Tsunade was impulsive, but usually only for a split second.
The impulsiveness she had displayed earlier—which seemed to have fooled even her subordinates, Minato and Choza—was a calculated facade. It was designed to mislead the enemy and create an opening for a breakout.
Of course, if a genuine opportunity to kill Kyu had presented itself, she wouldn't have hesitated. It was like that classic line of trash talk from the gaming legends: "Losing a three-on-one? Do you even know how to play?"
When outnumbered and surrounded, killing the enemy's "carry" or commander is the most effective way to shatter their morale.
Unfortunately, Kyu hadn't let his guard down despite having the absolute upper hand. He had been wary from the start, and her surprise attack failed to take his head.
However, Minato and Choza had been quick on the uptake. Even without an explicit signal, they had seized the moment to launch their own assault, completely disrupting the enemy's formation. After saving Choza, Tsunade had given them a look, and as expected, they had followed her lead and escaped the closing trap.
"Lady Tsunade, what's the plan now?"
Akimichi Choza, having just danced with death, could no longer maintain his usual silence. The moment they were clear of the immediate encirclement, he pressed for answers.
"Now that we've seen their hand, it's time to go all in," Tsunade replied. Having been raised under the influence of her grandfather, Hashirama, her metaphors rarely strayed far from the gambling table.
"Lady Tsunade, the Stone has already gathered at least five squads. If we linger here much longer, I'm afraid..." Minato traded a worried look with Choza and felt forced to step in as the voice of reason.
"Relax, I know what I'm doing," Tsunade said, waving a hand dismissively. "How are your injuries, Choza?"
"It's nothing, just some bruising. It stung for a second, but the stone shards couldn't pierce through my hair's protection."
Choza shook his head. His skin was thick, and his hair could act as a shield much like Jiraiya's Wild Lion's Mane Jutsu. Still, he couldn't hide the flicker of unease in his eyes. He was deeply worried about Tsunade's insistence on playing hide-and-seek with the Iwa ninjas.
It wasn't just his own safety; he was worried their sacrifice might be for nothing. The entire premise of "baiting" the Iwa forces relied on the assumption that Hatani had reached the main camp and was currently leading a massive reinforcement to wipe them out.
But what if...
He acknowledged Hatani's strength, but in a region crawling with Iwa scouts, he couldn't fathom why Tsunade and Minato were so certain the kid could evade every patrol and return safely. Hatani's eyes weren't particularly special, and he wasn't wearing an Aburame's signature sunglasses.
Does the kid have a dog's nose or something? Choza wondered.
"A-choo!"
Hatani, who was currently watching Sakumo Hatake flick the blood off the blade of his short sword, suddenly let out a massive sneeze.
He had no idea the seemingly stolid Choza was badmouthing him behind his back. In fact, his mind was entirely occupied by the scene he had just witnessed: Sakumo killing an Iwa Jonin who now lay on the ground nearby, eyes wide with the shock of a sudden death.
The entire encounter had lasted less than two seconds. It hadn't even gone three rounds. It was a literal flash of combat.
But as he recalled that flicker of blade-light—tracing a path of pale-white electric arcs—only two words came to mind.
Absolute dominance.
This was Hatani's first true evaluation of Sakumo Hatake's kenjutsu. For the first time, he truly understood why even the Sannin held this man in such high regard.
Some say that taking a single craft to its absolute peak is art. In Hatani's eyes, Sakumo's swordsmanship was art.
The art of killing.
When they had stumbled upon the Iwa scouting party, Sakumo—acting as the spearhead of the column—didn't hesitate. With a single blur of motion, the reverse-gripped White Fang had already unzipped the throats of two Iwa Chunin.
By the time the blood began to spray from their necks, the two Chunin only had time to realize they were dead. They collapsed into the red fountains of their own making. By then, Sakumo was already standing next to the Iwa Jonin, who had recognized the "White Fang" and immediately turned to flee.
The short sword lunged toward the Jonin's neck.
The Jonin vanished, replaced by a wooden log. He had used a Substitution Jutsu to narrowly escape the reaper.
But to Hatani's disbelief, Sakumo didn't pause for even a millisecond. As if it were merely the next choreographed step in a dance, he retracted the White Fang from the log and, without even looking, hurled it toward his front-right flank.
An instant later, the Iwa Jonin reappeared in that exact spot—almost as if he were jumping into the blade on purpose.
Relying on his Jonin-level reflexes, the Iwa ninja managed to block the blade with his palm. But Sakumo was like a giant python constricting its prey; he gave the man no room to breathe. Before the Jonin could even try to pull the blade out of his hand, Sakumo's left hand was already gripping the hilt.
Using his right hand to press against the pommel, Sakumo drove the blade forward in one fluid motion.
It sliced through the palm and the throat simultaneously. Like a master dancer performing on the edge of a blade, Sakumo twisted his body to avoid the resulting spray of blood. Without losing a beat, he rejoined the column and continued forward. It was as if he had simply swatted an ant that had dared to crawl onto his path.
The other swordsmen in the unit seemed unfazed. There were no cheers, no gasps of excitement. They simply continued their silent, high-speed march.
Hatani, however, was replaying those few seconds over and over in his mind. It was an encounter brilliant enough to be studied for a year, and as he deconstructed it, he began to see the finer details.
The reason the fight looked so effortless wasn't just because Sakumo was a god-tier combatant. As Hatani analyzed the movements, he identified several key factors he had initially missed.
First was the sheer terror. The three-man Iwa squad had suddenly run into a force dozens of times their size, led by the White Fang himself. Their courage had evaporated instantly. If they had maintained their composure, they might have stood a fraction of a chance, but in their panic, they were already dead men walking. That was why the two Chunin stood there like statues while their throats were cut.
Second, Sakumo's "omniscience" regarding the Jonin's reappearance point wasn't just intuition—it was perfect teamwork.
Only through meticulous recall did Hatani realize that when Sakumo lunged, the elite swordsmen behind him hadn't just stood there watching the "art of killing." Three Jonin and five Tokubetsu Jonin had immediately fanned out.
Much like the ancient military tactic of "besieging three sides and leaving one open" to prevent a cornered enemy from fighting to the death, these eight experts had effectively cordoned off every escape route for the Iwa Jonin—except for the opening to Sakumo's front-right.
It was a trap laid by nine men.
Blinded by panic and the singular urge to survive, the Iwa Jonin lost his ability to judge the battlefield. He ran straight into the only "exit" available, right into Sakumo's waiting blade.
The more Hatani replayed it, the more resolute he became.
I have to learn kenjutsu from Sakumo Hatake!