CHAPTER 161: CHAPTER 161: BULLYING

Chapter 161: Bullying

The sharp stench of blood filled the air.

Just an hour ago, Konoha had been peaceful, the village brimming with everyday harmony. Now, that peace had been consumed by the smoke of war. Crimson stained the roads like a painted carpet, stretching from the village gates to every street in the outer district.

Bodies littered the ground—shinobi from both Konoha and Kirigakure.

In less than an hour after the sudden outbreak of battle, the short-handed forces of Konoha had been forced to retreat completely into the inner district. The perimeter had fallen.

Now, it belonged to the Mist.

They swarmed the homes like scavengers—laughing wildly, looting valuables, smashing doors, torching rooftops with reckless jutsu. Their orders were clear: destroy Konoha.

Buildings. Civilians. Everything was fair game.

The streets were filled with debris, ash, and corpses.

In a conflict between ninja villages, there was no drawn-out chessboard strategy. No time for drawn maps or decisive generals. Only survival, and overwhelming team power.

Though Konoha tried to preserve its strength—delaying full engagement, retreating to wait for reinforcements—the price was high. Sacrifices had to be made to evacuate residents from the outer districts.

The war had erupted so suddenly that even the aging Hokage advisors had been forced into battle.

Only after Konoha’s forces fell back did the bloodshed begin to slow. The Mist ninja had not followed deeper into the village. It was as if their goal wasn’t occupation—but harassment.

And yet, if they dared to penetrate the very heart of the Land of Fire alone... did they plan to retreat at all?

It was a question Konoha’s leaders couldn’t answer.

"Who is that?"

"Looks like Hyuga. Young. Never seen him before..."

"Is he a deserter? Or maybe a communications ninja?"

"Careful. Konoha’s not so easy to take. Their main force hasn’t arrived yet. Stay sharp—this could be a setup."

High above the smoldering outskirts of the village, six identical figures hovered silently in midair—each one Ryosuke, each one still as stone.

Below, both Konoha and Mist shinobi turned to look skyward.

The chaos stilled for a moment. Not a single Kirigakure shinobi launched an attack. Their commanding jonin stood frozen, wary of Ryosuke’s sudden appearance.

And Ryosuke saw everything.

Even before this battle, while tracking White Zetsu, he had been watching. Not just their movements—but their intentions.

The Genin and Chunin of Kirigakure had fought like they believed in the cause, unaware they were being used as fodder. They looted and destroyed without question, drunk on power and purpose.

But the Jonin?

They hesitated.

From the moment they arrived, they had remained alert. Not cautious of Konoha—but of something else.

They didn’t believe in this mission. They followed it only because they were ordered to.

And now, with Ryosuke floating above them, the entire outer district had gone silent.

On the other side of the barricades, Konoha shinobi stood uncertain. Many recognized the glowing white eyes, the effortless poise in the air.

Hyuga Ryosuke.

"But still..." Ryosuke muttered, eyes scanning the crowd. "Even if I understand your reasons—even if I know you’re victims in someone else’s game—I can’t let you go."

His voice was low, nearly drowned by the breeze.

"I don’t care for Konoha’s politics. But I’ve lived here for ten years. This place... it’s my home."

He didn’t fight because he wanted to bully the weak.

He fought because the blood, the screaming, the homes torn apart—it had lit a fire in his chest.

From the sky, his five shadow clones moved in unison, their hands flashing through seals.

"Fire Release."

"Water Release."

"Earth Release."

"Lightning Release."

"Wind Release."

Five elemental dragons burst from the sky, howling over Konoha like the roar of a divine storm. Massive, living streams of chakra shaped into mythic beasts.

Each element surged from its respective clone’s mouth, molded with such precision that they moved as if they had wills of their own.

Ryosuke’s chakra now dwarfed that of most shinobi. Not even the Uzumaki or Senju elites could rival it. Perhaps only a Jinchūriki could hope to stand on the same level.

"Is he insane?"

"Shoot him down!"

"That chakra... is he the Nine-Tails’ Jinchūriki?!"

"Water Style—Water Dragon Bullet!"

From below, Kirigakure shinobi panicked. Some shouted, some fought back, unleashing counterattacks that collided with the descending dragons.

But what struck them wasn’t just the power.

It was the control.

