Yagami left three squads behind to continue monitoring the Senju clan, then departed the village alone to carry out his new mission.
His target: Shinmei, thirty-two years old, a Chūnin and one of Hatake Sakumo's known followers. Among the group, he was one of the oldest and attended every gathering.
For a ninja to live to thirty-two meant that, even if his strength wasn't remarkable, his experience surely was.
Sakumo was famous for how deeply he valued his comrades. He treated everyone with honesty and warmth—after every mission, he would befriend his teammates, regardless of rank or background.
He often invited them to his home, or out to the yakiniku shop and Tavern.
To Sakumo, every companion was someone to treasure—because the next time they met might be at the Memorial Stone.
At the village gate, Yagami spotted his target's squad.
The team's captain was Sarutobi Senjin, a fourteen-year-old Special Jōnin. The other three were all Chūnin.
In Leaf, that was considered an elite formation.
They departed quickly, heading west toward the Land of Rivers. Yagami followed from a distance.
With the River War about to begin, many squads were leaving Leaf village that day.
As Yagami tailed them, something caught his attention.
When he himself had become a special Jōnin at seventeen, it had taken endless effort and blood. Yet Sarutobi Senjin, only fourteen, had already achieved the same rank—clearly a prodigy.
But on the road, his breathing was heavier than that of his teammates. Odd.
Yagami adjusted his scope from the treetop he was hiding in, unrolled the mission scroll, and reviewed the data again.
Sarutobi Senjin—promoted after completing a high-risk capture mission in the Land of Grass, personally recommended by Mitokado Homura.
Only he and the prisoner had returned alive, the rest of the squad had perished.
Perhaps his taijutsu wasn't great—maybe he was a ninjutsu-type.
On the road through the Land of Rivers, they passed many civilians migrating south.
War rumors had spread, and people were fleeing toward the remote regions.
Fields lay untended in the middle of spring planting, famine would surely come by autumn.
Civilians were cautious. Ninja often disguised themselves as refugees, assassinating one another among the masses. When war reached its cruelest stage, the common folk always died first.
Sarutobi's team crossed the River Country and entered the deserts of the Land of Wind.
Reaching a small oasis near the border, Sarutobi crouched behind a dune.
"You three, approach the oasis from three directions," he ordered. "Gather intelligence inside."
The three Chūnin exchanged uncertain looks.
Shinmei, the oldest among them, hesitated before offering a suggestion.
"Captain, an oasis means fresh water—it's a natural supply base, and therefore heavily guarded.
Shouldn't we proceed step by step?
We could start by observing the Sand's transport teams—see what materials they're bringing in.
For example, by counting the number of joint rotors, we could estimate how many puppet masters are being deployed."
Sarutobi's expression hardened. "Are you defying orders?"
Disobeying an order—or refusing a mission—was a grave crime in the village. In serious cases, execution was permitted on the spot.
From afar, through his scope, Yagami watched as the three Chūnin split up and infiltrated from different directions.
His heart sank.
That's suicide. Who designed this tactic?
Three infiltrators from three directions, straight into an enemy base?
The oasis easily held over a hundred Sand ninja.
Within minutes, all three ran into danger.
Meanwhile, Captain Sarutobi Senjin stayed prone behind his dune, watching with disturbing calm—intent on not missing a single detail.
In Leaf's hierarchy, when a captain stopped seeing his subordinates as people, those subordinates rarely survived long.
Yagami hesitated, calculating whether or not to intervene.
Whether to save Shinmei depended on one question—was Hatake Sakumo worth investing in?
After weeks of quiet observation, Yagami knew Sakumo's reputation was spotless.
He treated everyone around him with sincerity.
Precisely because he cared so much, a loyal circle had formed naturally—but he failed to see how dangerous that was.
The higher-ups didn't fear disorganized common-born ninja.
What they feared was unity—when civilians and lower clans began to organize.
An atomized village was a controllable village.
Unruly clans and cohesive civilian groups were always the first to be purged.
What Sakumo lacked… was someone willing to shoulder the darkness for him.
Yagami clenched his fists, the desert sand slipping between his fingers again and again.
He walked in the shadows—he was part of Hidden leaf's darkness.
He was perfect for the role.
Let Sakumo stand in the light, Yagami would move unseen in the dark.
And with the Senju clan's influence added to the balance, the higher-ups would have a real problem on their hands.
He even imagined someday setting up a scene.
A cold day, a quiet street.
Sakumo wearing the Hokage's robe and hat, sighing—"You've all made me suffer for this…"
Yes. Hatake Sakumo—the "White Fang"—was worth investing in.
Yagami made up his mind.
He rose silently and dashed forward through the sand.
He couldn't approach Sakumo directly—any ANBU doing so would only be met with suspicion.
But if he could save Shinmei, Sakumo's loyal subordinate, that would send the right signal—one that might one day bridge trust between them.
Moments later, chaos erupted inside the oasis.
Three leaf ninja were surrounded by Sand troops.
Separated on different fronts, none could see the others, but they moved with shared resolve—to extract as much intel as possible before dying.
Shinmei glanced toward where his captain was hiding, praying his death might at least mean something.
From a distance, Yagami sighed.
Such good men… wasted under such command. Cruel.
Three Sand ninja closed in on Shinmei.
"Wind Style: Gale Palm!"
The trio released a flurry of wind that didn't strike Shinmei directly—it slammed into the sand beneath his feet.
A storm of dust and grit exploded upward.
Blinded, Shinmei bolted left, trying to break free of the choking sandstorm.
The instant he emerged—
A crocodile puppet lunged from the side, its mouth agape.
Inside gleamed a row of steel senbon needles, their tips coated in deadly purple-black venom.
The mechanism clicked—
And then—
A massive earthen lance burst from beneath the puppet, spearing through its jaws and pinning them shut!
Shinmei spun around and saw a masked ANBU standing there—a fox-faced operative.
ANBU?
A weighted iron ball attached to wire whistled through the air, wrapping around Shinmei's waist and yanking him backward.
He skimmed over the sand for dozens of meters before crashing down beside his rescuer.
He looked up just as four puppets closed in on the fox-masked ANBU.
Human-shaped and beast-shaped both—their movements unpredictable, their weapons hidden in unnatural joints.
Beast puppets were the worst; their strike angles defied logic.
Yagami danced among them, steps fluid, cloak fluttering.
Breaking free of their encirclement, he flew through hand signs.
"Water Style: Severing Wave!"
A razor-thin torrent of water erupted from his mouth, slicing across the air in a single sweeping arc.
In an instant, all four puppets were cut cleanly in half.
Wood, iron, and blood splattered the sand; kunai and senbon spilled from their broken torsos.
Shinmei stood frozen.
Those things… just got shredded?
Yagami flicked two kunai toward the side, forcing two hidden puppet masters to leap out from the sand.
Before they could react, the same shimmering water line whipped through the air again.
The two Sand shinobi were bisected at the waist—
their entrails hitting the sand like batter-coated tempura crumbs.
The new Water Severing Wave—a technique Yagami had only just mastered—was brutally efficient.
It had raised his combat power to an entirely new tier.
After cutting down a few more pursuers to erase all witnesses, Yagami turned and shouted.
"Follow me!"
Shinmei, still stunned, nodded hard and sprinted after him.
***
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