There was no pier, and no boats were needed. With a rush of fervor and anticipation, Yorin's 1,500 shinobi went plop-plop off the ships—style.
Some sprint-swam at ridiculous speed; others skimmed the surface with water-walking footwork.
A few were even more outrageous—short-range flight just above the sea—namely, Uchiha Yorin.
His Lightning Release hadn't hit that power yet. But his pseudo-Magnet Release derived from Lightning was enough for short-range flight—further boosting his mobility.
His innate speed advantage climbed another notch. And once he learned Flying Thunder God? Truly unbeatable—
Yes, Flying Thunder God and Rasengan. Those two techniques Yorin had been eyeing? He finally got them.
On the eve of the Norman Conquest, Minato quietly found Yorin and handed him the scrolls.
"Whatever happens, I want to raise the odds this mission succeeds. Personally, I want you to come back alive."
Minato gripped his shoulder.
"Fifteen hundred shinobi is still a bit lean. But this is covert action, not a frontal war; too many bodies means easier failure. This is the only way I can add to your chances… I should've taught you sooner, but the elders kept blocking it."
Then the usual "keep your head" and "I'm counting on you." No need for speeches.
Yorin was sure the other clans' shinobi were stuffed with parting gifts too. Even rank-and-file would carry a pair of superior kunai and extra tags.
The Uchiha, being Uchiha, just sent the whole family, front to back.
…
The army moved fast. In short order, 1,500 men landed on a barren beach: no pier, no village, almost no footprints. Perfect for secrecy, and only half a day from Kirigakure—the designated landing zone for the Norman landings.
A few kilometers ahead lay Kiri's patrol belt—cold, fog-shrouded highlands riddled with patrol teams. Traps, tags, tag-traps—ready for anything from across the sea.
Yorin glanced first at the three ex–Seven Swordsmen.
Hōzuki Mangetsu nodded.
They would guide the column through Kiri's trapworks and deliver the army safely to the village outskirts.
But with Kiri's density and tempo of patrols, Konoha couldn't simply slip through. The patrols needed to vanish—quietly—before warnings went up.
That meant committing the spearhead and the intel corps.
As vanguard general, Yorin's job was to open the road for the main body. Wiping patrols fell under his lane.
Partnered with him was Shisui. "Shunshin no Shisui" excelled at exactly this. They would split the route's flanks, left and right, clearing lanes.
Feeding them targets were the Hyūga, Aburame, and Inuzuka… and—eager to prove his worth—Black Zetsu.
Konoha's three intel clans are excellent. But compared to Black and White Zetsu, they're small shrines against a cathedral.
Black Zetsu can call plays over Kage-level battlefields. Coverage and reach massively outstrip Konoha's triad. If there's a limit, it's real-time responsiveness.
Even that minor flaw didn't dent his strategic value—
while the clans and the three swordsmen hashed patrol arcs and countersigns, Black Zetsu had already mapped the entire perimeter, dispatched White Zetsu scouts, and was streaming updates.
"That's that. Full picture confirmed," Black Zetsu said, utterly confident.
Though he and Yorin differed on "marry my mom," they remained allies in the main.
Obito was gone; Madara long dead. If Mother would return, Yorin was the best bet. Later—allying with Mother against Ōtsutsuki—would be the only bet.
For that, he even offered a "friendly" warning:
"I'm willing to work with you. Mother might not be. Without enough power, after she revives, you'll be culled like the rest. Lions only walk beside tigers—at worst, leopards. You're still far from it, Yorin."
"I know. It's fine. Sage body, sage eyes, sage power—one day I'll stand above all," Yorin said, unruffled.
"Quite confident," Zetsu thought—admiring, wary, and a touch regretful.
In a thousand years, he'd never seen a creature like this—broader than Asura or Indra's reincarnations. But even so, Yorin would never reach his wish. Mother is off-spec, beyond category.
"You will be devoured by Mother," Zetsu told himself. "Until then, I'll watch how far you go, Uchiha Yorin. May your life blaze bright, my ally."
…
All this was private. The Konoha army knew nothing, not even Yorin's inner circle.
They were merely stunned at Zetsu's capability, muttering, "Weird face, real talent." And secretly thought: Leave it to Yorin to headhunt this guy.
Not everyone was thrilled.
Inuzuka Claw, feeling her face trampled, barked at Zetsu's patrol map. "So precise, huh, black and white face?"
As the Inuzuka chief—a frontline bruiser—she herself brought a crack detachment. She had to protect her turf. On the flanks, Aburame's dark shades and Hyūga's pale eyes said the same without speaking.
"We need everyone's strengths," Yorin said gently—he'd come to make allies, not enemies. "Zetsu only marked broad threat lanes at range. Kiri patrols keep moving; exact positions still depend on Hyūga sight, Aburame sensor swarms, and Inuzuka noses. You and Zetsu complement each other—not compete."
"Hah! You're slick, kid," Inuzuka Claw laughed, thumping his shoulder. "Shame my girl's not old enough—or I'd make you my son-in-law. All right then—give the order, General."
Watching Yorin smooth the frictions, Fugaku nodded, pleased. "Good. Shisui, Yorin—move per plan and open the road for the host. Intel teams, on their shoulder."
"Yes."
"No problem."
"Yes, General."
With their chorus, Fugaku felt ten feet tall. He raised a hand and declared, "I hereby announce—Operation: Norman Conquest begins!"
"Yes, General," Yorin answered softly—but brimming with fire.
At that moment, System chimed:
[Conquest Quest: Kirigakure — prerequisites met]
Objective: Conquer Kirigakure
Rewards: +3 Free Attribute Points; Water-nature Chakra; Kekkei Genkai: Shikotsumyaku; 7 units Special Chakra Metal; Sense Oceanic Natural Energy
(Go, boy. Boil the sea, blow away the blood-fog, and grind the island village to dust!)
Yorin's lips curled into a sharp, handsome grin.
Rich rewards.
In that case, he'd accept—gladly.
He couldn't help it: hmhmhm—hahaha—hahahahaha…
From an enemy's view, that laugh was pure madness. From behind him, it was pure reassurance.
~~~
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