eyed observers. The moment the massive chakra construct disappeared, several Iwagakure shinobi, who had unknowingly reached the edge of the battlefield, quickly broke off combat and fled without a second thought.

Surviving a chaotic battlefield required more than just skill—it demanded a keen sense of judgment.

Konoha's forces, of course, noticed these Iwagakure shinobi retreating first. But pursuing them was futile. Once shinobi with great mobility committed to an escape, stopping them—especially on an open plain—was nearly impossible. The only viable strategy was to mop up the remaining Iwagakure forces, crushing their core strength.

Overhead, an eagle soared into the rainy sky, its sharp cries cutting through the din of battle. The sound renewed Konoha's morale, inspiring the shinobi to fight even more ferociously.

Hayama stood amidst the chaos, his uniform in tatters. The once-pristine Konoha combat attire now hung on him in shreds, exposing lean, muscular arms. His characteristic caution had led him to stay near the battlefield's periphery. For him, victory was secondary—survival was paramount. But who didn't appreciate a favorable turn in battle?

Hearing the eagle's signal, Hayama straightened up, stealing a glance at his teammates. Their conditions were poor. Tatsu clutched his sword, gasping for breath, his body marred by seven or eight cuts, his chakra reserves clearly depleted. Yura fared worse, a deep, ten-centimeter gash on her back still bleeding profusely, the flesh beneath the torn uniform pale from the rain's relentless onslaught. Without prompt treatment, she risked falling unconscious from blood loss.

Taking stock of the situation, Hayama retrieved a roll of bandages from his left pouch and handed it to Tatsu, signaling him to tend to Yura's wound. Tatsu hesitated briefly, then took the bandages and approached Yura.

Relieved, Yura's body gave out as she slumped to the ground. She realized she had narrowly escaped death. Gazing at Hayama, her expression turned complicated.

While Tatsu worked to bind Yura's wound, Hayama remained alert, scanning their surroundings for any signs of Iwagakure counterattacks.

On a chaotic battlefield, no one received timely medical attention. The lucky ones were those who died quickly, rather than enduring slow, agonizing blood loss as their strength ebbed away.

As Tatsu carefully removed Yura's blood-soaked flak jacket, revealing the black inner layer beneath, he found himself awkwardly averting his gaze. After shaking his head and muttering under his breath, he applied pain-relief and hemostatic powder liberally to the wound. Yura winced, gripping Tatsu's arm tightly as the pain intensified. Tatsu grimaced in response but refrained from pushing her away, instead focusing on the task while reluctantly taking in a few more glances than he should.

When the initial shock of pain subsided, Yura caught Tatsu's lingering gaze and flushed slightly. With a cold snort, she grabbed a kunai and feigned a stabbing motion.

"Cut it out."

Recognizing his misstep, Tatsu averted his eyes, then wrapped the wound swiftly and stood up.

"Tatsu, hand over your flak jacket," Hayama instructed.

Tatsu froze mid-step, his face etched with frustration. But he complied without complaint, shrugging off his green flak jacket and tossing it to Yura.

"Women, always trouble," Tatsu muttered under his breath.

While the bandaging was underway, the battlefield began to shift dramatically. Realizing the tide had turned, the remaining Iwagakure forces lost their resolve. Lacking clear leadership, they tried to scatter and escape. Only a small number succeeded; most were pushed back into the encirclement formed by Konoha's shinobi.

Hayama understood what lay ahead. The most brutal phase of the battle—the extermination—was about to begin. Desperate enemies would fight to the bitter end. He glanced at his nearly depleted chakra reserves, signaled to Tatsu, and prepared to rejoin the fray.

"Tatsu, come with me. Yura, fall back and rest."

Though every fiber of his being protested, Hayama knew he had no choice but to press on. The ever-watchful barrier squad monitored the battlefield from start to finish, ready to punish any attempt at desertion. Dying under enemy fire was one thing—being executed by your own comrades was another.

...

