The Graveyard of Gorinami
A few days after the unexplained events of Hoshigato, another incident happened in Gorinami. This cemented the views of the general populace that there was a malevolent entity, or a group of entities, that was taking its revenge on all shinobi.
There were three 'hotspots', so to speak, of death around the city. Each of these, either by coincidence or by design, formed almost exactly an equilateral triangle.
"So, the old friends come together again, huh?"
"I have a feeling that I'm not particularly going to enjoy this particular get-together."
In a field to the North, about five hundred Shinobi were found crushed to a pulp. Their remains were so badly squashed that the symbols of their villages were unidentifiable. The ground was depressed in the shape of a fist, to a depth of about ten feet. People thought this proof that a giant had been in the area, even though none were sighted.
"Dai Bubun Baika no Jutsu!"
In front of him were more than four hundred Ninja, a mixture of Kumo and Kiri forces. And Chouza, fifteenth head of the Akimichi Clan, would kill them before they touched him.
His fist, now twenty meters in diameter and about two tons heavy, descended of its own accord, pulverizing everything beneath, including all of the ninja. He tried to lift it up, when RRIIIIIIPP!
His arm had been torn off.
To the Southeast, three hundred Shinobi were found dead with inexplicable injuries. In the words of a medical expert, it was as if 'they had all simultaneously committed suicide'.
Inoichi looked at the Ninja in front of him. Suna, Iwa, Kumo, Kiri, Taki, Ishi, Oto. A true alliance of the Shinobi. He would have smiled if it weren't for the circumstances.
"Dekkai Shinranshin no Jutsu!" He breathed out, and they looked upon themselves with astonishment. Some strangled themselves, some stabbed their own stomachs or necks or eyes, some even performed very impressive take-the-enemy-with-you suicide Jutsu.
He himself fell to the ground, the strain, both mental and chakratic, of controlling hundreds of minds without an amplification machine finally getting to him.
"Live well, my little Princess."
To the Southwest, more than three hundred Shinobi lay dead. This place was the most 'normal' battlefield, if it could be called so. Each Shinobi had several, almost perfectly circular holes in their body, yet not even a single instrument was found which could explain such shapes.
"Well, it seems I have to do some work too…" Shikaku sighed. He didn't want to do this: too much work. But orders are orders.
"Chou Kage Nui no Jutsu." Thousands of shadowy tendrils emerged from the darkness, from beneath the trees, from the shadows of the Ninja. They had tips shaped like various weapons, ranging from kunai and shuriken to hammers and scalpels to, in one instance, a kusarigama.
Shunk. Clank. Shwoon. Krrr.
A minute passed, and almost all of them were dead. Clang. Tung. Hiss.
He tensed. Metal weapons hisses do not make.