"What? The Raikage is dead?"
The thought echoed in the darkness of the helmet.
"Impossible! He's the strongest shield in the village!"
"Damn it! Those Stone bastards... ten thousand of them..."
"The Iwa front has collapsed. The Yellow Flash is moving north. We're being squeezed."
Tonbo sat in the chair, the Mental Amplifier humming softly around his head. The device made the process incredibly smooth. Instead of fighting through mental static, the memories flowed like a clear stream.
The intelligence was definitive. The Third Raikage had fallen, sacrificing himself to hold back an army of ten thousand Iwa shinobi. His death had shattered Kumo's momentum.
And then there was the "A-B Combo."
Through the dead Chunin's memories, Tonbo saw flashes of a muscular man with lightning armor and a younger, rapping Jinchuriki wielding seven swords. They were a powerhouse duo, crushing everything in their path—until they met the Yellow Flash.
Minato Namikaze had intercepted them. The battle was a blur of speed that the Chunin's eyes couldn't even track properly. But the result was a stalemate, followed by Kumo's retreat.
With their leader dead and enemies pressing on two fronts, the Cloud Village was buckling.
"I have to admit," Tonbo mused, disconnecting from the helmet, "Kumo has guts. Fighting Konoha and Iwa simultaneously? That's confidence."
He also gained a new appreciation for high-level ninjutsu. The Kumo Chunin possessed knowledge of Lightning Release Nature Transformation. It wasn't enough to learn Chidori, but it gave Tonbo insight into why Kakashi was such a freak of nature.
Chidori required extreme Nature Transformation combined with Shape Manipulation, executed at speeds that necessitated a Sharingan to control. It wasn't something you could just copy for fun.
Same with the Rasengan, Tonbo thought with a sigh. I tried swirling water in a balloon a few months ago. It's impossible without knowing the exact rotation ratios. Minato spent three years on it for a reason.
Real life wasn't an anime. You couldn't just shout the name of a move and expect it to work. "Abracadabra" didn't summon a toad.
Tonbo picked up a pen and began to write.
He transcribed everything. The Raikage's death coordinates. Troop movements. Supply line disruptions. Even the personal habits of the commanding officers.
He was the perfect employee.
In the Intel Division, data was god. You collected raw sewage, filtered it, and handed the gold nuggets to the Hokage.
"Done."
He handed the thick file to the service ninja.
"Oh, right," the ninja said, taking the stack. "Director Inoichi wanted me to pass on a message. Since you're new to the HQ routine... the Intel Division operates differently in peacetime."
"Oh?" Tonbo paused. "Is there overtime?"
Please say no. I have a date with a bowl of ramen.
"No, quite the opposite," the ninja explained. "Here in the village, we don't get fresh bodies every day. Enemy nations use Corpse Disposal Units to destroy intel in the field. So, when there are no heads to crack, you have free time."
"To avoid wasting resources, you are encouraged to use the Analysis Library. It contains case studies on logic, cryptography, and macro-analysis."
"Or," the ninja added, "You can take D-rank and C-rank missions in the village to help out. Guard duty, logistics, inventory..."
Tonbo nodded. So that's why Izumo and Kotetsu are always doing random jobs like gate guarding and exam proctoring. They're basically the village handymen.
"Speaking of which," Tonbo wondered, "Izumo and Kotetsu were in my graduating class. I wonder if they're stuck guarding the gate yet?"
The Analysis Library was a quiet sanctuary. It was the size of a football field, filled with rows of dusty scrolls and books.
Tonbo pulled a volume titled Macro-Strategic Analysis of the Second War.
It was fascinating. It broke down enemy movements not by jutsu, but by math. Logistics. Geography. Calculating the speed of a ninja squad versus the terrain to predict their arrival time within a margin of minutes.
Tonbo devoured the information. His transmigration talent for rapid learning wasn't limited to combat. He absorbed logic and strategy like a sponge.
Days turned into weeks.
His routine became clockwork.
Morning: Report to HQ. If there was a body, he read it. If not, he assisted in decoding encrypted scrolls from the front.
Afternoon: The Library.
Evening: Training Ground 98 for Taijutsu and Genjutsu refinement.
Night: Ichiraku Ramen.
His frequent visits to the ramen stand didn't go unnoticed.
Tosei Tobitake, suspicious that his son was skipping his home-cooked meals, had tailed him one night. Peeking from behind a telephone pole, the one-armed father saw Tonbo laughing with Ayame while Teuchi beamed in the background.
Tosei wiped a tear from his eye.
My boy... he's not just a Chunin. He's securing a future daughter-in-law.
Satisfied, Tosei went home and started cooking only for himself, leaving Tonbo to his "strategic diplomacy."
The war ground to a halt.
From the fragmented memories of the few prisoners trickling in, Tonbo watched the end game play out.
Kumo retreated to lick its wounds.
Iwa pulled back, exhausted.
Suna, broken by the disappearance of the Third Kazekage, elected Rasa as the Fourth. He immediately sued for peace to stabilize his starving village.
The Third Great Ninja War was effectively over.
For Tonbo, life was good. The high-stress combat missions were gone. Now, it was just paperwork and training.
While his peers like Seishi complained about headaches from reading too many traumatic memories, Tonbo thrived.
"Man, I'm going crazy," Seishi groaned, slumping over his desk. "I saw a guy get eaten by a giant snake yesterday. I can't sleep."
"Have some tea," Tonbo said, not looking up from his book on advanced cryptography. "And try focusing on the technical data instead of the emotions. Detach yourself."
"Easy for you to say, Mr. Prodigy," Seishi muttered.
Tonbo smiled.
He wasn't a prodigy. He was just a guy who knew the ending of the story. And right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Safe. Fed. And waiting for the Fourth Hokage's inauguration.