Chapter 107: Team "Four"
The scroll contained only a few brief sentences. The Hokage's order was almost identical to what had been said before—withdraw at the right moment, and if necessary, sacrifice a few troublemakers still loyal to the Third Hokage.
Expressionless, Uchiha Yashiro placed the scroll into the brazier, watching the flames consume it until only ashes remained. A cold gleam flickered in his eyes.
He was already considering which "troublemakers" to group together into a squad. In two days, just as Kumogakure's forces were expected to arrive, he would send them out on a routine patrol.
That way, the squad would "happen" to encounter the invaders. And given Kumogakure's arrogance, they would surely wipe out the patrol to prevent Konoha from being alerted. After all, their true aim was to erase the border outpost and slip into the Land of Fire unnoticed—only then would they negotiate, demanding reparations and land in the usual fashion.
By the next morning, Yashiro had finalized the members of this sacrificial squad. He disbanded the existing reconnaissance teams, reorganized the personnel, and quietly reassigned those he had marked the night before into one unit.
From that day on, he sent them out for patrols.
This arrangement ensured that when they eventually collided with Kumogakure's army, no suspicion could fall on him. He had not formed the squad on that very day to send them to their deaths—it had been planned, structured, and routine. If misfortune struck… well, it was just bad luck.
Yashiro was careful, methodical. His reshuffling left no gap for gossip or rumor.
At the border outpost, most of the shinobi were Sarutobi Hiruzen's loyalists, men the former Hokage had trusted and dispatched here. Alongside them were a handful of Hyūga branch family members, as well as Yashiro's own trusted Uchiha clansmen.
None suspected anything unusual in today's regrouping.
They already knew that from the moment Uchiha Fugaku had risen to power and exiled them here, their political futures were over. As long as Fugaku sat in the Hokage's chair, they would never rise again. They were remnants of Hiruzen's faction, and Yashiro's presence was clearly meant to monitor them.
At first, fear had gnawed at them—they remembered how swiftly the Sarutobi and Shimura clans had been destroyed under Fugaku's rule. But as time passed without incident, their anxiety dulled. Some grew complacent. Others clung to fragile hope, placing their faith in Hiruzen's son, Sarutobi Asuma.
They had no way of knowing, so far from the village, that Asuma had already perished—sacrificing himself as bait.
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Two days slipped by in a blur.
That night, the outpost fell silent as lamps were extinguished and shinobi retired to their tents. Only the members of Fourth Squad remained awake, fully armed as they set out on their last patrol of the day.
The five jonin of the squad were all Sarutobi loyalists, men who had once pinned their hopes on Asuma. Still clinging to stubborn faith, they laughed and chatted as they left the valley, treating the patrol as nothing more than another dull routine.
They had no idea that fate was about to lead them straight into Kumogakure's vanguard.
Normally, every mountain patrol squad included at least one Hyūga. But two days earlier, all of the branch family members had mysteriously fallen ill from food poisoning. They still lay bedridden, and with no medical-nin assigned to the outpost, replacements were unavailable.
The patrol took it in stride. To them, it hardly mattered. Surely nothing serious would happen—and if something did, five jonin together could handle it.
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Not long after Fourth Squad departed, the glow of lamplight appeared inside Uchiha Yashiro's tent. Six shadows flickered against the walls.
They were all dressed alike in black, high-collared bodysuits marked with the red-and-white Uchiha fan, jonin flak jackets worn above them.
After a pause, three figures slipped inside. They were Hyūga from the outpost—the very ones supposedly struck down by food poisoning. Their movements were sharp and agile, betraying no trace of sickness.
One of them, Hyūga Daichi, was shoved forward by the others. A flash of resentment flickered across his face, but under Yashiro's cold gaze he quickly forced a respectful smile.
"Lord Yashiro, we've come to report."
Yashiro's voice was calm, measured. "Where are the Kumogakure now?"
Daichi felt the weight of six pairs of Uchiha eyes upon him. His heart pounded, but he steadied himself. "The Kumogakure forces are five miles out. We didn't dare get closer, in case their sensory-nin detected us."
Yashiro nodded. Five miles—that meant Fourth Squad would encounter them within minutes.
"Good. Return to standby. Be ready to evacuate on my signal."
"Yes, sir!"
The Hyūga bowed low, then withdrew in haste. Outside, Daichi exhaled, sweat beading his brow. He exchanged uneasy glances with his clansmen.
One of them whispered, "Daichi, why hide this from the others? The enemy is so close—"
"Silence!" Daichi hissed, glaring. His eyes darted back toward the tent. "We follow the clan head's orders and Yashiro-sama's commands. That is all. Do not pry further."
The rebuke cowed them. None dared argue.
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Meanwhile, deep in the forest five miles from the outpost, Kumogakure's army pressed forward.
Countless shinobi filled the woods, faces grim beneath the moonlight. At their head strode a towering, broad-shouldered man with dark skin, a white cloak draped over his muscled frame, and a heavy belt at his waist.
"Are we there yet?" he rumbled.
A subordinate quickly replied, "Raikage-sama, we are five miles from the Konoha outpost."
The Fourth Raikage, A, nodded, his voice booming like thunder.
"Good. Quick march! We'll wipe out the outpost tonight—and then sleep in real beds at the town inn."
"Yes, Raikage-sama!"
Cheers rose from the Kumogakure shinobi. After days of camping in the wilderness, the thought of a hot meal and a proper roof filled them with eagerness.
And in the shadows not far from their path, five figures watched silently, eyes gleaming.
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