Shanks' face carried nothing but conviction.
He was already prepared for the possibility of death, but if that was how the day ended, then so be it—because he would make sure that every shinobi who had co to attack the Land of the Uzumaki would be buried here. None would escape.
That resolve didn't belong to Shanks alone.
Every Uzumaki sibling fighting around him carried the exact sa belief—absolute, unwavering, and sharpened by years of grief and hatred. Their single goal was clear: no shinobi from Kirigakure or Kumogakure would leave this island alive.
They still rembered everything.
The screams.
The desperate flight through the wilderness.
Their families—parents, uncles, cousins—cut down as they ran.
Their clan butchered and scattered.
Shanks' own father collapsing while shielding them in the retreat.
Those mories never faded.
And at the centre of all that suffering stood the sa two villages now attacking them again—Kumogakure and Kirigakure.
So today, the Uzumaki had made their decision.
Not one of those shinobi would survive to repeat history.
…
Shanks t the Raikage head-on, their first clash sending another wave of force breaking across the water.
Even in the heat of battle—even after watching thousands of enemies fall—Shanks kept his composure. Anger burned inside him, yes, but he refused to let it cloud his senses.
His observation sharpened, narrowed, locked completely on the Raikage's movents.
If he lost focus, he couldn't use his Observation Haki: Future Sight.
And without that ability, he couldn't defeat soone as fast as the Third Raikage in a short period of ti.
So Shanks forced himself into a controlled state—mind empty, emotions sealed away, instincts and training doing the work. It was a level of discipline only possible for soone who had mastered both his power and himself.
The Raikage hamred forward with lightning exploding around his arms, and Shanks t every blow with precise sword strikes.
Each collision filled the air with thunder-like detonations. Shockwaves rippled out in all directions, tearing the water away from their feet and slamming into the surrounding ocean.
If the Raikage hadn't covered his fists with lightning chakra, he wouldn't have lasted a second. Shanks's swordsmanship was simply too sharp—each swing carried enough force to slice through steel, flesh, or bone without hesitation.
The Third Raikage could feel that sharpness with every impact, and for the first ti in a long while, excitent flickered in his eyes.
This was a real fight—dangerous, demanding, one that pushed him.
Until now, he had suffered only a single wound in his life—and even that ca from his own attack, never from an opponent.
But Shanks was different.
For the first ti, the Raikage could sense a genuine threat standing in front of him.
Just as Shanks and the Third Raikage continued clashing, a sudden surge of chakra rippled through the ocean beneath them. All around Shanks, the water twisted upward and took shape—several massive water sharks forming from the sea itself, their jaws snapping wide as they lunged toward him.
Shanks had already seen it coming.
His Future Sight kicked in, showing him every angle and timing of the attack before it even happened. With a small shift of movent, he slipped out of the path of each shark, dodging every bite with precise footwork.
But Shanks didn't stop at dodging.
Timing his steps perfectly, he maneuvered the Raikage forward—placing him directly into the spot where the sharks were about to hit.
The next mont, the water constructs slamd into the Raikage instead, trying to tear him apart.
Lightning crackled violently around him as he broke free, and fury exploded across his face.
He spun toward the Mizukage and shouted,
"What do you think you're doing, Mizukage!? Are you planning to stab in the back!?"
The Mizukage's eyes narrowed, his tone calm despite the accusation.
"I was only trying to help. And like I warned you earlier—he can see future attacks. He must have known I was coming for him, and he moved. You were in the position he lured him to, so naturally, the attack hit you instead."
The Raikage grit his teeth, realizing Shanks had just used both of them at once—and gotten away untouched.
Still Third Raikage snapped,
"Stop interfering in my fight! Stick to the plan. I'm more than enough to handle Shanks on my own."
The Mizukage frowned, refusing to back down.
"I don't take orders from you. My role is to support my Kirigakure ninjas against the Uzumaki siblings—but if I see an opening to take down Shanks Uzumaki myself, I will use it."
The Raikage clicked his tongue. Arguing was pointless; the Mizukage wouldn't listen, and wasting breath now would only give Shanks more chances. He forced his attention back to the red-haired swordsman in front of him. The next clash was already coming.
anwhile, the Uzumaki siblings had their own battlefield to manage.
Two Jinchuriki had appeared—one host to the Two-Tails, and the other, the Three-Tails, the sa beast that Shanks had defeated once before.
As soon as the Three-Tails Jinchuriki erged, Antares took to the sky in his dragon form, wings beating as he prepared to face the massive chakra creature again.
The other Jinchuriki—wreathed in the Two-Tails' blue flas—charged forward only to be intercepted by Guy, who t him head-on without hesitation.
The war had fully broken open on every front.
But before engaging the Two-Tails Jinchūriki, Guy did sothing else.
He extended both arms over the ocean, and the water beneath his palms surged as if grabbed by an invisible hand. Using sheer water chakra control, he scooped up a massive volu of sea water—and with it, the unconscious bodies floating inside.
With a powerful heave, he dragged one thousand fainted Kumogakure and Kirigakure shinobi out of the water, then hurled them onto the shore like a crashing tide.
The bodies rolled across the sand, piled together in front of the Uzushiogakure Academy graduates—now under Benimaru's command.
Those fresh graduates stared wide-eyed at the mountain of enemy shinobi, waiting silently for instructions.
Benimaru didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward and said,
"In the next half hour, these ninjas will wake up. And when they do, they will be your opponents."
A hush fell over the students.
"I know their number is large," Benimaru continued, "but that is no excuse. What you have trained in is the sealing arts of the Uzumaki clan. Whether you seal one enemy or five enemies—it makes no difference. Your strength lies in how cleverly you apply your techniques."
His eyes sharpened.
"At minimum, each of you must take down ten shinobi. That is the standard. Prove you deserve the headband you wear."
Benimaru continued speaking, his voice firm and steady.
"I'll be watching over you. And I'm not going to throw around empty threats like 'I'll let you die if you fail.' None of you are dying today. Every one of you will survive. I'll protect you, and I'll guide you through this battle."
He paused, letting those words settle into every young mind staring back at him.
"But listen well—if you want a place under us, among the elite who serve under the Uzumaki siblings, and eventually under the Uzukage himself, then you must prove you're worthy of that position. Show us your capability. Earn your place. Understood?"
The answer ca instantly—loud, unified, and full of resolve.
"Yes!"
The hundred graduates drew themselves up, determination replacing the fear that once clouded their eyes.
anwhile, across the battlefield, the Uzumaki siblings were carving through the opposition.
For them, defeating Jonin was challenging, yes—but far from impossible. The so-called "elite" shinobi of Kirigakure and Kumogakure who managed to stay conscious after Shanks' Conqueror's Haki were still falling one by one.
Against the Uzumaki siblings, even elite Jonin were barely enough to slow them down.
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