Their combined water jutsu—a massive, spiraling dragon conjured through joint efforts—lunged at Ryosuke’s fire dragon, expecting to extinguish it with ease.

Instead, the fire dragon pierced straight through, vaporizing the water dragon and exploding it into steam.

"What—?! His fire technique... it burned through water?"

"His Lightning Style pierced Wind Style?! That’s supposed to be a disadvantage!"

"Something’s wrong... We need to retreat! Now!"

Across the battlefield, Kirigakure commanders came to the same conclusion.

They were outmatched.

The colossal dragons didn’t just overpower their jutsu—they ignored elemental laws altogether. Ryosuke’s mastery transcended theory. His power was rewriting the rules.

Lightning shredded their wind. Earth buried their flame. Water clashed with lightning and was drowned instead.

And then—he landed.

Like a tiger leaping into a den of hares, Ryosuke dropped into the crowd, fists glowing with chakra.

Every blow crushed bones, broke necks, tore flesh.

He moved like a reaper.

Panic spread. The Kirigakure commanders began to order a retreat within a minute of battle.

And then—

"Charge!!"

A sudden roar rang from behind Konoha’s barricades. A figure burst through the defensive line, eyes blazing with fury, red chakra flaring violently around him.

Naruto.

From the moment Ryosuke appeared, he had been waiting—eager, impatient.

Now, he joined the fight without hesitation, his aura wild and primal, the Nine-Tails’ chakra bubbling beneath his skin.

Moments later, another figure leapt after him—his Sharingan blazing, sword drawn.

Sasuke.

Once one charged, others followed. Then two. Then three.

One after another, Konoha shinobi surged past the defensive line without waiting for orders.

Their bottled-up frustration—born from retreat, shame, and watching their home burn—finally exploded. With Ryosuke leading the charge like a storm incarnate, they could no longer suppress the fire in their hearts.

"Retreat! Retreat now!"

Even before Konoha’s full counterattack was officially launched, the commanding Mist ninjas issued the order to fall back without hesitation.

The experienced jonin and chunin, who had been prepared for a tactical withdrawal, immediately pulled out of the village. But the cannon fodder—the Genin who didn’t grasp the situation—were left behind, tasked with stalling the Konoha forces.

Upon receiving the report, Jiraiya and the other village leaders rushed to the front from the temporary command post. Their eyes flicked to Ryosuke still floating in the air, and without pause, they issued the order:

"Encircle and annihilate."

These Mist shinobi had dared to strike Konoha’s heart, leaving behind heavy losses and bloodstained streets. There could be no mercy. If they were allowed to escape, it would become a laughingstock across the entire shinobi world. Worse yet—it would shake Konoha’s position at the head of the alliance.

Konoha’s strength, its authority, and its very prestige rested on reputation. If that was lost, so was the village’s influence.

Meanwhile, Ryosuke stood silently in the sky, arms crossed, expression indifferent as the gazes of Konoha’s top brass locked onto him.

He wasn’t surprised. He had already accepted this day would come—the day he would no longer be able to hide.

He had stayed in the shadows to accumulate strength. But now, that strength had reached a point where secrecy was no longer necessary.

Below, his shadow clones tore through the battlefield with deadly precision. And as Ryosuke watched them move, something cold settled in his chest.

Loneliness.

"Maybe... this is how Madara felt," Ryosuke muttered.

It was a strange thought, but one he couldn’t shake.

Though the Fourth Great Ninja War hadn’t happened yet in this world, Ryosuke had seen the future unfold. He remembered Madara’s terrifying calm when facing down the entire Allied Shinobi Forces.

It hadn’t felt like a war. It was a performance. A lesson in death.

He had stood above them, not with arrogance, but with detachment—watching them struggle and die just to scratch the surface of his power.

And now, Ryosuke understood that feeling.

These Kirigakure ninja were no threat to him. This wasn’t a challenge. It was a cleanup.

Ryosuke wasn’t angry. He simply wanted this farce to end so he could return and digest the information he’d stolen from Bruno.

That battle had taught him more than any of this could. Bruno’s unique energy system and unfamiliar fighting style had sparked something new in Ryosuke. By comparison, continuing to clash with this ninja army was pointless.

Looking down, he watched the Mist ninja withdraw in tight, coordinated waves, fleeing into the forest beyond Konoha.

