The morning after their skirmish at the border was bitterly cold. Mist blanketed the rocky ground beneath Yahiko's boots as he stood at the edge of a broken cliffside, arms folded, cloak fluttering. Below him, the temporary encampment rustled to life—Konan tending to wounded, Nagato speaking quietly with their scouts.
But his attention was focused forward. Toward Kusagakure.
He could feel it in the air—this was no longer a movement in hiding. It was war in its infancy.
"Report," he said as a scout knelt beside him.
"Forward patrols spotted movement along the river basin. Kusagakure's patrols are increasing. And… we've intercepted messages. Hanzo is moving directly against you. He's begun rallying factions within the elders."
Yahiko nodded slowly. "They're trying to cut off support before it begins."
The scout hesitated. "Should we retreat?"
"No," Yahiko said flatly. "We advance."
Inside Kusagakure, political pressure brewed like a thundercloud. Two factions warred silently in chambers and taverns—those who remembered Hanzo's brutality, and those still loyal to Amegakure's puppet strings.
Yahiko's presence became a whispered storm. Not a rogue, but a symbol.
And that made him dangerous.
By dusk, Yahiko stood before the southern gate of Kusagakure. Not hidden in the forest. Not in shadow.
Visible.
"Konan. Take the others. Surround the perimeter. If I don't come out in ten minutes, breach."
"Yahiko—"
"I need to try diplomacy. Just once more."
Nagato gritted his teeth, but nodded.
Yahiko stepped forward, chakra steady beneath his skin.
Two guards blocked his way, weapons raised. But they hesitated.
"You're Yahiko."
"I am."
"You're wanted by Amegakure."
"I'm wanted by tyrants. Not by your people."
The guards exchanged glances. Then, wordlessly, they opened the gate.
The Kusagakure council chamber was more humble than Amegakure's. Smaller. Less gilded. But its air was thicker with tension.
"We know who you are," the head of the council said.
"Good. Saves time."
"You're here to incite rebellion."
"I'm here to warn you. Hanzo will come. And when he does, he will use your silence as justification to claim your land and your people."
"And you offer what? Resistance?"
Yahiko smiled faintly. "Hope."
The chamber fell silent.
Then, an elder rose. "You have ten minutes. Convince us."
Outside the city walls, Konan's scouts spotted the movement first—Amegakure elite units, cloaked in crimson and shadow, weaving silently through the forest.
"They're not coming to talk," Konan said coldly. "Formation Beta."
Yahiko's voice carried in the chamber. "We all want peace. But peace built on fear isn't real. I'm offering a choice. Join us. Don't be shackled by Hanzo's regime. We will protect you."
Suddenly, the door burst open. A Kusagakure shinobi rushed in, face pale.
"Amegakure forces approaching the city walls!"
The chamber erupted in motion.
Yahiko turned toward the council. "Your choice just became urgent."
Outside, the first clash had already begun.
Konan's paper butterflies swirled in the mist, slicing silently into enemy ranks. Nagato's gravitational force hurled a dozen shinobi backward in a single breath.
Yahiko appeared at Konan's side in a blur.
"Status."
"They're not holding back. This is an execution squad."
"Then we don't either."
He stepped forward and raised his hand. The air shifted.
Three shinobi leapt at him.
He redirected their paths—vector slingshotting them into each other mid-air. Before they landed, he slammed them down with a downward force multiplied tenfold.
The ground cracked.
A barrage of shuriken whistled toward him. He flicked his fingers—each one diverted, spinning into the trees.
Konan covered his flank, her paper wings unfolding into massive blades.
"They're retreating?" a scout gasped.
"No," Yahiko muttered. "They're regrouping."
From above the treeline, a new figure descended.
Yahiko's eyes narrowed.
A cloaked figure, taller, masked. Elite.
He landed silently.
Yahiko stepped forward.
"You must be their captain."
The man didn't respond. Instead, he vanished—Body Flicker Technique.
Yahiko barely twisted in time to block the strike. The assassin was fast—unnaturally so.
Vector manipulation kept him alive, redirecting incoming blades, cushioning his falls, repelling kunai. But this enemy… was calculating his powers.
"You're adapting," Yahiko said between clenched teeth.
"You're wasting your gift," the assassin finally spoke, voice mechanical. "Join Hanzo. Rule beside him."
Yahiko launched a piercing strike forward, enhancing it with kinetic force. The assassin slid backward, cloak torn.
"No," Yahiko said.
The next clash was brutal. Explosions of vector pressure shook the battlefield. The assassin moved like a ghost, his strikes sharp, relentless.
But Yahiko adapted faster. Each moment in battle refined his control.
One final move—he seized the air itself, compressing and accelerating it forward in a focused beam.
Boom! The assassin's mask cracked. Blood trickled. He fled, vanishing into the trees.
The forest grew silent.
They had won.
Barely.
Yahiko staggered, Konan catching him.
"You pushed it too far."
"I had to. They'll come again. Stronger."
Nagato appeared, bleeding from his arm. "We need to fortify Kusagakure. Fast."
"Agreed," Yahiko said. "And gather the council."
He looked toward the night sky.
"This was just the opening move."