Chapter 11: Changes on the Front Line
In truth, the Five Great Nations do not directly border one another.
Each great country is surrounded by a ring of smaller nations—buffer zones that serve as their shields and pawns. These minor countries are often exploited, stripped of their resources, and treated as vassals. And when war comes, they become battlefields, ensuring that the flames of conflict never scorch the lands of the great powers themselves.
Thus, while the term border area is often used, Konoha's forward bases are, in reality, already within the Land of Rain.
As the crossroads between the three great villages—Konoha, Sunagakure, and Iwagakure—the Land of Rain has always been a strategist's paradise and a soldier's nightmare.
Other territories are either too vast or too treacherous for prolonged warfare, but the Land of Rain's terrain makes it the perfect battleground.
Konoha's battlefronts were therefore divided into two primary routes:
The Eastern Front, stretching through the Land of Rain against the Sand and Rock forces.
The Western Front, along the borders of the Land of Hot Water, opposing the Cloud forces.
As for Kirigakure, isolated across the sea, its reach was limited. The natural barrier of the coastline made any large-scale invasion from the Mist nearly impossible.
Thus, Konoha's forces primarily focused on deployment and reconnaissance in and around the Rain territory.
The three legendary sannin were stationed there to guard against the unexpected—to prevent sneak attacks from any coalition of enemy nations.
But that strategic choice came at a price.
Outside of the Defense Line, other areas were left relatively unprotected. It was an unavoidable compromise. The Land of Rain could not be abandoned—it was the central bridgehead linking the three major powers. If any two of them allied, the third would face inevitable ruin.
Unlike Kumogakure and Kirigakure, which were isolated by geography, the ties between the Fire, Wind, and Earth Nations were far more intricate and volatile. None could afford to look away for even a moment.
Yet Konoha's situation remained precarious. Their only comparable powerhouse—a high-ranking ninja capable of balancing the scales—had been declared dead a month ago.
Unable to muster additional reinforcements, Konoha could only fortify its defenses along the Rainfront… and pray.
That night, beneath the unrelenting downpour, the three Sannin—the highest commanders in the Land of Rain—moved in silence.
No other Jonin or Chunin accompanied them. Once the Sannin fought at full strength, their sheer power would devastate allies and expose their formation.
Even so, they weren't chasing ordinary foes.
The three legendary sannin had already pushed their limits to pursue the two mysterious figures ahead of them, yet could only glimpse the fluttering edges of their white haori through the rain.
It almost felt deliberate—like the two were intentionally keeping their distance, leading them onward.
"Shouldn't we at least give the others a heads-up?" Jiraiya muttered, leaping between the slick branches. "It feels weird for all three of us to just run off like this…"
"We need to catch them," Tsunade replied sharply, her eyes never leaving the two silhouettes in the distance. "They left documents in our command tent and then vanished. Even if their intentions are good, we have to know who they are."
"She's right," Orochimaru added coldly. "Whoever they are, they entered our tent undetected. Their abilities aren't ordinary. It's safer if the three of us handle this."
The three exchanged grim nods. They had watched, wide-eyed, as the intruders calmly walked into their tent, placed the documents on the table as though no one existed around them, and left through the front entrance as if invisible.
The lower-ranked shinobi hadn't reacted—hadn't even seen them.
That alone was enough to make the Sannin uneasy.
They didn't alert the others. Partly because they were confident that together, they could take down almost anyone. And partly because… the sight of one of those white haori stirred something in Tsunade's chest that she refused to name.
Her jaw tightened.
Please, let my instincts be wrong, she thought.
"…Well, this is fine."
The shorter of the two figures—his messy hair dampened by the rain—spoke suddenly.
Both haori-clad men stopped in a clearing, their backs to the Sannin.
Before Tsunade, Jiraiya, or Orochimaru could call out to them, the pair turned sharply.
And then they attacked.
Two blurs of motion—swift, silent, merciless—rushed toward the Sannin, striking with impossible precision.
The rain exploded around them, leaves scattering in all directions.
"You three," one of them said, his voice faintly amused, "you've been chasing so eagerly, even after all the clues we left for you. Tell me…"
He tilted his head slightly, his tone dripping with irony.
"…Are the so-called Sannin truly as great as the rumors claim?"
The leader glared at the three pursuing shinobi, his voice sharp and low with anger.
"Whether it's the route you chose or the way you arranged your guards—what were you thinking? When facing an enemy with stealth skills like that, you'd abandon your camp and chase them into the forest? What will you do if another village strikes while you're gone?"
