UCHIHA KING OF THE SOULS

At the junction of the Three Kingdoms, near the banks of the Hōyu River, in a secluded valley shrouded by dense foliage close to Konoha's frontline encampment, two figures clashed fiercely in a whirlwind of taijutsu. Nearby, a brown-haired kunoichi observed with a tense expression, fingers twitching slightly against her medic pouch.

Suddenly, in a flicker of yellow lightning, a figure appeared beside her. His spiky blond hair, sharp blue eyes, and the distinct Konoha flak jacket over a blue jumpsuit made him unmistakable. His face, marked by three whisker-like scars on each cheek, was strikingly handsome, exuding both warmth and quiet authority.

"Ah, Sensei, you're here!" Nohara Rin visibly relaxed, her previous tension melting into relief as she greeted him with a bright smile.

Namikaze Minato nodded slightly, his keen gaze locked onto the sparring figures. A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Gen's taijutsu has improved quickly. He's holding his own against Kakashi."

"Yeah," Rin agreed. "He's advancing at an incredible pace. Gen is a genius, just like Kakashi."

As she spoke, the two combatants—Gen Uchiha and Hatake Kakashi—halted their bout and made their way toward them.

Lately, Uchiha Gen had prioritized honing his taijutsu, deliberately engaging in close combat on the battlefield and sparring regularly with Kakashi. Unlike his clan's traditional reliance on ninjutsu and genjutsu, Gen recognized taijutsu as a personal weakness. However, with the advantage of his Sharingan, even this shortcoming was being systematically erased.

"Sensei."

"Minato-senpai."

Minato had insisted that Gen, though from the prestigious Uchiha clan, refer to him as "senpai" rather than "lord," fostering a more informal dynamic.

"We have a mission," Minato announced. "Gather your gear—we depart immediately."

"What's the objective, Sensei?" Kakashi asked, adjusting his headband over his left eye.

"The Hokage has issued an order. I'm to intercept a Kumogakure force invading the Land of Fire."

Kakashi's lone visible eye narrowed. "Kumo is making another move?"

Minato sighed. "Unfortunately, our forces on the Kumo front are stretched thin. Even with Lord Orochimaru's strategic brilliance, it's impossible to cover every angle."

Konoha's intelligence network was formidable, structured into two and a half primary divisions: the Intelligence Division under the Interrogation Unit, the underground Root faction, and the half-unit comprising select ANBU operatives. Despite the meticulous secrecy of Kumo's movements—especially under the leadership of the Third Raikage's son—Konoha's spies had secured critical intel.

"Sensei, are we part of your squad?" Gen inquired.

Minato shook his head. "No. Kumo has divided their forces into two—one overt, one covert. I'll lead a team against the shadow force led by the Third Raikage's son. You three will join the rapid-response division to engage the visible force."

"Understood, Sensei. Be careful."

Minato gave them a reassuring smile. "You too. Don't act recklessly—power means nothing if you throw your life away."

With those parting words, his form blurred and vanished, leaving only a faint ripple in the air—an unmistakable sign of the Flying Thunder God Technique. Unlike the later years when he possessed half of Kurama's chakra, his current use of the technique was measured, as long-range teleportation drained significant chakra reserves.

"Let's move out."

With a brief nod, Uchiha Gen and Rin fell into step with Kakashi.

The trio flickered forward, their figures vanishing into the thick forest canopy, becoming nothing more than fleeting black silhouettes.

Upon reaching camp, they swiftly gathered their supplies and merged with the rapid-response unit. Seventy ninja composed the force—chūnin adept in high-speed travel, specialized jōnin, and the renowned Ino-Shika-Chō trio leading the operation.

Through the vast greenery of the Land of Fire, their movements were barely perceptible, blurred shadows darting between trees. When chakra reserves waned, they downed military ration pills to sustain their pace.

After an intense day and night of travel, they arrived at their designated position in the northeast sector. Strategically setting up traps along the Kumogakure advance route, they took the opportunity to recuperate.

It was evident that Kumo had an informant among their ranks.

As they rested, the barrier division set up a protective field to scramble enemy perception while maintaining their own. In every shinobi village, sensor, sealing, and medical-nin were invaluable assets. Among them, sensor and sealing specialists were only slightly less indispensable than medics, often kept away from direct combat unless absolutely necessary.

Roughly an hour later, a warning came from their hidden sensor-nin, and Konoha's force tensed in preparation.

Snap!

A barely visible tripwire was broken, triggering a rapid chain reaction. In an instant, an array of shuriken and kunai, laced with explosive tags, erupted toward the advancing Kumogakure forces.

Clang! Clang!

Boom! Boom!

A chorus of metallic clashes, deafening explosions, and anguished screams filled the air. The front ranks of Kumo's assault force were decimated. Bodies tumbled from the trees, while the few survivors staggered, clutching wounds.

"Konoha was expecting us! Fall back!"

The leading Kumogakure jōnin wasted no time, signaling a retreat.

But Konoha shinobi were not about to let them escape unchallenged. They burst from concealment, forcing the enemy into battle.

In the midst of this chaos, a lone Kumogakure operative—distinguished by a subtle green ribbon concealed on his right arm—slipped away unnoticed. Konoha forces let him pass; his mission as an informant was complete. Returning to Kumo, however, would spell his demise—Kumo's ANBU did not tolerate failure.

"Kill them!"

Three elite Kumogakure swordsmen surged toward Team 7, their movements fast and calculated. Their flowing swordplay and precise lightning chakra-enhanced strikes exuded deadly efficiency.

Kakashi and Gen met them head-on.

Though Kumo shinobi specialized in kenjutsu and Lightning Release, they were still outmatched in taijutsu by the prodigies of Konoha. Even in a three-on-two scenario, they were gradually pushed onto the defensive.

A flicker of understanding passed between them, and one Kumo shinobi abruptly broke formation, dashing toward Rin. She stood poised, kunai in hand, ready.

Gen's fingers flicked. Three shuriken whizzed toward the attacker. The Kumo-nin barely flinched, deflecting them with ease, only to realize too late—they rebounded mid-air, curving back toward him.

Startled but composed, he twisted, dodging with minimal injury.

At that moment, Rin struck. Two kunai sliced through the air.

Eyes widening, the Kumo shinobi desperately contorted his body, narrowly avoiding a fatal hit—only to falter as a dark realization set in.

Poison.

The toxin coursed through his veins instantly, and within a single breath, his body seized, collapsing lifelessly to the forest floor.

As a medic-nin, Rin rarely resorted to poison, but after some persuasion from the ever-pragmatic Uchiha Gen, she had prepared for worst-case scenarios.

"Sharingan: Genjutsu!"

Gen's eyes flashed crimson, tomoe spinning. The two remaining Kumo shinobi locked gazes with him—only for their bodies to stiffen in sudden paralysis.

Unlike the proud traditionalists of his clan, Gen Uchiha had no qualms about deception. He deliberately concealed his Sharingan until the opportune moment, ensuring victory in an instant.

A blur of motion. A spray of blood.

Kakashi and Gen reappeared atop a tree trunk as two lifeless bodies crumpled below.

Kakashi exhaled, shaking his head. "You're ridiculously underhanded."

Gen smirked. "Strategy over honor, Kakashi."

With a wry chuckle, Kakashi muttered, "Even Uchiha pride takes a backseat to efficiency, huh? Terrifying."

"Now then," Gen declared, cracking his knuckles. "Shall I take the lead this time?"

Kakashi's visible eye twitched. "Fine. I'll back you up."

"Support role for me," Rin added cheerfully, raising a fist.

And with that, the battle pressed on.