Four molten magma orbs surrounded Uchiha Tatsumi. The air shimmered with intense heat, and he felt as if his skin might begin to sear.
Just as the magma orbs were about to engulf him, a piercing crack split the air.
In an instant, four bolts of lightning-style chakra struck the orbs mid-air, disrupting their formation and splitting them apart. The magma hissed as it splattered harmlessly to the ground.
A flash of silver light swept by, so close it brushed Uchiha Tatsumi's bangs. The razor edge of the blade shimmered, the killing intent behind it chilling. Tatsumi, drenched in sweat and on the verge of releasing a jutsu, froze—his technique failed to form.
In that instant, he suddenly recalled what Yura had once said: "I was on the battlefield, but I was so scared I couldn't even perform the Three Basic Techniques."
Uchiha Tatsumi hadn't believed it then. Now he did.
Just a few centimeters closer, and that blade would've split his skull. If his chest were just slightly broader, he might've been carved up like grilled meat.
His heart pounded—not in fear, but exhilaration. There was only one person he knew with swordsmanship this precise.
Yes—it could only be—
"The Hachininken are here!"
…
Eight dogs appeared between Uchiha Tatsumi and the Four-Tails' jinchūriki, each one wearing stylish vests and sunglasses. They struck bold poses as if stepping onto a fashion runway.
The yellow-furred dog in front squinted at the lava-wielding enemy and said in a low, confident voice, "So we finally found you—the Four-Tails' jinchūriki."
"He doesn't look like much," grumbled the black dog to his left.
"Exactly."
The other dogs chimed in, voices overlapping. The area suddenly felt less like a battlefield and more like a crowded street corner.
Lao Zi's already red face darkened. He detested being addressed as "the Four-Tails' jinchūriki," and now he was being mocked—by a bunch of dogs.
Scowling, he stepped forward, ready to turn them into roasted mutts. But before he could act, a white streak of light appeared in front of Uchiha Tatsumi, swift as a meteor.
If not for the Sharingan's dynamic vision, Tatsumi wouldn't have even seen the figure arrive.
The man who landed wore the standard flak jacket of a Konoha jōnin, his white hair tied back in a neat ponytail. A short sword rested across his back, gleaming with battle-worn steel.
It was none other than Sakumo Hatake, the famed White Fang of Konoha. He gave a curt nod to Tatsumi as he surveyed the scorched battlefield.
Uchiha Tatsumi exhaled in relief. With Sakumo here, it meant there was still hope. There was no way he'd die now.
He wasn't sure why Sakumo had shown up, but he was grateful. Deep down, he silently swore: If you really do die like in the original timeline, I'll take care of Kakashi and your wife. You have my word, old man.
"Are you alright?" Sakumo asked, his eyes never leaving Lao Zi.
"I'm fine. Chakra's low, but I can still move," Tatsumi replied.
"Why are you here, though?"
"Mission," Sakumo replied tersely. He was never one for small talk.
But Tatsumi's blood stirred. "Are you here to capture the Four-Tails' jinchūriki?"
Sakumo's expression stiffened.
In truth, his assignment was reconnaissance—track Lao Zi's movements and report back. Engaging was never part of the mission.
Jinchūriki weren't low-level threats. They were strategic weapons—each one equal to a Kage in power. Sakumo knew even he might not defeat Lao Zi one-on-one.
But how could Tatsumi know that? All he knew was that Sakumo Hatake was a living legend.
"Alright!" Tatsumi shouted. "Let me show you what real skill looks like!"
Lao Zi's expression darkened further. He was a seasoned shinobi from the same generation as the Third Tsuchikage. To have a brat barely out of his teens claim he'd be captured—it was intolerable.
His eyes flared like molten rock. The killing intent surged.
Sakumo's eye twitched. This kid had just painted a giant target on his back—and then passed the aggro to him.
Sensing the rising tension, the yellow dog backed away quickly. "Well, you've got this covered, Sakumo. We trust you. We'll take our leave now."
Poof!
The dogs vanished in a cloud of smoke.
Tatsumi gulped, now staring into the eyes of an enraged jinchūriki.
"Uh, Sakumo-san, I just remembered—I have to go help Mikoto and Yuki. Super important."
As he turned to flee, Sakumo called out, "Wait. How much chakra do you have left?"
"About a third. Why?"
"I heard you completed an A-rank mission recently. And during that, you took out two jōnin."
"Hold on. Are we talking about me here?" Tatsumi interjected, sweating. "That mission was a fluke! I nearly died like five times!"
Sakumo didn't answer. "Orochimaru told me himself. Said you have a natural talent for genjutsu—even he'd consider recruiting you."
Tatsumi's stomach dropped. Uncle Snake! I know you like to brag about your disciple, but come on—don't turn a spar into a legend!
Sakumo's message was clear: he couldn't beat Lao Zi alone. But with Tatsumi's genjutsu support, he might have a chance.
Tatsumi sighed. "Heavy-duty ninjutsu's out of the question—but I can manage some mid-level genjutsu without burning too much chakra."
"Good," Sakumo said. "Your job is to harass and disrupt him with illusions. I'll engage him directly."
Seeing the steely calm in Sakumo's eyes, Tatsumi nodded reluctantly.
"…Alright. Let's do this."
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