"You're from Konoha, aren't you? The Uchiha clan...?"
The three shinobi halted mid-stride, staring blankly at the two masked figures ahead. Both wore white cloaks marked with Konoha's insignia, their expressions hidden behind porcelain masks.
The man in front didn't bother to cover his eyes. The three-tomoe Sharingan glimmered coldly under the moonlight—proof enough of his Uchiha bloodline.
On his cloak, the word six was inked beside the crimson fan symbol, giving him an aura both authoritative and oppressive.
But what truly froze the Sannin's hearts was the figure standing behind him.
That long, moon-white hair was unforgettable.
Tsunade's breath caught in her throat. Her mind screamed a single name—the one she had tried for years to forget.
Kato Dan.
Her lover. The man who had championed her medical corps dream. The man who had once stood beside her on countless battlefields.
And the man she had watched die.
The white-haired figure behind the Uchiha wore an animal mask, but his stance, his build, even the faint poise of his movements—all of it carved into her memory.
"D-Dan… is that you?"
Her voice trembled.
She saw it—his cloak bearing the number seven, and faint markings along the edge that looked like an old tattoo.
Her heart twisted violently.
Even without sensing his chakra, even if he had become nothing more than a shadow… Tsunade could never mistake him.
That was Kato Dan—the hero once mourned by the entire village.
"Dan!" she called out, taking an unsteady step forward. "You're alive? How—how is this possible?"
"…"
"Dan! Answer me!" Her voice cracked. "Was it a forbidden jutsu? Some summoning? Talk to me!"
"…"
The two masked men stood silently, unmoving, their presence heavier than the rain-soaked air.
Tsunade's vision blurred. The man she loved stood just meters away, yet felt impossibly distant.
The one called Kato Dan finally turned slightly toward his companion and spoke in a hushed tone.
"…Continue as planned."
The Uchiha beside him nodded. "Understood."
Both men reached into their sleeves and drew their weapons—twin blades that gleamed faintly under the pale moonlight.
A chill wind swept through the forest. The leaves whispered, the air tightened.
Under the white glow of the moon, something unfathomable began to stir.
The silvered blades reflected in the Sannin's eyes as the two masked figures lifted them horizontally.
Instantly, an unseen force pressed down on the clearing.
A suffocating weight filled the air—like the world itself rejected their existence. The Sannin staggered instinctively, breath catching in their throats as the pressure spread outward, warping the space around them.
What is this?!
The sudden burst of spiritual pressure disrupted their chakra flow, preventing any of them from forming seals. Even Jiraiya's attempt to summon a toad failed—his focus shattered by the crushing force.
Then, the twin blades began to glow—brilliant, searing white.
A whisper echoed between the two intruders, their voices overlapping like a haunting hymn.
"It seems… the beginning of the release."
"Rekindle—Ember."
"Separate—Soul."
Light and shadow twisted together, and the world itself seemed to scream.
When the radiance faded, the forest was empty.
Only Jiraiya and the Uchiha remained.
The white mist thinned, revealing that Tsunade and Orochimaru were gone—vanished as though erased from existence.
Jiraiya's eyes widened. "—!"
He couldn't sense their chakra. Couldn't feel their presence. It was as if reality itself had denied their existence.
Panic clawed at his chest. The oppressive pressure returned, heavier this time, forcing him to one knee.
Across from him, the Uchiha stood motionless beneath the pale moon, blade lowered, Sharingan gleaming behind the mask.
"Who are you?!" Jiraiya shouted, voice strained. "You wear Konoha's symbol! Why would you do this to your own village?!"
"…It is because we are from Konoha," the Uchiha said quietly, his tone heavy with conviction. "That we must do this."
The pressure lifted for an instant—just long enough for Jiraiya to move.
But before he could act, a dull crack echoed through the clearing.
The Uchiha lunged forward with inhuman speed, and Jiraiya barely registered the strike before pain exploded in his shoulder.
Blood sprayed across the dirt.
The masked man's crimson eyes locked onto his, three tomoe spinning hypnotically. He pressed the hilt of his weapon deeper, voice cold and distant.
"It's because you're a ninja of Konoha…"
His words pierced Jiraiya's consciousness like a curse.
"…that you must understand this."
The Sharingan glowed brighter, and his final whisper carried through the night—gentle, but filled with unbearable weight.
"My junior."
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