Erza wasted no time. Her sharp gaze fixed on the guard commander of the caravan as she gave a crisp order.
"You know what to do."
The commander's expression hardened instantly. Without hesitation, he began rallying his men, but Erza had already turned to her siblings. The Uzumaki brothers and sisters, gathered tightly around her, were tense with anticipation.
"Let's go," Erza commanded.
As one, the siblings nodded, their unity unquestionable. In the next heartbeat, they vanished from their positions, their figures blurring as they sprinted toward the direction of the oncoming threat. Behind them, the guard commander's voice rang out with authority as he ordered the remaining escorts into formation. Shields and swords braced, they quickly surrounded the carriage of the young Daimyo, ensuring that no harm could reach him. His safety was their absolute priority.
Elsewhere, under the ceaseless drizzle of the Land of Rain, Tsunade and Orochimaru moved swiftly across the terrain. Their strides were long and unrelenting, the urgency of their mission driving them onward. Before long, another presence appeared, cutting across their path—a familiar figure.
"Jiraiya," Tsunade called, surprised yet relieved.
He fell into step beside them, his tone grave as he explained.
"I caught wind of the same news—that Hanzō has left Amegakure. I came to confirm it myself. But now it's clear… if he's left with Ibuse, then something enormous must have happened. Hanzō doesn't call on that salamander unless he's preparing for a true battle."
Both Tsunade and Orochimaru exchanged a look, silent agreement passing between them. They needed no convincing. Each of them had faced Hanzō before, had felt the weight of his power firsthand. More than anyone, they understood the kind of storm that was about to break.
As they ran, Tsunade quickly brought Jiraiya up to speed.
"From what we've learned, it was a group of Uzumaki—ten of them—who cut down the entire battalion of two hundred Amegakure shinobi. That's why Hanzō is furious. He's moving to deal with them personally."
Jiraiya's eyes widened in shock.
"Ten Uzumaki… wiped out two hundred of Hanzō's men?" His tone carried disbelief, but almost immediately he exhaled and shook his head. "No wonder he's this angry."
Before long, the three Sannin slowed their pace and came to a halt. They remained at a safe distance, careful not to reveal themselves, and watched the scene unfolding ahead.
There, looming in the rain-soaked clearing, stood Ibuse, Hanzō's monstrous salamander, its massive form radiating menace. Upon its back stood Hanzō himself, silent and imposing. And before him, gathered in formation, were ten figures with striking red hair—the Uzumaki siblings. Their ages varied, some barely in their early teens while others neared adulthood, but all bore the same unmistakable crimson mark of their clan.
The siblings stood firm, their faces hardened as they gazed up at the towering salamander and its master. None faltered.
Hanzō's sharp voice cut through the steady rainfall.
"Are you the ones who killed the shinobi of my village?"
From among them, Erza stepped forward. The natural leader of her siblings, she met Hanzō's gaze and bowed her head slightly, speaking with measured respect.
"Greetings, Lord Hanzō. As for your question… I do not believe we have killed any ninja of Amegakure."
"Hmph." A cold sound escaped Hanzō. His tone sharpened as he pressed further.
"Then answer me this—yesterday, did you not fight against a battalion of shinobi? Did you not slaughter them to the last man?"
Erza's expression did not waver. Her voice remained calm and steady.
"Yes. Yesterday we were ambushed by a battalion. They attacked us without warning, so we retaliated, and in the end, they were all killed. But as for them belonging to Amegakure—there was no proof. They wore nothing that identified them as your shinobi. Their uniforms bore no such mark."
Hanzō narrowed his eyes behind his mask. He knew her words were nothing but a feigned ignorance. His next question came like a blade.
"Tell me—had you known they were Amegakure shinobi, would you have spared them?"
Erza's composure shifted. Her eyes hardened, her voice carrying a cold edge of steel.
"If they had ambushed us and tried to kill us, then no. Their fate would have been the same as that battalion's—death."
Hanzō stood rooted, startled by Erza's unwavering defiance. For a few heavy seconds, the tension hung in the air. His sharp gaze swept across the Uzumaki siblings, noting with growing surprise that none of them displayed the slightest hint of fear. In fact, a few bore expressions of eager anticipation—as if they relished the prospect of facing him. Their lack of intimidation only deepened his respect—yet it did nothing to lessen his resolve.
In a low, resonant voice, Hanzō acknowledged their courage.
"I am pleased to see you are not intimidated by me—and I respect that. But let's make this clear: that doesn't mean your lives are spared. You have slain many shinobi of my village. I will give you a fair chance to fight me with everything you have."
Without breaking stride, Hanzō leaped from the back of Ibuse and landed precisely in front of the Uzumaki siblings. Rain dripped from his shoulders as he stared at them, challenge lacing his words:
"Go ahead and give your all to defeat me—try your best to kill me. If you fail… I will kill every one of you. And know this: while you fight, I will give everything I have as well."
With that, he drew his weapon—a kusarigama (chain sickle). The blade shimmered with a faint sheen darker than the steel should allow—it was coated with Hanzō's lethal poison.
Unfazed, the Uzumaki siblings held their ground. No one flinched. The battle lines were drawn: weapon specialists drew their arms, taijutsu fighters braced their bodies, every heart beat with poised energy.
Erza was first to act. With fluid grace, she invoked her Requip magic and summoned her Black Wing Armor in preparation for the fight. The armor materialized around her with a rush of darkness and steel, wings unfurling like those of a dragon or bat, edged with silver trimming, framing her persona in a dramatic silhouette.
The armor accentuated both her offense and mobility. It granted her the ability to fly, boosting her agility in midair, and sharpened her striking strength. Her scarlet hair tied high, the armor's silver-edged breastplate, fringed with gem-decorated shoulder guards and waistplate, shimmered along with her fierce gaze. She looked unstoppable.
Nearby, Benimaru tightened his grip on his blade, ready for anything. Others mirrored their readiness. Every member of the group was poised and prepared.
The stage was set.
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