There were more and more of those White Zetsu.
They burrowed out of the ground, sticky and slimy; squeezed through cracks in the walls like sludge; and crawled out of the shadows without a sound.
All of them had pale, bare bodies and just one eye on their faces, staring so intently that they gave people goosebumps.
"What the hell are these things?"
Temari took half a step back, her Wind Release already primed, her voice a little tight.
"White Zetsu."
Minato's voice was heavy, his gaze grave. "The Akatsuki's biological weapons. They're tough to deal with."
Sweat covered Baki's forehead as he tightened his grip on his blade. "How many?"
"I can't tell."
Minato scanned their surroundings and swallowed. "At least... three hundred."
Three hundred.
Everyone knew what that meant.
The Akatsuki's five main fighters had only just left, and now this many White Zetsu had appeared. There were fewer than fifty Sand shinobi still able to fight among the ruins, and more than half were wounded.
On Konoha's side, there were only Minato, Sai, and the half-dead Shuo on the stretcher.
Temari's palms were slick with sweat. Kankuro had his puppets ready, but his fingers trembled uncontrollably, making even their joints clatter.
Gaara's sand surrounded everyone tightly, and even his face had gone a little pale.
The White Zetsu did not move. They simply surrounded them in dense ranks, like hungry wolves waiting for orders. Their silence made them all the more frightening.
In the distant darkness, that strange voice rang out again, airy and light. "Konoha's Flash... still sleeping?"
The moment the words fell, every White Zetsu began laughing at once-a shrill, thin cackle, like rats squeaking in cracks in a wall, enough to make anyone's scalp prickle.
Sai glanced down at the stretcher. Shuo was still