The rain fell without end, soaking Konoha's entire camp until it swelled and stank.
The mud clung like glue. Every step lifted with a heavy squelch. Tsunade's face was set like frost. Her crimson cloak was drenched and dragged at her shoulders, but it could not press down the smoldering anger in her eyes.
Nawaki slogged into a pit of sludge, coming up like he had been dredged from a swamp. His brand-new chūnin vest had turned into a brown rag. He flicked muck from his arms, muttering curses at the weather and the tedium of patrol.
Beside him, Mikoto was as silent as a shadow. Rain slid from the black hair plastered to her cheek. Her empty gaze pierced the downpour, fixed on nothing.
Ryo led the way.
From the direction of the command tent, a Root operative glided in like a clay idol come to life. He cut through the rain and stopped squarely before Ryo.
"Tsunade-sama," the monotone voice carried through the storm, "by order of Danzō-sama, proceed to Defense Zone Two. Immediately."
"Defense Zone Two?" Tsunade's voice rose, sharp as a blade scraping iron. That was where Hanzō's main force pressed hardest, a meat grinder. The toughest bone in the camp, and closest to death. Danzō could not wait to cast her into the hottest furnace. "Are Orochimaru and the others taking losses? You want me to hold the line?"
The Root ninja's face did not change. "Lord Danzō believes your battlefield value should be exerted in a core sector."
Core? To die would be closer to the mark. Tsunade's chest heaved with fury. Hypocritical on the surface, venomous beneath, she read him like glass.
"And my squad?" Her tone turned cold enough to freeze.
"Your team lacks sufficient strength to enter that danger zone," the Root agent droned. "They will remain in camp to rest and await orders. This is Danzō-sama's strategic allocation."
"Strategic allocation? My ass." Tsunade nearly exploded. She knew it. Danzō was not sending her to the spearpoint for the sake of the core sector. He was severing her from Ryo and the others.
The front was too hot. Tsunade had the might to carve her way out of the Ame-nin encirclement, but her squad? Ryo's power was uncanny, but could he stand against Hanzō's salamander and its poison? Nawaki and Mikoto? They would be tender meat tossed into the grinder. Bring them, and one misstep meant no remains to retrieve. It was the cruelest daylight trap, forcing her to go alone.
Without the she-beast guarding her cubs, Ryo, Nawaki, and Mikoto, three little genin, would be declawed pups in a camp where Danzō's word was law. Any jōnin, or even a chūnin, hiding behind a command title could, under camp regulations, wartime orders, or some airy support assignment, legitimately move, exploit, even expend them.
Rules are dead, people are alive, especially in wartime camps, where the lowest rank sits at the bottom of the food chain. Ninja obey orders by law. Refuse, and it is mutiny under wartime codes.
Would any jōnin risk offending a top medical ninja by harassing her disciples? Of course not.
But not offending only meant surface politeness, not protection.
They were still genin. Danzō could hold them in the palm of his hand.
What he wanted was exactly this outward calm.
Ryo was strong, strong enough to clash with a sector commander. But would he dare?
Would he dare cause a scene in camp?
One step over the line, and Danzō had hats ready for his head, undermining morale, disrupting order, mutiny in wartime. Black or white, Danzō would call it.
He hoped Ryo would make noise. The bigger the noise, the harder Danzō's fist could fall, righteous and by the book.
As for penning Ryo in camp to rot? No, too wasteful, too small-minded.
In the gloom of the command tent, Danzō's eyes gleamed with cold calculation.
Kill Ryo now? Too costly, pointless.
The Land of Rain's bog needed a sharp blade like Ryo.
That strange, god-knows-where-he-learned-it skillset, especially that terrifying swordwork tailor-made to shred puppets, was crucial to the balance of engagements. Killing him now would hurt Konoha and help the enemy, contrary to Danzō's sacred rule, all for Konoha, and for me to be Hokage.
Use him. Squeeze him dry.
Let that blade carve glory in the Land of Rain. Let him earn enough merit that Danzō, crowned by talent-spotting and grand strategy, could step over the corpses of Suna and Ame to don the halo of Hokage. Then would be the time for the autumn reckoning.
Before that, some knockdowns and attrition were essential. This proud blade had to learn whose hand moved the pieces.
"…Understood." Tsunade ground out the word, teeth clenched, eyes carving a mark toward the command tent.
Nawaki looked blank, still not grasping the implications. Mikoto stayed silent, the emptiness in her eyes darkening.
Ryo, beneath the hood's shadow, held a gaze like a deep, still pool, utterly calm. Danzō's order was a ripple skimming the surface.
"Here," Tsunade's voice rang iron-hard, each word a nail hammered into command, "protect yourselves. Keep your heads down. Don't give anyone an excuse. Wait for me to come back. Understood?"
She fixed Ryo with a long look, warning layered with something like trust, then said no more. Her crimson figure cut a decisive line through the rain, a blade drawn toward the slaughterhouse of Defense Zone Two. Mudburst flared where her steps fell.
Nawaki gaped, then blurted, late to the dread, "Ah." He glanced from Ryo to the silent Mikoto, confusion and panic fighting on his face.
Without his sister, what now?
The air in camp grew heavier.
Those eyes in the shadows grew bolder.
Ryo tugged at his rain-soaked hood and turned toward their cold, wet tent, as if nothing had happened.
Not long after, another Root messenger blocked the entrance. That same rigid mask of a face.
"Genin Kamiyama Ryo, Genin Senju Nawaki, Genin Uchiha Mikoto," came the flat voice. "Report to Logistics immediately. Assist Supply Squad Three. Execute wartime transport assignment, batch seven. Ensure safe delivery of supplies to the forward observation post at Eagle Howl Cliff. No delay permitted."
"Escort duty?" Nawaki's eyes lit up, like a hound finally catching a scent. "Finally, real work."
After days patrolling that swamp, his bones felt rusty. Escorting supplies? Fine, at least it was proper wartime duty. He cracked his knuckles. The fog of aimlessness blew away.
Mikoto's lashes lifted. She shot the Root ninja a quick glance and lowered her eyes again, fingers rubbing the edge of her tool pouch. Escort mission? Leaving this suffocating camp, these prying eyes? She drew a quiet breath. The pressure seemed to ease, barely.
Ryo leaned against the cold, damp tent pole, brim dipping lower. He could taste the faint malice in the air and its source.
Danzō's pie had failed. The payback was prompt.
Assist Supply Squad Three? They were the real muscle? No. He and Nawaki, Mikoto, the inserted executors Danzō had arranged.
Eagle Howl Cliff. Ryo brought up the crude maps he had studied. A projecting height between the camp and the core battle zone, not the foremost trench, but a perilous perch, routinely harassed by Ame-nin infiltrators. Observation post or not, the workload was heavy, supply burn was high.
Escort supplies? The task itself was fine.
But the executors, three genin without a direct jōnin leader, slotted into a seemingly full squad, two jōnin plus four chūnin plus twelve genin, counting them.
In that formation, what were they? Who gave them orders? What roles would they shoulder? If something went wrong, who took the blame?
Danzō meant them to run a gauntlet, bleed through fatigue and accidents on a dangerous route. The iron pot he handed them could not be dodged. It came with a wartime stamp.
"Got it." Ryo's voice cut through the rain, flat and unreadable. He straightened, rolled his neck. The vertebrae clicked softly. He stepped out first.
The rain thickened. The mud closed on their ankles again.
Nawaki followed in high spirits, murmuring, "Finally something real… Eagle Howl Cliff, right… I hear the view's amazing."
(To be continued.)
◇◇◇
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.
◇ You can read the ahead chapter on Pat if you're interested: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves (Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)