As soon as Senmei Asahi switched places with Namikaze Minato using the Flying Thunder God Technique, the battlefield erupted into chaos once again. His sudden arrival startled the group of Iwagakure shinobi that had been charging forward. But there was no time for surprise. Before any of them could react, Asahi's body blurred into motion.
With a sharp breath, he clenched his fist and drove it forward. His knuckles cracked against the chest of the leading Iwa ninja with crushing force. The man's ribs gave way with a sickening crunch, and the momentum of the punch sent him flying backward like a wrecking ball. The unlucky shinobi behind him were flattened in a brutal domino effect. The group was launched more than twenty meters before collapsing in a heap, unmoving and silent—some dead on impact, others barely breathing.
"Come on!" Asahi called out to Minato without looking back, his black eyes flashing with battle spirit.
Faced with a sea of mid- and low-level Iwagakure forces, something primal awakened in Asahi. He surged forward like a wild tempest, tearing into enemy ranks without hesitation. Every movement was fluid and efficient. His body twisted, ducked, and pivoted, each strike aimed to incapacitate or kill. Blood sprayed across the rocky terrain as his fists connected with armor, flesh, and bone.
What made him truly terrifying wasn't just his taijutsu—it was his ability to jump through space. Amid the brutal close-quarters slaughter, Asahi continued marking targets with the Flying Thunder God seal. A touch on the shoulder. A kunai shoved into the dirt. A palm strike that left more than bruises—it left the mark of death.
When the Iwagakure ninjas tried to surround him, he vanished in a flash of light. Fwoosh! In the next instant, he would reappear behind enemy lines, strike, and vanish again.
It was psychological warfare at its finest.
To be a ninja is to walk hand-in-hand with death. But when confronted by an opponent they couldn't catch, couldn't harm, and couldn't predict, even seasoned shinobi faltered. Fear turned into doubt. Doubt into hesitation. And hesitation on the battlefield was fatal.
That hesitation gave Asahi complete control.
The closer enemies—those brave or foolish enough to engage—fought defensively, clearly aware of their disadvantage. But those farther away? They dared not approach at all. They knew that charging blindly into Asahi's range was suicide.
Even when they managed to coordinate an attack, Asahi would disappear and reappear elsewhere, laughing silently at their futile attempts. If he was ever truly cornered, he would unleash a devastating punch with the strength of a wrecking ball, blasting a path through their formation before teleporting again.
The result?
The Iwagakure army, five thousand strong, couldn't even get close to two men.
When they faced Namikaze Minato, they felt fear. But when they faced Senmei Asahi, they felt something worse: helplessness. The kind of helplessness that made you question your very reason for fighting. The kind of helplessness that made a shinobi hesitate before drawing his kunai.
Despite his overwhelming performance, Asahi could feel it. The toll. The Flying Thunder God Technique was chakra-intensive, and his Super Strength Fist only added to the burden. Each time he vanished in yellow light, it drained more of his reserves. Each time he crushed an opponent with his fist, it burned more of his stamina.
After five minutes of relentless combat, Asahi was nearing his limit. His chakra was dangerously low, and his limbs were beginning to grow heavy. If he continued, he risked collapse on the battlefield. And unlike Minato, he didn't have the chakra control or reserves to sustain high-speed teleportation for extended periods.
Still, the mission had been worth it.
With Asahi drawing the attention and disruption of dozens of Iwagakure troops, Minato had eliminated the jonin—cutting the head from the beast. Without leadership, the remaining shinobi floundered. Their formations crumbled. Their unity shattered.
The moment their command structure fell, they were little more than scattered prey.
Knowing his role was done, Asahi activated the Flying Thunder God Technique one final time.
*Fwoosh!*
He reappeared in a dense section of forest where he'd previously left a seal. Collapsing onto the soft earth, he reached into his pouch, retrieved a soldier pill, and tossed it into his mouth. The bitterness was sharp, but he welcomed it.
Eyes closed, he began to meditate, focusing on restoring his chakra and calming his breath.
This war with Iwagakure was only beginning. There would be no rest after this. But for now, his part in the plan was complete. The burden of the frontline now fell on Minato, who—as always—carried it with the quiet weight of a true leader.
Ten minutes passed. The distant sounds of shouting and steel gradually faded into silence. Then, breaking through the trees with a gust of wind, Minato appeared. His breathing was ragged, and his cloak was torn in several places, but his eyes were calm.
"Asahi." he said, lowering himself to the ground beside him, "It's done. They've retreated."
Asahi sat up and blinked. "All of them?"
Minato gave a tired nod. "They've fallen back. No more Jōnin. No leadership. They've lost the will to fight for now."
A smirk tugged at Asahi's lips. "Two people holding back five thousand. I doubt the history books will even believe it."
Minato chuckled softly, pulling a soldier pill from his pocket. "They'll believe it when they see the battlefield. But don't let it get to your head. This isn't over."
"They'll come back?" Asahi asked.
"Absolutely. And next time, they'll have a counter-strategy. When that happens, it won't be this easy."
Asahi nodded, letting the reality settle in. "Did you manage to take out all the Jōnins?"
"Most of them." Minato confirmed. "I got the key ones—squad leaders, sensory types, battlefield strategists. The rest scattered once they realized what was happening."
"Good." Asahi sighed. "That makes it easier to deal with them if they regroup. The grunts won't be bold without leadership."
He leaned back against a tree, his expression thoughtful. "Do we head to support Kakashi and the others now?"
Beneath that calm voice was a different thought entirely.
'Obito is supposed to 'die' here… if I can reach the scene before his Sharingan is transferred, I can claim the Kamui eye for myself.' The power of Kamui, combined with Flying Thunder God, would make him untouchable. No one in the world would be able to catch him—not even Minato.
But his timing had to be perfect.
Unfortunately, Minato was right beside him. Under the current circumstances, he couldn't act.
"Not yet." Minato said, standing and dusting off his cloak. "Our mission was to hold the reinforcements here. Kakashi, Obito and Rin know that. They're counting on us just as we count on them."
"I understand." Asahi said, hiding the flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
"Besides," Minato continued, looking at the sky, "We just need to stall for three more hours. That's all they need to destroy the Kannabi Bridge. After that, we regroup and head back to support Jiraiya-sama's unit."
Asahi exhaled deeply. "Got it. I'll keep recovering my chakra."
"You've done well, Asahi," Minato said with a tired smile. "I'll keep watch. You rest. If anything happens, I'll call you immediately."
"Yes, Minato-senpai."
The hours passed quietly.
As Minato predicted, the Iwagakure shinobi didn't return. With no Jōnin and no plan, they retreated to regroup and request support. But reinforcements from Iwagakure would take hours to arrive. Strategic meetings, squad formations, orders from Onoki himself—it would all take too long.
And by then, it would be too late.
Three hours later, Minato stood once again.
"It's time. The mission's a success. Let's move, Asahi."
Asahi opened his eyes, fully recovered, his spirit burning.
"Let's go."
*****
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