The Injured Five Kage's Worries as They Rush to the Battlefield

Meanwhile, at the other end of the battlefield, in the sky dozens of miles from the God Tree, five figures rose up from the horizon.

They flew low, practically gliding over the treetops, because going any higher would let the God Tree lock onto them with its senses. They were not moving quickly, because two of them were already finding it exceptionally difficult just to maintain a flying posture. Their robes were stained with blood—some their own, some belonging to others—and under the night wind, the dried blood formed a brownish crust over their skin and clothing.

Ōnoki was at the front.

His body maintained an unnatural balance in midair—his arms stretched behind him, his legs slightly curled, his whole body like a paper crane caught by the wind. His face was covered in wrinkles and age spots, his beard whipping about in disarray, yet his eyes were clear and resolute, as if he had become fifty years younger. His hands trembled faintly at his sides, not out of fear, but because he was using his last remaining Chakra to keep the four people behind him aloft.

Behind him, Gaara stood atop a platform condensed from sand, just large enough for two people to stand on. His hands extended before him, all ten fingers spread as he controlled the sand supporting the other two at the platform's sides. His expression was as placid as ever, but his left arm trembled slightly—the subtle instability caused by Chakra depletion in the sand he had used to replace the bones in his already-broken left hand.

Tsunade stood on the sand platform to Gaara's left. Her upper body leaned forward slightly, as though she were using her entire weight to fight gravity. The purple markings of the Strength of a Hundred Seal on her