The battlefield eventually fell silent once more. The once-flat plain had been transformed into a cratered wasteland. Roughly five hundred remaining Iwagakure shinobi clustered together, rallying around a newly chosen leader in a last-ditch attempt to break free and return home.

Konoha's seven hundred surviving shinobi, meanwhile, stood tense. They knew what was coming: a desperate, all-out charge by cornered warriors. And they understood the stakes. A united push by five hundred trained shinobi could wreak untold havoc before it was contained.

It was Iwagakure who broke the stillness. First came a barrage of flying rocks—an overwhelming display of their collective ninjutsu.

"Earth Style: Iron Mouth Cannon!"

Then came another assault from the ground itself.

"Earth Style: Tearing Earth Palm!"

Facing such large-scale coordinated attacks, Konoha's disciplined ranks responded in kind.

"Wind Style: Gale Net!"

Dozens of wind-wielding shinobi combined their chakra, forming a razor-thin but incredibly sharp net. The airborne rocks disintegrated as they hit the slicing wind barrier, nullifying the first wave of attacks. But as the ground trembled under the second wave of Iwagakure's jutsu, Konoha shinobi didn't flinch; they unleashed their next collective technique.

"Fire Style: Dragon Flame Bomb!"

"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"

The massive dragon-shaped flames surged forward, fueled by the wind-enhanced chakra. Even through the rain-soaked air, their ferocity illuminated the battlefield, casting long, flickering shadows. When the opposing ninjutsu collided, the ensuing explosions left a trail of carnage and scattered limbs, a grim counterpoint to the unrelenting downpour.

After several exchanges of devastating jutsu, the Iwagakure forces began to crack. Konoha's disciplined cohesion thwarted every attempt at a coordinated breakout. Desperation started to take hold, and the once-unyielding Iwa shinobi found themselves slipping toward panic.

Then came the breaking point. One Iwagakure shinobi let out a primal, anguished roar, and others followed suit. The ranks fragmented. With no other options left, they abandoned all pretense of order and surged outward in all directions, trying to force a path to freedom.

Hayama gritted his teeth. He knew this was the bloodiest phase. Taking stock of his chakra reserves one last time, he signaled Tatsu and charged toward a lone Iwagakure shinobi.

The Iwagakure shinobi was wiry and young, clad in the standard combat attire. A faceless combatant in the chaos. But Hayama's cautious nature meant he never underestimated anyone. He activated his newly learned Hardening Technique, lowered his body into a ready stance, and dashed forward, his kunai gleaming. Tatsu shadowed him from a blind angle, his sword poised like a coiled viper.

Seeing Hayama's approach, the Iwagakure shinobi scowled. His chakra was nearly depleted from the prolonged battle. With his remaining energy, he would have to rely on taijutsu alone. Taking a deep breath, he set his stance, confident that a young, underdeveloped opponent couldn't possibly match his martial skill.

He was wrong.

Hayama's kunai met the enemy's blade mid-slide, locking it in place. With a sharp twist, Hayama shifted his weight and drove his other kunai downward. But the Iwa shinobi was no amateur; he lashed out with a kick that knocked Hayama off balance, sending him staggering sideways. Capitalizing on the moment, the Iwa shinobi launched another kick aimed squarely at Hayama's face—a potentially disfiguring blow.

Just before the strike landed, Tatsu appeared like a phantom. Snatching the shinobi's foot from midair, he grinned and brought his sword down in a lethal arc. With no way to pull his leg back in time, the Iwa shinobi raised a kunai in a desperate bid to block the incoming blade.

The sudden loss of balance left Hayama vulnerable, but he spotted an opening. With a swift and decisive motion, he brought his foot up in a brutal kick.

Crunch

The unmistakable sound of something delicate shattering reverberated through the air. Tatsu reflexively squeezed his legs together, a cold shiver running down his spine. The Iwa shinobi's eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Tatsu grimaced, finishing the job with a clean slash before tossing the limp body aside. He then turned to Hayama, his expression a mix of disbelief and morbid respect.

Hayama, wiping his blade clean, shrugged off the awkward moment. In the heat of battle, every move was survival-driven. The rest was just collateral damage.