Another day dawned, the sun rising behind a thick veil of storm clouds, casting a dim, somber light over the land.
The steady rain drizzled down, its droplets tapping against leaves, stones, puddles—and the hearts of those about to engage in battle.
Konoha's shinobi stood solemnly on the battlefield, awaiting the inevitable attack. This was no longer their first time in battle; they had faced countless encounters already, and the nervousness of those early days had long since faded.
Now, their hearts were steeled, even cold, as they prepared for what was to come.
Gradually, the shinobi from Sunagakure and Iwagakure appeared on the horizon, a dark mass of figures moving closer, silent as reapers come to claim lives.
"They're coming," murmured a Konoha shinobi, his voice steady as he observed the approaching enemy. There seemed to be even more of them than before.
But the Konoha shinobi did not yet move. They were waiting. Waiting for their Hokage, Tobirama Senju.
Sure enough, in the next moment, a lone figure materialized at the forefront of Konoha's ranks.
His appearance was enough to dispel much of the tension among Konoha's forces, giving them a reassuring sense of stability and purpose.
This was their Hokage, the man who had led them through every grueling battle thus far.
"Edo Tensei!"
Wasting no time, Tobirama activated the forbidden jutsu that had allowed Konoha to hold its ground this long.
With a series of hand seals and several unearthly cries, the reanimated shinobi took shape on the battlefield once again.
The resurrected warriors awoke, their gazes clouded with confusion as they took in their surroundings.
"Where am I?"
"What's going on? I thought I was dead…"
"Is this… the shinobi world?"
"Why… am I back here? Have I been resurrected?"
Those unfamiliar with the Edo Tensei muttered questions, looking down at their reanimated bodies and the strange scene before them, struggling to make sense of it all.
Meanwhile, the ones who had been revived in battle before wore dark expressions.
"Damn Tobirama. That bastard dragged us back here again."
"Are we being forced to fight our fellow shinobi? If I ever find him in the Pure Land, I swear—"
"Curse him. Being controlled once more, ugh!"
"I thought death would be an escape, but it seems I'm trapped in an even deeper slaughter."
Their voices were filled with resentment as they cursed Tobirama.
But the anger of the reanimated shinobi faded quickly, their expressions falling blank as their bodies were compelled into action, charging toward the combined forces of Iwagakure and Sunagakure.
"Damn it! Edo Tensei again!"
"Curse that Tobirama, playing with the souls of the dead. May he suffer in hell for eternity for this atrocity!"
"These people were once our heroes, and now we're forced to kill them ourselves!"
"If only we could take down Tobirama himself…"
The shinobi from Iwagakure and Sunagakure hurled curses of their own, bitter at the prospect of fighting former comrades and respected shinobi who, now immortal, could not truly die.
"Attack!"
With a rallying shout, someone from the enemy's side charged forward, and soon, the battle erupted in full.
Konoha's own shinobi charged alongside the reanimated soldiers.
Despite the presence of Edo Tensei warriors, the overwhelming numbers of the Iwagakure and Sunagakure forces made hand-to-hand combat necessary.
The clash rang out, metal striking metal, and for most, close-range fighting was the only option.
Ninjutsu was risky on such a crowded battlefield and might injure one's own allies.
In this way, the battle resembled a brutal hand-to-hand melee, with deadly blades replacing the traditional weapons of war.
A Konoha shinobi was impaled on a blade wielded by an Iwagakure ninja, but, staring his killer down, he used his final strength to plunge his kunai into the man's throat, and both fell dead together.
Elsewhere, a Konoha shinobi managed to defeat an opponent, only to find himself surrounded by more enemies.
In an instant, his body was pierced by a flurry of swords, ending his life swiftly.
"No! Brother, it's me, Muke! Don't you recognize me?" a Sunagakure shinobi cried out, parrying an attack from a reanimated foe.
This undead warrior had once been his older brother, a famous shinobi of Sunagakure. He had sacrificed his life to save his younger sibling, Muke, during an earlier battle.
But now, he attacked his brother without a hint of mercy, his strikes precise and lethal.
Within moments, Muke was covered in cuts.
Finally, the reanimated brother drove his blade into Muke's heart.
"Brother…" Muke gasped, staring into his brother's blank, unseeing eyes as his own life slipped away.
As Muke collapsed to the ground, his brother turned away, seeking his next target without hesitation.
The reanimated felt nothing. They were tools, bound to fight without prejudice.
The carnage spread across the battlefield, and the air grew thick with the metallic scent of blood.
Limbs lay strewn across the ground, and the earth itself seemed to turn red. The world had become a living nightmare, a vision of hell.
"Die, scum!" a shinobi roared, slicing his enemy clean in two, the ground around them soaked in blood and entrails.
Such grisly scenes would turn the stomach of an ordinary person, but to the combatants, it only made them fight harder, their faces twisted with fury.
A young kunoichi had just plunged her kunai into an enemy when a blade slashed across her back, killing her instantly.
Nearby, an older shinobi used the last of his strength to shield a younger comrade, taking a fatal blow in his place. The old man fell, and did not rise again.
Here on the battlefield, there was no gender, no age, no beauty or ugliness.
Here, all were equal in suffering.
Rain continued to fall, washing over the ground, stone, puddles, and bodies.
It pooled in blood, but the deluge could not wash it away; there was too much blood. Instead, the rain made the blood spread, turning the earth crimson.
The air was thick with the scent of death, and corpses littered the ground.
Arms, legs, ears… pieces of flesh…
Thunder rumbled overhead, streaks of lightning illuminating the savage landscape.
The sky seemed to mourn the carnage below, as if urging the combatants to stop before any more lives were lost.
But the blood-drunk shinobi ignored it, brandishing their weapons to claim yet more lives.
Blood flowed more heavily, the dead piled higher, and life lost all meaning. Here, death was the only constant.
This… was war.
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