Konoha’s Five-Element Ninja

Chapter 63: Mountain Storm

As Hayama had expected, the situation deteriorated rapidly. After several probing skirmishes, the Sand shinobi finally deciphered Konoha's defensive positions within the mountain range. With that knowledge in hand, they shifted strategies—moving from localized skirmishes to full-scale concentrated assaults on targeted positions.

A red signal flare streaked into the sky, fired by a dying Konoha shinobi, illuminating the rain-drenched landscape for hundreds of kilometers around.

Hayama lifted his gaze toward the glowing red streak, letting the increasingly heavy rain pelt his face. He didn't blink, allowing the cold droplets to fall into his eyes, searing the image into his mind.

This was one of the two prearranged signals—signifying that the enemy had successfully breached the defensive lines. More importantly, it was a silent memorial—a sign that four Konoha shinobi had just perished.

Uchiha Fugaku's voice broke the silence.

"What now?"

Although Fugaku was technically the team leader, he still sought Hayama's counsel on tactical decisions. Experience mattered in survival, and among them, Hayama had the most battlefield experience.

Hayama wiped the rain from his face and narrowed his eyes.

"How willing are you to gamble?" he asked flatly.

Fugaku's brows furrowed. "Gamble on what?"

Hayama exhaled slowly. "On whether Lord Sakumo has successfully eliminated the enemy forces behind us in these past three days."

Fugaku's instinctive reaction was to shake his head.

Pulling out a waterproof map, he examined it under the dim glow of a small hand-crank flashlight. His Sharingan-enhanced vision quickly mapped out possible enemy movements.

After a brief pause, he put away the map and spoke.

"I doubt it."

It wasn't underestimating Hatake Sakumo—it was simple logic.

Ninja had legs. If they couldn't win, they could run. Completely annihilating a force of well-trained Sand shinobi within a few days was next to impossible—unless their numbers were overwhelmingly superior.

Hayama nodded in agreement, then posed another question.

"Then where do you think the remaining enemy forces will go?"

Fugaku fell into deep thought, his brows tightening.

After some deliberation, he replied, "They'll either regroup with the forces attacking us or hide, waiting for another chance to seize control of the evacuation."

That was all Hayama needed to hear.

Now that he understood the enemy's intent, their next course of action became clear.

Their priority was to regroup with Sakumo, consolidating all available Konoha forces to annihilate the incoming Sand reinforcements. Only by doing so could they secure victory.

By Hayama's assessment, Sakumo had likely already weakened the enemy's rear forces significantly—enough that they no longer posed a major threat. Though the mission had deviated from expectations, it was still headed toward an inevitable large-scale battle.

And that was what Hayama couldn't understand—

If large-scale combat was unavoidable, why had Sakumo divided their forces instead of consolidating them from the start?

Did he really do it just to reduce casualties?

The rain intensified, and Hayama shrugged off his white windbreaker, folding it neatly and sealing it into a scroll. Now clad only in his standard Konoha flak jacket, he felt the cold immediately seep into his skin. His breath became visible as he exhaled.

Uchiha Fugaku followed suit, discarding his own white wind cloak, then spoke decisively.

"Let's move. Staying here is pointless."

Hayama flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders.

There was no argument—they had to retreat now, or risk being trapped and surrounded.

A bolt of lightning suddenly split the sky, momentarily illuminating the rain-drenched mountains.

As a deafening thunderclap shook the air, the four-man squad slipped into the shadows, swiftly retreating toward their main force.

---

By the time they reached Sakumo's position, the situation was grim.

Three days ago, their initial force had numbered over a hundred.

Now, barely forty remained—their bodies battered, breathing ragged, and faces grim with exhaustion.

Sakumo stood alone in the storm, his silver hair matted with rain, eyes fixed on the slow-moving refugee column, lost in thought.

Hayama didn't ask questions.

He simply found a dry patch of rock, sat down, and silently began eating preserved rations.

It was Sakumo's job to make the decisions.

His job was to be prepared to fight.

A competent commander would analyze the battlefield situation and formulate the best possible strategy.

But for Sakumo, there was only one choice left—

To consolidate their forces and prepare for an all-out battle against the approaching Sand reinforcements.

Sakumo, however, was deeply conflicted.

He had always believed that Konoha shinobi should lay down their lives for the village's sake. But now, they were being forced to fight and die for the sake of the Fire Daimyo's politics—for refugees that weren't even native to the Land of Fire.

It felt pointless.

But when he recalled Hiruzen Sarutobi's hardened expression at the meeting, the unyielding authority in his voice, Sakumo knew that defying orders wasn't an option.

At dawn, more Konoha shinobi trickled in.

By morning, the total count had risen to eighty.

The other twenty missing nin… were likely never coming back.

A familiar voice rang out across the rain-soaked encampment.

"FORM UP!"

It was Koshiro Jiro, his left arm heavily bandaged.

The remaining Konoha shinobi quickly assembled, standing in four orderly rows.

There was no fear in their eyes—only determination.

They knew what was coming.

They had all prepared themselves for death.

And they awaited only one command.

Sakumo stepped forward, rain dripping from his chin, his voice calm and firm—

"One squad stays behind to escort the civilians. The rest—"

He raised his sword—

"We march. The Sand shinobi die today."

A single sentence.

But it carried an unshakable resolve, filling the hearts of his men with righteous fury.

They did not hesitate.

They did not fear.

They followed.

---

Twenty kilometers ahead, the Sand shinobi were waiting.

Unlike the previous scattered skirmishes, this time both sides had gathered their full forces—an army of over a hundred battle-hardened shinobi on each side.

The rain had intensified into a torrential downpour, an uncommon phenomenon in winter.

Hayama watched his breath vanish into the cold air, his mind shifting into battle mode.

There were no words exchanged.

No taunts.

No posturing.

There was only the roar of battle cries—

—And then the two sides clashed.

Blood splattered across the muddy battlefield.

Swords clashed. Explosions thundered.

The rain turned red.

Hayama activated his Lightning Release and became a blur—a ghost weaving through the chaos, tearing through the Sand shinobi lines like a knife through silk.

The Sharingan warriors fought alongside him—casting instantaneous genjutsu, hurling kunai with pinpoint accuracy, and butchering disoriented enemies with surgical precision.

But then, a group of elite Sand shinobi descended upon them.

A trap had been sprung.

"Wind Release: Net Trap!"

A massive chakra-formed wind net closed in from the front.

At the same time, a hidden puppet in the shadows fired a barrage of poisoned senbon from above.

A perfect encirclement.

Hayama's eyes narrowed.

His right hand shot toward his chest—

—And with a single explosive motion, he unleashed a wave of pure fire chakra—

The storming flames roared to life, consuming the air—

And the Sand shinobi's expressions twisted in horror.

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You can read advance chapters ahead on patreon.com/fishkiss69, I will upload 1 extra chapter every day there.

THANK YOU

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