The Terrifying White Fang
A blur of white streaked across the battlefield, a phantom amidst the carnage. Before anyone could react, a dozen flashes of light erupted within the heart of the Sand puppet army. In a heartbeat, their elite Jounin puppet masters lay dead, throats slashed with surgical precision.
The silence that followed was deafening. Sand ninja nearby stared in horror at the fallen bodies, finally registering the spectral figure before them. With Konoha's forehead protector and Silver hair, pulled back in a tight ponytail. A cold, calculating gaze that swept across the battlefield like a predator sizing up its prey. A white armband emblazoned with a crimson triangle adorned his left arm, and a deadly chakra dagger glinted in his right hand.
"The White Fang of Konoha!" A lone Sand ninja choked out the name, sending a ripple of terror through the ranks. It was a name etched in their memories, a legend whispered with fear.
Hatake Sakumo, the man who single-handedly neutralized an elite puppet brigade, stood amidst the enemy army, an unyielding island in a sea of fear. His cold eyes scanned the battlefield, a predator choosing its next target. The once-proud Sand ninja army, numbering thousands, found themselves frozen in place. No one dared meet the White Fang's gaze, let alone challenge him.
The arrival of one man had brought a mighty army to its knees.
A guttural curse escaped Chiyo's lips. Ebizo mirrored her fury, their expressions darkening at the sight of Hatake Sakumo. The tide had turned, and a sliver of doubt crept into their hearts regarding victory.
A collective cheer erupted from the Konoha ranks. The despondent ninja were revitalized, their savior, the White Fang, had arrived! The very air crackled with renewed hope.
"Don't be swayed!" A fiery-haired Sand ninja, barely more than a boy, emerged from the ranks. His voice rang out, a desperate plea to rally his comrades. "We outnumber him a thousand to one! This White Fang is no god!"
A delicate kunoichi stepped beside him, her voice laced with steely resolve. "Together, we crush him!"
His words ignited a spark in the Sand ninja. Even a legend like the White Fang couldn't withstand a human wave assault, could he? The Sand ninja army surged forward, a wave of murderous intent crashing towards the solitary figure.
Hatake Sakumo, unflinching, met their gaze. The pressure of a thousand hostile ninjas was palpable, a weight even a seasoned warrior like him could feel.
"Troublesome," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He wasn't naive enough to believe he could single-handedly win this war. That kind of power resided only in legends like the God of Shinobi and Uchiha Madara.
His goal had always been a swift takedown of the elite puppet masters, a crippling blow to demoralize the Sand forces and buy time for a strategic retreat. A complete victory was out of the question. Survival and a minimal loss of life were the best they could hope for. The Konoha leadership understood this grim reality as well. Even as Hatake Sakumo faced the Sand onslaught, a silent retreat was already underway, the Konoha forces melting away under the cloak of renewed chaos.
Unfortunately, their maneuvers hadn't gone unnoticed.
"Troublesome," Hatake Sakumo murmured, his voice a steady counterpoint to the rising intense of war cries. A thousand Sand ninja surged forward, a chaotic tapestry of jutsu and steel. Wind whistles shrieked as projectiles of earth and air hurtled towards him. Kunai and shuriken, some laced with explosive tags, rained down from the sky. Hidden amongst the attackers, keen-eyed observers waited for his next move, ready to exploit any opening.
For most Kage-level fighters, this would be a suicide mission. The sheer volume of attacks, a relentless barrage of ninjutsu and hidden weapons, was akin to a sustained S-class jutsu. Survive one wave, and another crashes down. Who, except those beyond the Kage level, could withstand such relentless punishment? The constant threat of unseen attackers whittling away at their focus, their resolve – that's what made facing a horde so terrifying.
But Hatake Sakumo wasn't most Kage-level fighters. A blinding white light erupted from him, engulfing his form. He became a whirlwind, a phantom weaving through the onslaught. The coordinated attack, designed to be inescapable, became a chaotic mess as he danced through the hail of weapons and jutsu. Sand ninja stumbled back, their eyes desperately searching for a target, but seeing only flashes of white.
Then came the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. One by one, Sand ninja fell, comrades or superiors alike. Genin or Jounin, it made no difference. The White Fang's blade moved with an inhuman speed and precision, a silent reaper claiming lives before their owners even realized the threat. Some fell before they could even react, their final sight a blinding flash of white.
Hatake Sakumo moved with the efficiency of a reaper, his white form a stark contrast against the carnage. He waded through the onslaught, his blade a blur of deadly precision. Sand ninja fell like wheat before a scythe, their desperate attacks failing to land a scratch.
A sharp hiss escaped Aizen's lips. Even he, the cunning observer, couldn't help but be awestruck by the White Fang's terrifying display of power. This was Konoha's ultimate weapon, a whirlwind of death defying impossible odds.
Namikaze Minato, standing beside Aizen, couldn't contain his admiration. His gaze was fixated on the white figure, a hero in the midst of chaos.