Born To Rise In Konoha
Chapter 115

Chapter 115: Chapter 115

A column of ninja moved steadily through the forest. Each wore the standard green flak vest of the Leaf Village, with the symbol of Konoha proudly displayed on their forehead protectors.

"Captain, how much longer is this going to take? We’ve been walking forever!"

Uchiha Koshiro grumbled, trailing behind Saitama with a frown.

"We’re already inside the borders of the Land of Bears. Stay sharp," Saitama replied calmly, stepping over a fallen branch as he pressed forward.

Just a few hours earlier, Saitama and his unit had secured the border outpost as the vanguard team, paving the way for Konoha’s deeper infiltration into enemy territory.

"The enemy’s response has been awfully slow. Still no reinforcements?" Koshiro clicked his tongue dismissively. "Some shinobi force they are."

Saitama didn’t respond. Koshiro’s arrogance wasn’t new—he’d grown overconfident with recent victories. But this mission wasn’t just another skirmish. Their orders were clear: confront Kirigakure directly, provoke an all-out response, and force the Mist into open warfare.

The operation in the Land of Bears was the opening move. Only through decisive force would they goad the Mist into committing.

Suddenly—

"Fsssh!"

A sharp whistle pierced the air—an aerial signal flare from one of the forward scouts.

Saitama raised his hand, and the unit came to a halt in a practiced motion. Moments later, a ninja from the Aburame clan landed on a nearby branch.

"Enemy forces detected," he reported calmly. "Estimated contact in five minutes. Their numbers are substantial."

Word quickly spread down the line. Saitama’s group belonged to the Second Division. He personally led the First Wing—eighty shinobi under his command.

"Understood. Prepare for engagement!" Saitama ordered, signaling his squad with a raised arm.

The shinobi around him nodded, drawing weapons, forming hand signs, or silently activating their clans’ jutsu. This was no scouting mission. Their goal was to strike and retreat—but to make the enemy bleed first.

"Cling!"

Saitama drew his blade. Silence fell over the Konoha forces as they waited for their foes to arrive.

Rustle... rustle... whoosh.

The enemy emerged, shadows through the trees—dozens of Kirigakure ninja in formation, mist chakra swirling faintly in the air.

Among them stood several figures wearing specialized swords and ominous expressions.

"Heh... Konoha shinobi, eh?"

A tall man with spiked white hair and shark-like teeth grinned, resting a massive double-handled cleaver on his shoulder.

Saitama narrowed his eyes. Sharp teeth, white hair... the Hozuki clan? No—he’s from the Demon Brothers’ line, or maybe even a Mist Swordsman.

Next to him stood another Mist shinobi with a thin, wiry frame. His left eye was covered with a cloth, and he carried a grotesquely long and slender blade—threaded like a sewing needle.

"Entertain our guests from the Leaf," the eyepatched man sneered.

Beside him, a masked shinobi adjusted the long weapon on his back—his stance unnervingly calm.

"Those are Wuli Jinpachi and Kushimaru Kuriare..." one of Saitama’s squad members muttered, voice low. "Two members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist. Ruthless, efficient killers. They’re known for butchering enemies down to pieces—no corpses left intact."

Saitama said nothing but made note of it. Their chakra was strong—on par with elite jōnin.

Behind the front line, Kirigakure shinobi jeered and laughed.

Their bloodlust was palpable.

"Kill them all!" Jinpachi roared, raising his explosive blade—Shibuki, the Blastsword.

"Charge!" came the cry from Konoha’s side.

Among them, an older Konoha jōnin—scarred and wild-eyed—bellowed back, "We’re not here for tea! Let’s see what your blood tastes like, Mist scum!"

The two forces surged forward.

"This is it," Saitama murmured, his Sharingan activating with a flicker. The tomoe spun—three in total. His chakra surged, and he took a step forward.

"Let’s take one each," Uchiha Koshiro said, falling into step beside him. "I’ll take Kushimaru."

Saitama nodded. "I’ve got Jinpachi."

In an instant, both broke from formation and dashed toward their targets. Wind roared past them as they blurred forward.

"Tch! Reckless kid!" Jinpachi snarled as Saitama launched at him.

Their blades met in a clash of sparks—Jinpachi’s explosive sword against Saitama’s lightning-enhanced katana.

"Boom—!"

Jinpachi triggered an explosive tag mid-swing. The sword’s blast scattered debris through the air.

But Saitama’s Sharingan had already seen it. He twisted mid-air, chakra pulsing through his legs, and kicked off a tree trunk to redirect himself.

"You’re fast, brat... but let’s see you dodge this!"

The Mist swordsman pulled a lever on Shibuki, sending dozens of detonation tags flying in all directions like confetti.

Saitama’s eyes narrowed.

He’s turned his blade into a mobile minefield...

With fluid precision, Saitama weaved through the explosions, blade humming with chakra.

Jinpachi grinned savagely. "Die in the fire!"

But Saitama was already gone—flickering behind him in a burst of Lightning Release Body Flicker.

"Chidori Slash!"

Lightning crackled as Saitama’s blade sliced through Jinpachi’s flank. Blood sprayed into the air.

Jinpachi roared in pain, staggering back.

Around them, the battlefield was chaos—clashes of steel, jutsu detonations, and shouted commands echoing through the forest.

Saitama exhaled. This battle has just begun.

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