The entire army of the Allied Shinobi Forces was divided into five divisions. The First Division was led by Darui, the Second by Kitsuchi, the Third by Kakashi, the Fourth by Gaara, and the Fifth by Mifune. Gaara was appointed as the regintal commander of the entire army, while the Raikage stood as the supre commander.
Inside the battlefield headquarters, a tense stillness lingered in the air. Among the Kage, Onoki, the Raikage, and Tsunade were present, seated with sharp, attentive expressions. Gaara, the Kazekage, was already leading the Fourth Division on the frontlines, and Terumi i, the Mizukage, had taken charge of protecting the Daimyo of all major nations.
They remained here not rely as a reserve of overwhelming strength, but as the core of strategic command—ready to respond to any ergency that might arise. Maps lay spread before them, marked with shifting positions and coded signals, while intelligence reports continued to flow in. Based on that information, they would offer their judgnt and issue precise orders to Shikaku, ensuring that every movent of the army remained calculated.
The five divisions were spread across different regions, each prepared to counter any form of attack from Obito’s forces. anwhile, Inoiki and Naruto were held back as trump cards—silent, decisive forces ant only for the direst situations.
They were not to move unless absolutely necessary.
Only when a division faced a threat great enough to risk total annihilation would they be deployed. And that decision—when to move, and where to strike—rested entirely in Inoiki’s hands.
He alone would control the timing of their entry into the battlefield.
He alone would decide where Naruto would fight.
...
All the preparations were complete, the tension stretched to its limit, and the battle was already imminent.
Then, finally—
The Fourth Shinobi War began.
Kabuto made his move.
From the shadows, he began deploying his forces like pieces on a vast chessboard, each step calculated, each placent deliberate. He already had detailed information on the Allied Shinobi Forces—their structure, their commanders, their strengths—and he intended to use it to its fullest. The best possible opponents were assigned to counter each division, aiming to dismantle the very formations Shikaku had carefully constructed.
As the five divisions settled into their respective locations, maintaining formation and vigilance, the battlefield remained eerily still for a brief mont.
Then, without warning—
From the ground itself, in front of them and all around them, figures began to erge.
White Zetsu.
One after another, in overwhelming numbers, they surfaced through the earth as if the land itself was birthing them. It was the Mayfly technique—silent, undetectable until the very mont of attack. Pale forms rose from the soil, their eerie grins stretching as they surrounded the divisions.
For a split second, confusion rippled through the ranks.
This was a surprise attack.
Most of the shinobi had little to no understanding of White Zetsu’s true nature or abilities. They reacted on instinct, striking vital points—hearts, necks, heads—assuming it would be enough. Blades pierced through flesh, kunai sank deep, jutsu landed cleanly.
But the White Zetsu did not fall.
So twisted unnaturally, others reford, their bodies refusing to collapse the way a human’s would. The realization ca quickly, but not quickly enough.
They could not be killed so easily.
To eliminate them, their bodies had to be destroyed in large portions—torn apart, obliterated beyond simple fatal wounds. Anything less would only delay them.
Damn it... they’re not human.
The shinobi adapted, but adaptation ca at a cost.
In those initial monts of confusion, several ninjas fell—caught off guard, surrounded before they could adjust, their defenses breaking under the sudden assault. The battlefield erupted into chaos, the sound of clashing steel, explosive jutsu, and desperate commands filling the air.
Yet, as the monts passed, the divisions began to regain their footing.
Patterns were recognized. Weaknesses were understood. Attacks grew more precise, more destructive—aid not at killing in the conventional sense, but at completely dismantling the enemy. Techniques widened in scale, strikes beca heavier, and slowly, the tide began to stabilize.
The White Zetsu were difficult to kill—but not impossible.
The shinobi found their rhythm, coordinating their efforts, countering and cutting them down in increasing numbers. Still, the damage had been done.
The surprise attack had served its purpose.
Several lives had already been lost, and the opening blow of the war had been struck—ssy, sudden, and unforgiving.
...
As the chaos of the initial assault began to settle and the shinobi gradually regained control of the battlefield, Kabuto initiated the next phase of his plan.
Across the different regions where the divisions were stationed, multiple coffins began to rise from the ground.
One after another.
