Cold rain drummed monotonously on the thick tarp of the command tent, producing a dull, rhythmic thudding.
Inside, the lighting was dim. The only source of illumination was the oil lamp hanging over the long wooden table, its flickering flame casting distorted shadows of the people seated around it onto the tent walls like silent statues.
A large map sprawled across the table, taking up most of the surface. On it, gray flags for Suna and black for Ame twisted around the green Konoha-controlled center like two writhing serpents, squeezing tight from two directions. The map's edges were stained with dried mud and dark blotches of blood.
Shimura Danzō sat at the head of the table, back straight as a withered, iron-hard log. His eyes, glinting coldly under the wavering flame, swept over each person present. Tsunade was biting her finger, brows furrowed tightly, face openly annoyed. Jiraiya slouched in his chair, fingers tapping absently on his knee, gaze unfocused. Orochimaru sat unusually quiet, expressionless, his golden eyes shifting under half-closed lids, occasionally scanning the map. Ryo remained in shadow, his wide hood hiding most of his face, revealing only a sharp jaw and tightly set lips. Nara Shikashin, the assigned strategist, sat slightly apart with fingers interlaced, eyes lowered in silent contemplation.
The long silence was finally broken by Danzō's hoarse, gravelly voice, like a dull blade sawing through burlap.
"You're all here. I don't need to explain the situation. Suna and Hanzō have formed a deadlock. If we delay any longer, the front will collapse."
His finger jabbed hard at the map's center, the spot marked Amegakure. The pressure nearly pierced the parchment.
"The key to breaking the deadlock," he said sharply, voice rising with steely certainty, "is Hanzō the Salamander."
The tent was silent enough to hear a pin drop, only the soft hiss of the lamp wick and the rain outside remained.
Danzō's gaze turned knife-like as it passed over Orochimaru, Jiraiya, Tsunade, and finally landed on Ryo.
"The objective is clear. Infiltrate Amegakure and assassinate Hanzō the Salamander. If that fails," he paused, then slammed his finger onto a marked summoning location, "eliminate his summon, the Salamander Ibuse, at all costs."
"There are three reasons." His tone was absolute.
"First, Hanzō is the backbone of Ame. If he dies, their chain of command collapses. Their alliance crumbles by default. Second, half of Hanzō's so-called demigod status comes from that beast. Its poison alone has slaughtered countless of our shinobi. Without it, Hanzō loses half his threat. Third," his eyes bore into the shadows beneath Ryo's hood, "Kamiyama Ryo. With your Flying Thunder God jutsu, even if the operation fails, all four of you can retreat safely. That is our greatest guarantee of success."
"You four are the strike team." Danzō swept his gaze across Tsunade, Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Ryo. "Tsunade, Jiraiya, Orochimaru, you three are all elite jōnin at the peak of your class, only one step from Kage-level. Ryo, you're already there. The four of you combined, with Flying Thunder God for extraction, give this mission a high chance of success."
He paused, voice carrying an unshakable confidence in his own authority.
"I will remain at command, anchoring the base. With me here, like a stabilizing spear, no threat can shake this camp."
Tsunade's fist clenched on the table, her knuckles turning white. She looked up suddenly, voice shaking with suppressed fury.
"Danzō! You call this a plan? This is a gamble. A gamble putting the entire frontline's fate on the table." Her voice trembled with emotion.
"When I proposed allying with Hanzō to deal with Suna, you elders, that old man, and the so-called advisory council all jumped up to oppose it. Something about Konoha's dignity and pride. Fine. Now what? Suna and Hanzō are in bed together, and we're backed into a corner. You, Danzō, as supreme commander, what have you done besides drag things out? And now that you can't stall anymore, you come up with this suicide mission that pulls all top combatants out of the base?"
She slapped her palm on the table. The flame of the oil lamp wavered violently.
"I'm against it. This is too reckless. Once the four of us leave, the entire base is a hollow shell. Suna isn't blind. Their frontline commander, Chiyo, that old hag, is no fool. The second she detects we're not here, she'll launch a full-scale assault. Who's stopping their elite forces then? You, Danzō? Even if the camp isn't overrun, the losses will be catastrophic. Will that cost fewer lives than now? Are the shinobi staying behind not lives too?"
Her eyes pierced Danzō like blades, sharp and furious.
"I object as well."
Ryo slowly lifted his head.
"The risk is too high." His tone was blunt.
"Reason," Danzō replied curtly. His eyes narrowed.
"Nawaki and Mikoto are still in camp."
"Whether the mission fails or not, the base will be exposed. If Suna attacks, they'll be the first to fall."
He added, "Flying Thunder God's range doesn't cover the entire battlefield. If they're in danger, I can't make it back."
That was the real reason for his refusal. He would never leave Mikoto vulnerable without high-level protection, where enemy elites could strike at any moment. Nawaki was mentioned only in passing.
Tsunade's eyes flickered with something hard to read, then quickly turned to deeper frustration.
"Heh. Interesting." Orochimaru suddenly chuckled, low and raspy, breaking the frozen atmosphere. He extended a long finger and lightly traced the name "Hanzō the Salamander" on the map. A flash of excitement passed through his crimson pupils.
"I find Danzō-sama's plan... full of potential."
He raised his eyes to Danzō and Ryo, licking his lips. His voice was slick, like something slithering.
"Hanzō the Demigod. What an enchanting target. His blood, his venom, his summon... all priceless research specimens. An opportunity like this... worth the risk."
He smiled coldly.
"Risk? Since when is any shinobi mission without risk? Better to bet everything on one fatal strike than slowly bleed out in this swamp. I support Danzō-sama's plan."
"I..." Jiraiya's voice was hesitant and out of place. He scratched his messy white hair in frustration, avoiding everyone's eyes, as if trying to shake off the pressure.
"I abstain. This decision... is too heavy."
He lowered his head and stared at the mud-stained tips of his boots, as if they held the answer.
"You three decide."
The atmosphere turned strange. Two votes against (Tsunade, Ryo), one in favor (Orochimaru), one abstention (Jiraiya). All eyes, including Danzō's sharp, shadowed gaze, turned toward the only person who had yet to speak.
The strategist—Nara Shikashin.
(To be continued.)