Chapter 6: Fighting Beside the Crown Prince
It took thirteen full days for Konoha's massive army to reach their assigned strategic position: Yuwaku Gorge.
Along the way, Minamoto Ren observed the stark differences between the Land of Fire and the Land of Rain.
After crossing the border, the humidity in the air thickened, the ground grew muddier with each step, and the rainfall intensified far beyond what they'd seen at the edge of the nations.
From this alone, Ren could tell:
In the shinobi world, regional powers had naturally formed in response to geography, climate, and culture.
It was a truth grounded in reality—perhaps something Hashirama Senju had recognized, which was why he never waged indiscriminate wars of conquest.
But Ren still believed Hashirama's decision to evenly distribute the Tailed Beasts was… naïve at best.
"Regroup."
Orochimaru's sudden command snapped him from his thoughts.
Ren noticed that Orochimaru had switched his usual cloak for a full suit of shinobi armor—standard gear for Konoha during the Second Great Ninja War. It was a far cry from the green vests of the later era, and a clear echo of the Warring States period—when even Uchiha Madara wore full battle armor.
"Ooh, do we have a mission?" Nawaki snapped to attention with eager eyes.
He'd been training hard every day and felt more powerful than ever.
"Mm. Tsunade asked me to let you see some blood," Orochimaru said calmly—too calmly.
A terrifying thing to say, delivered as if it were weather talk. But this was how soldiers were forged.
Many ninja talked big during peacetime, but once they saw real bloodshed, they collapsed. Such shinobi were dead weight on the battlefield.
Without another word, the four-man squad moved out.
Ren instantly heightened his awareness.
In the original timeline, Nawaki died on a mission—blown apart by a single explosive tag.
It was ironic, wasn't it? Of all the thousands of paper bombs used in Naruto, only one ever truly mattered—the one that killed Nawaki.
And as Nawaki's appointed "royal companion," Ren had no intention of letting that happen again.
---
Before long, Orochimaru's summoned snakes picked up the trail of an enemy group.
But they weren't shinobi—just civilians from the Land of Rain.
That in itself made Orochimaru uneasy.
Killing shinobi or killing civilians—it made no difference to him. Blood was blood.
But where were the Rain ninja?
Why weren't there any border patrols? No sentries? Not even basic scouts?
Was Hanzō of the Salamander truly unconcerned about Konoha striking deep into his territory?
Orochimaru didn't voice these thoughts. Instead—
"Found them. Move out."
He vanished with a flicker.
Two minutes later, their squad stood in front of a group of emaciated, lifeless villagers.
Even after spotting the shinobi, the civilians barely reacted.
"Are you here to collect taxes again?"
An old man stepped forward, calm and expressionless.
"The Rain ninja were here?" Orochimaru asked flatly. "When? Where did they go?"
The old man nodded, then shook his head.
"You're too late. The higher-ups evacuated three days ago, taking all the supplies with them. Because of Lord Hanzō's latest maneuvers, there's nothing left in the village—no food, no reserves."
"How much did they take?" Orochimaru asked, unusually talkative.
"Everything. Even what little we had hidden. The shinobi said, 'With Konoha coming, you'll die anyway—so better to contribute what you can to the cause.'"
Just a few short sentences—but in them, Ren felt deep sorrow and hopelessness.
The Land of Rain had become a battlefield again and again.
The Sand came and razed it.
The Stone came and razed it.
Now Konoha would do the same.
And even the Rain ninja themselves would plunder what little remained.
Hanzō, as powerful as he was, could barely hold things together.
What chance did civilians like these have?
In this world, life or death depended entirely on the whims of shinobi.
Orochimaru clearly understood this reality.
He might not have explained it in philosophical terms, but he had seen enough blood to know the truth.
Without warning, he unsheathed his ninja blade and handed it to Nawaki.
"Kill him."
Nawaki, a child of the Senju clan and naturally empathetic, had already wanted to interrupt the conversation several times—but Orochimaru's rapid questions left no room.
Now, hearing this order, he froze.
The teacher he'd just begun to warm up to suddenly felt like a stranger again.
"Why?" Nawaki's voice trembled.
Orochimaru blinked, puzzled by the question.
"This is war. Do you need a reason to kill?"
Before Nawaki could protest, Orochimaru pushed the blade into his hands.
"The neck is weakest. If you cut diagonally…"
"I won't!" Nawaki shouted, throwing the sword to the ground and running off.
Orochimaru turned to Minamoto Ren, silently telling him to bring the boy back.
But Ren didn't move. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh.
"Lord Orochimaru, maybe killing these civilians has strategic value… but you don't understand Nawaki—and you certainly don't understand people's hearts."
At last, Minamoto Ren added quietly,
"Lady Tsunade would never have agreed with what you just did… I'm going after Lord Nawaki."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and sprinted after the boy.
Damn it, he cursed inwardly. This better not be the part with the explosive tag. If that thing goes off now, how the hell am I supposed to explain that?!
Behind him, Hyūga Haining hesitated.
He glanced at the retreating figures of his companions, then at Orochimaru, and finally at the vacant-eyed villagers.
After a moment's pause, he gave Orochimaru a slight bow—and followed after Nawaki as well.
That left Orochimaru alone in the rain.
He bent down, plucked the ninja blade from the mud, and silently slid it back into its sheath. Without a word, he formed a hand seal and disappeared.
The old man remained expressionless.
After dealing with this group of shinobi, he knew another would arrive eventually.
Their lives hadn't belonged to themselves in a long time. Even if no ninja came to kill them, starvation would soon turn them into something less than human—something monstrous.
---
Meanwhile, Nawaki was running blindly through the forest, tears streaming down his face.
He didn't understand.
The teacher who had just felt warm and familiar… why had he suddenly turned into a killer?
They'd been told at the Academy that war was cruel, but this? This was beyond cruel.
Those villagers—those helpless, unarmed civilians—were just like the peddlers and farmers back home in Konoha.
Why had Orochimaru asked him to kill them?
Didn't Lord Third say Konoha stood for justice?
Was this what justice looked like?
Confused and overwhelmed, Nawaki completely dropped his guard.
He forgot his teacher's warnings: "Always stay alert. Traps are everywhere in enemy territory."
And not far ahead, on the third tree from where he was now, a near-invisible tripwire stretched across a branch, gleaming faintly in the rain.
Like the blade of the Grim Reaper, it lay in wait—just for him.
Ironically, it was just as Minamoto Ren had feared—his curse of foresight come true.
This was it. This exact place. This exact moment.
In the original story, Orochimaru had killed a man during a mission.
Unable to accept it, Nawaki fled—and just a short sprint away, he triggered a trap left behind by Rain shinobi.
One explosive tag, and he was gone.
Nawaki leapt onto the second-to-last tree.
He was now only ten steps away from that deadly line.
"Lord Nawaki! Where are you?"
Minamoto Ren's voice echoed softly through the woods.
Nawaki paused for the briefest moment. His foot touched down.
He was about to leap again—onto that fated tree.
A leap that would split his destiny in two.
A moment that, in another timeline, would set the stage for the tragic split of the Legendary Sannin.
"Lord Nawaki! Lord Orochimaru says he was wrong—he wants to apologize!"
Ren changed tactics, calling out in a more emotional tone.
That one sentence hit its mark.
Nawaki stopped. He turned.
And in that instant, his fate was rewritten.
-