The earth cracked open, and the wooden lids creaked as they erged, standing upright like grim monunts scattered across the battlefield. For a brief mont, everything seed to pause—as if the war itself held its breath.
Then, the lids began to open.
From within those coffins stepped out figures that should have never walked the land again.
Reanimated ninjas.
So of the most elite and powerful shinobi from the past erged, their eyes lifeless, their movents controlled, yet their presence overwhelmingly oppressive. On the battlefield of the Fourth Division, the air grew heavier as multiple forr Kage appeared—legends who had once shaped the very history of the shinobi world.
The Second Tsuchikage.
The Second Mizukage.
The Fourth Kazekage.
The Third Raikage.
Nas that carried weight, now standing once more, but as enemies.
Elsewhere, in front of Kakashi and his division, the Seven Ninja Swordsn of the Mist appeared, their massive blades gleaming ominously as they took their stance. Across every division, similar scenes unfolded—powerful figures of the past returning to the battlefield, turning the tide into sothing far more dangerous.
This... just escalated.
The news of the reanimated ninjas spread quickly and soon reached the headquarters.
Inside, the atmosphere tightened.
As soon as the Raikage, Tsunade, and Onoki heard the reports, a flicker of concern crossed their expressions. The situation had beco far more complicated than a simple large-scale battle. This was no longer just about numbers—it was about facing legends reborn.
Still, they did not panic.
They had faith in the Allied Shinobi Forces.
They knew that most of the battlefields could still be handled, that the divisions would adapt and endure. But one thing was imdiately clear—the Fourth Division could not be left as it was.
Not against opponents like those.
Before the Raikage could speak and issue an order, Onoki slowly rose from his seat, his expression firm, his aged eyes sharp with resolve.
"I will go to the battlefield of the Fourth Division," he said.
His voice was calm, but carried undeniable authority.
"Lord Mu can use Dust Release just like . Not only that, he can completely hide his presence—he won’t be detected by sensory ninjas at all." He paused briefly, his gaze hardening. "And that’s not all. Lord Mu is extrely dangerous... he can perform fission, dividing himself into two separate entities."
A faint heaviness settled in the room as his words sank in.
"So," Onoki continued, straightening slightly despite his age, "it will be best if I go to the Fourth Division battlefield myself."
If anyone can deal with him... it has to be .
As soon as the Raikage heard this, he gave a firm nod. As the supre commander of the Allied Shinobi Forces, his decision carried absolute authority.
"Very well," he said, his deep voice steady and resolute. "If you are so well aware of the Second Tsuchikage’s abilities, then you are the best one to deal with him." His gaze sharpened slightly. "But be careful of my father—the Third Raikage. He is not soone who can be taken lightly."
For a brief mont, sothing heavier lingered behind his words.
"If my focus were not on that Madara Uchiha," he continued, his tone tightening just slightly, "I would have personally gone to stop my father."
Onoki nodded, understanding the weight behind those words.
But just at that mont—
Out of nowhere, without warning, a voice echoed directly inside their minds.
"I am sending Naruto to the Fourth Division battlefield."
The voice was calm, clear, and carried unquestionable certainty.
"I know the condition of the other battlefields and the other divisions. Whichever division is getting suppressed by the reanimated ninjas... I will take care of them."
For a split second, silence filled the room.
They all imdiately recognized the voice.
Inoiki.
There was no need to question it. The way it reached directly into their minds, the calm authority it carried—it could belong to no one else. He wasn’t asking for permission. He was informing them.
And in truth... he didn’t need permission.
Right now, on this battlefield, Inoiki stood as an existence who dictated his own movents. Only he could decide his deploynt, and everyone present understood that clearly.
Yet, there was no resistance.
Because they also knew sothing else.
He would not make a mistake.
Everyone in the headquarters—including the Raikage—trusted that Inoiki would make the most optimal decisions based on the situation. He was not reckless. Every move of his would carry purpose.
As his voice faded from their minds, the three of them exchanged brief glances before responding almost simultaneously.
"Yes... okay."
Their agreent was simple, but firm.
Without wasting another mont, Onoki turned and moved. He stepped out of the headquarters, the air outside brushing against his face as the distant sounds of battle echoed faintly across the land.
Then, without hesitation—
He rose into the air and flew straight toward the battlefield of the Fourth Division.
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