Having quietly arrived not far behind the Konoha forces, Akira stood poised, hidden in the shadows of the battlefield near the base of Mt. Kikyo. As he scanned the ongoing conflict with sharp, calculating eyes, a shift in the wind caught his attention. Something stirred within the Sand Village formation. Then, like a silent ripple through a still pond, the signal was given.
At that precise moment, Fukai—Jinchūriki of the One-Tail—received the command. Resigned to the inevitability of what was to come, Fukai quietly activated the secret jutsu entrusted to him: the "False Sleep Soundly Technique."
The moment the technique took effect, Fukai's body slumped into an unnaturally deep sleep, his breathing steady and eyes tightly shut. But the tranquility was deceptive. Within him, a slumbering terror began to stir. The sand beneath Fukai, once still and dry, began to tremble. Then it shifted, churned, and lifted, seemingly under the influence of an unseen will. A spiraling maelstrom of sand gathered, swirling violently around Fukai's unconscious body.
At first, the combatants on the field noticed it as a mild disturbance—a desert gust perhaps. But in seconds, it had evolved into a cataclysmic vortex, the likes of which had not been seen since the last time a Tailed Beast had gone on a rampage.
Panic rippled through the ranks.
The Konoha shinobi, unaware of what was truly happening, assumed the Sand shinobi were preparing a massive-scale offensive jutsu. The fear was immediate and tangible. They rushed to identify and eliminate the caster. As their eyes fell on Fukai at the epicenter of the storm, several units launched coordinated strikes, trying to interrupt the jutsu before it could be completed.
But their efforts were futile.
The wall of sand surrounding Fukai had grown into a churning tempest, repelling all attempts to breach it. Explosions and fireballs crashed against the barrier, only to be swallowed by the whirling mass of earth. The storm strengthened with each passing second, and a pressure unlike anything the Konoha shinobi had ever felt began to bear down on the battlefield.
Meanwhile, the Sand Village shinobi had stopped in their tracks.
Many of them, though not told explicitly of the plan, recognized the terrifying signs. They had seen this before—years ago, during containment failures and experiments that should never have been approved. A chill swept through their ranks as they stared at the growing storm.
It was happening.
The beast was waking.
Those who had lived through past incidents with Shukaku—the One-Tail—remembered the horror. Its laughter. Its mindless destruction. The taste of sand and blood in the air. The dread that made even the most seasoned shinobi falter.
But this time, the terror would not fall on them.
For once, they were not the ones trapped in the monster's path.
On a ridge overlooking the battlefield, the Third Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi narrowed his eyes. A dreadful realization dawned upon him as he recognized the telltale signs of a Tailed Beast's emergence.
"No... they wouldn't..."
But they had.
With each breath of wind, the sandstorm intensified. Within it, a form was taking shape. Towering. Grotesque. Terrifying. The air grew heavier, and the battlefield fell into an unnatural hush, broken only by the sound of swirling sand and the distant screams of the dying.
Then, in a burst of energy and wild, cackling laughter, the storm exploded outward.
Standing in the center was a towering figure—the massive, tanuki-like form of Shukaku the One-Tail, its body adorned with dark, swirling script. Its monstrous eyes gleamed with madness. It was free.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! Finally! This great lord is free!" Shukaku roared into the sky, his voice reverberating across the battlefield like a drumbeat of doom.
His twisted joy chilled the hearts of all who heard it.
The Konoha shinobi were stunned, frozen in place. Many had never seen a Tailed Beast before. Their size alone was fearsome, but it was the aura—raw, demonic, and ancient—that shook even hardened veterans.
But orders were orders.
Some Konoha shinobi regrouped quickly, directing fireballs, water jets, and lightning strikes toward the newly-emerged threat.
Shukaku hadn't even taken a step before a barrage of ninjutsu slammed into him from every angle. Dust and light filled the sky in a thunderous cacophony of explosions. But when the smoke cleared, Shukaku stood unscathed.
Anger twisted his face. That joy from moments ago morphed into an ugly, vengeful rage.
"YOU DARE STRIKE ME?! YOU INSIGNIFICANT WORMS!"
With a deep inhale, Shukaku's belly expanded grotesquely. The air around him compressed, pulling in wind and chakra. Then—
"Wind Style: Drilling Air Bullet!"
A monstrous ball of compressed air and chakra burst from his mouth, tearing through the battlefield like a living cannonball. It struck the center of a Konoha formation.
The result was annihilation.
An explosion of sound and force sent bodies flying. The air blast uprooted trees and shattered rocks. Where a squad of Konoha shinobi once stood, now there was only broken earth, debris, and silence. Blood soaked the sand, and smoke rose from newly formed craters.
Akira, watching from the edge of the chaos, gritted his teeth. His eyes sharpened, glowing faintly as he activated his chakra senses.
The battlefield had shifted. Mass panic was setting in among the Konoha ranks.
He could feel the overwhelming chakra being emitted by Shukaku—a monstrous force of nature, wild and unrestrained. But Akira didn't flinch.
He stepped forward.
Meanwhile, back in the center, the Third Hokage's expression turned from dread to fury. He glared at the Kazekage, Rasa, who floated high above the battlefield on a platform of gold dust.
"You're mad," Hiruzen spat. "You've brought an uncontrollable Tailed Beast onto an open battlefield. You've doomed both your men and mine."
Rasa's gaze was cold, his arms crossed.
"You call me mad, but what other choice do we have? Our defeat was imminent. This is war, Sarutobi. Victory justifies the cost."
The Third Hokage clenched his fists.
Below them, Shukaku continued his rampage. He didn't care who was in his way—Sand or Leaf. Anyone who moved was a target.
The Kazekage's gamble had paid off in the short term. Konoha's forces had fractured, forced to split their efforts between defending against the Sand and surviving the wrath of a Tailed Beast.
But the chaos was mounting. The battlefield had become a blood-soaked arena of screaming, smoke, and destruction.
Some Sand shinobi, attempting to control or direct Shukaku, were swatted aside or crushed underfoot. Others fled, knowing full well the futility of reasoning with a beast driven by rage and freedom.
The Konoha ninjas tried to rally, but Shukaku's power was suffocating. The standard tactics didn't apply. Their attacks were absorbed or brushed off.
In the midst of the collapse, Might Guy appeared.
The green beast of Konoha charged across the battlefield like a bolt of green lightning, flipping over debris, dodging falling sand, and delivering powerful strikes to redirect and protect the retreating ninja.
"Everyone, fall back! Regroup around the perimeter! Do not engage the Tailed Beast alone!" Guy shouted with booming authority.
His fists cracked with chakra as he delivered a powerful punch to a collapsing rock, shielding a squad of Genin from being crushed.
But even Guy knew that brute force alone would not stop Shukaku.
Back near the original frontline, Akira's eyes narrowed. He could no longer wait. Shukaku's chakra was influencing the environment, turning even the air into a hostile force.
He reached for his pouch and unsealed his special scroll.
"Time to end this madness," he whispered.
Channeling his chakra, Akira activated a complex barrier technique. The scroll burst open, revealing an ancient sealing formula—an inheritance from his master, meant only to be used in moments of absolute crisis.
With each hand sign, the wind howled louder around him. His chakra flared like a beacon.
As he leapt forward, his figure blurred into a streak of light, heading straight for the heart of the storm.
The outcome of the battle hung on a knife's edge. And in that moment, all eyes turned to the lone shinobi racing toward a rampaging Tailed Beast—the one person who still dared to challenge a god.
Akira was about to face Shukaku.
The real battle had just begun.