At a quick scan from the watchtower, Kyuushin estimated three to five hundred Rain shinobi in the assault force. They advanced in a disciplined formation, their movements precise and coordinated—a hallmark of seasoned troops.
Konoha's response was equally sharp. Within two minutes of Orochimaru issuing the order, their ranks snapped into position, ready to counter.
Jonin Koutou Mokume spearheaded the charge, leading a robust unit of about three hundred Konoha shinobi straight at the enemy line. Kyuushin leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed on the unfolding drama below.
Before the armies collided, the sky filled with hurled ninja tools—kunai, shuriken, and explosive tags arcing through the air. Blasts echoed across the plain in rapid succession, kicking up dirt and smoke, but at this distance, the volleys inflicted only superficial harm.
Kyuushin picked up on a subtle shift, though. The Rain shinobi's momentum faltered; their advance ground to a hesitant crawl. Casualties were light, yet the unit's cohesion wavered, as if an invisible weight dragged them down.
When the front lines finally crashed together—mere moments into the true engagement—the Rain formation cracked. Shinobi began peeling away, turning tail in growing numbers, their retreat turning chaotic.
Less than five minutes of tense standoff passed before the Rain unit shattered entirely, fleeing en masse while the pursuing Konoha forces pressed the advantage relentlessly.
"Well fought!" Nawaki whooped from Kyuushin's side, his voice buzzing with adrenaline. Minato's face lit up too, a spark of pride in his eyes at the sight of their comrades claiming victory.
Orochimaru, however, creased his brow in quiet scrutiny. Kyuushin shared the unease—the Rain shinobi's collapse felt off, too abrupt for elite fighters.
"Pull the troops back," Orochimaru commanded curtly, pivoting to descend the watchtower without another glance at the field.
Kyuushin shook his head in mild disappointment and trailed after him. He'd hoped for a glimpse into full-scale shinobi warfare tactics, but this skirmish had fizzled out like a promising storm reduced to scattered drizzle.
"What's your read on that clash?" Orochimaru asked abruptly as they walked, his tone probing yet casual, inviting deeper insight.
"It seemed too straightforward," Kyuushin admitted, matching Orochimaru's stride. "Their lines broke without real pressure—almost like they wanted an out."
Orochimaru dipped his head in acknowledgment, his expression thoughtful. After a brief pause, he circled back: "Could this have been a deliberate feint? A staged retreat to lure us in?"
"Doesn't add up," Kyuushin replied with a casual shrug, keeping his voice steady. "A feigned defeat thrives on hidden reinforcements—ambush squads hitting us mid-pursuit to shred our momentum. But we've tracked the Rain shinobi from their approach to this rout. No flanking units, no reserves in sight. Without a trap to trigger, why bother with the charade?"
Orochimaru inclined his head once more, though puzzlement lingered in his gaze. That was the snag he couldn't unravel. During the earlier night raid on logistics, the Rain shinobi had proven resilient—outmatched by Konoha's veterans, sure, but capable of digging in for a gritty hold. This instant crumble didn't match.
They ducked into the command tent, where Orochimaru dropped into a chair and steepled his fingers, sinking into contemplation. Kyuushin watched for a beat before venturing: "Orochimaru-sensei, with the Land of Rain as our opponent this time, did the village outline clear-cut goals for us?"
Orochimaru's reverie broke; he met Kyuushin's eyes without evasion. "Engagement protocol is straightforward: hammer their frontline forces as hard as possible until we've tipped the scales sufficiently. Then, we pivot to negotiations."
Kyuushin nodded, the strategy aligning with his expectations. Konoha had zero designs on total conquest, no matter Rain's provocations.
Wiping out the Land of Rain left Konoha with a poisoned chalice—the Land of Fire couldn't feasibly absorb the rugged terrain. Reparations? Rain's battered economy offered scraps, and no valuable mines or resources sweetened the deal.
For Konoha, outright destruction yielded nothing but headaches. It would rack up needless Konoha casualties against desperate Rain counterstrikes. A measured defensive push made far more sense—grind Hanzo down through attrition until victory soured in his mouth, then extend an olive branch.
This approach even left Rain with enough battered strength to act as Konoha's unwitting thorn against rival Great Nations down the line.
That was the Konoha lens, though. Flip to Hanzo's vantage?
He'd ignited this war for one prize: triumph. Konoha loomed as a nightmare matchup for Rain's underdogs.
Yet, reframe it—if Rain could topple Konoha, Hanzo's vision leaped forward in leaps and bounds.
Elevating the Land of Rain to Great Nation stature meant clashing with all five eventually. Why not topple the mightiest first, paving a smoother road ahead?
His botched logistics raid screamed intent: bleed Konoha's edge, not just stall. Hanzo craved a win, not mere survival.
With the ambush foiled, if victory still burned in his sights... what ploy would he unleash next?
Kyuushin paused, gears turning, then lit up with insight. "Wait—Orochimaru-sensei, you're onto something. They did feign defeat, but not for a classic ambush. All they need is consistent losses to justify pulling back... without raising alarms."
Orochimaru leaned in, intrigue sharpening his features. "And what do they stand to gain from these 'retreats'?"
"Breathing room," Kyuushin elaborated, warming to the rhythm of the discussion. "If we hold back, they slink away and regroup for endless hit-and-run jabs. But if we chase them deep into Rain territory, we're the ones off-balance—strangers in a hostile land, geographical edge surrendered."
Orochimaru's eyes gleamed with dawning clarity, urging him on without a word.
Kyuushin pressed the point: "Pushing the front into Rain means our supply chains stretch thin right behind. Their home turf turns raids into a breeze for them—guerrilla strikes at will.
Even sans ambushes, the endless downpour becomes their ally. We'll grapple with the sodden terrain, our jutsu fizzling in the wet. That's when they hit the flanks, sever our lifeline to the Land of Fire, and box us in.
Sure, our shinobi pack superior punch, but bogged in enemy weather, cut off abroad... a straight fight or desperate escape? Odds blur fast."
Kyuushin spoke from solid ground. Konoha's roster spanned all five elements, but Fire wielders dominated—a glaring mismatch for Rain's drenched domain, where flames sputtered and weakened.
Rain shinobi, terrain natives, would thrive—perhaps even amplify their edge amid the gloom.
Layer in the numbers game, with Konoha stretched thin, and Hanzo's gambit could flip the script. Konoha might genuinely falter in this war.
The Land of Wind's border unrest added another wrinkle; a rout here would force frantic reinforcements from elsewhere, exposing flanks.
Kyuushin had always puzzled over the canon—how a juggernaut like Konoha tangled so fiercely with a minnow nation. Boots on the ground sharpened the picture.
Hanzo's transparent scheme cut deep. Earning the moniker "Ninja World's Hero" demanded such cunning.