Oddly, their retreat was neat. Too neat.

As if... they had planned for this in advance.

Retreating from a core region like Konoha should’ve been chaotic. Yet here they were, moving in a uniform direction, evacuating as if following a pre-determined escape route.

But something soon went wrong.

As they pushed past a pile of broken trees, the terrain ahead made them stop.

It was unrecognizable.

The forest that had been here an hour ago was gone.

The ground had been obliterated, reduced to a wasteland of cracked soil and craters—pits of all sizes littering the land as far as the eye could see. The entire area looked like a battlefield left behind by gods.

"Where’s the forest?"

"It wasn’t like this when we came through, was it?"

"Wait—what about the guy with space-time ninjutsu? Isn’t he supposed to bring us back?"

Panic began to seep into the ranks. The commanders, once calm, now tensed.

They guided their troops forward cautiously, navigating the unstable terrain with wary eyes.

With each step, the ground made faint cracking sounds—not from the weight of their boots, but from how fragile the very earth had become. It wasn’t just the surface—the destruction had reached deep beneath the soil.

"Captain, what now?"

"Don’t tell me that guy ditched us. I knew something was off about this mission..."

"The Hyuga... the one flying in the sky earlier. Didn’t he go in this direction first? And now he’s back in Konoha—unharmed."

"Maybe... maybe that monster killed him? Or maybe he’s just hiding somewhere nearby. Either way, he’s strong. We should keep searching..."

The closer they moved to the epicenter of the devastation, the heavier their steps became. Something was wrong.

And there was no sign—no trace—of the man who had been assigned to guide their return.

He was gone.

Had they been abandoned?

Several field commanders kept their expressions calm, trying to avoid stirring panic in the troops. But inside, they were growing more and more certain.

Whether that man had escaped, died, or simply decided to abandon them, one thing was clear: they were on their own.

Still, the cannon fodder in the rear had done their job well. Konoha’s counterattack hadn’t caught up—yet.

Then, the commander-in-chief narrowed his eyes, his voice barely a whisper.

"Wait... that Hyuga. He knew we had reinforcements. He knew our direction. And... he can fly."

At first, the words didn’t register.

But as he said it aloud, a chill raced down his spine.

The adjutants beside him froze.

The noise of footsteps and whispers vanished.

The world around them had gone... silent.

Too silent.

Even the troops, who had been noisy and uncoordinated just moments ago, now stood still like statues.

The commander turned his head slowly.

And saw expressionless faces.

Everywhere.

The subordinates around him—deputy commanders, rear guards, front-line soldiers—all turned to face him, pale and vacant-eyed, their gazes hollow and unblinking.

There was no one left to command.

They were already gone.

---

"A shame. He’s going to die," Ryosuke muttered as he hovered above the wiped-out remnants of the Mist force.

The Konoha shinobi had caught up and were sealing off the surviving enemy’s chakra for interrogation and post-war trials.

The Mist commander, once a seasoned jonin known for his exceptional balance of field tactics and combat ability, had met his end without leaving so much as a meaningful memory behind.

He had no bloodline limit. His understanding of Yin Release was shallow. It hadn’t taken much for Ryosuke to slip into his mind and hijack his consciousness.

When Ryosuke had tried to read Bruno’s mind earlier, he’d only gotten fragmented images. Bruno had died too quickly. So, he’d hoped this commander might yield more.

Unfortunately, the result was the same.

Just as Ryosuke had suspected, Kirigakure was still dancing on the strings of Uchiha Obito.

The Mist troops had been sent not to conquer—but to test him.

The orders had come from Black Zetsu and Obito.

The key to their plan had been Bruno—the otherworlder. He had enabled the Mist army to infiltrate the heart of the Land of Fire undetected. He was also supposed to be their escape route.

But the plan had failed before it even began.

They hadn’t anticipated Ryosuke’s ability to sense them across such distance.

They hadn’t expected him to abandon the front and go straight for Bruno.

They hadn’t expected him.

---

"Ryosuke?"

A voice broke through his thoughts.

Turning around, he saw familiar faces—Konoha shinobi staring at him with awe and admiration. Some with pride. Some with disbelief.

And farther back... Jiraiya and the village elders stood silently.

Their eyes were unreadable.

But none of them spoke.

They were still trying to understand what exactly they had just witnessed.

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