"Heading to the front? Sensei, shouldn't you stay at the camp to keep working on antidotes for Chiyo's poisons?"
Tatsuma's voice was tinged with genuine curiosity. Tsunade flashed a smug, self-satisfied grin.
"If you're interested, you can take a look at my research notes later. Chiyo unleashed fifteen different toxic compounds this time. I completely neutralized every single one of them in less than two weeks. Do you know how?"
Tsunade's eyes were sparkling with a pride she couldn't even pretend to hide. Tatsuma thought about it for a second, his analytical mind already whirring.
"I imagine those fifteen compounds weren't entirely unique," he mused. "They were likely permutations—different combinations and ratios of a few core toxins. Once you identified and cracked the primary base toxins, the rest of the variations lost their potency as the body could filter out the neutralized components. It's basically... chemical factorization."
As Tatsuma spoke, the triumph in Tsunade's eyes flickered and died. Her smirk vanished. Suddenly, despite it being early summer, Tatsuma felt a localized, biting chill in the air.
WHACK!
"OW!"
"You just have to be a little genius, don't you?!" Tsunade barked, her fist having just delivered a sharp "chestnut" to the top of his skull.
Tatsuma hissed, clutching the growing bump on his head with both hands. "You're the one who asked me!" he protested indignantly.
"Ever heard of a rhetorical question?!" Tsunade snapped, her logic as impenetrable as her strength.
For a moment, Tatsuma actually questioned if he was the one in the wrong. Then he shook his head, muttering under his breath, "That 'shortcut' method sounded awfully familiar, though..."
"Hmph!"
Tsunade didn't wait for him to connect the dots. She spun on her heel and marched away like someone fleeing the scene of an embarrassing social blunder. Once she had put a safe distance between them, she called back over her shoulder, "If you want to go to the front, go pack your gear. I'm not waiting around for you."
"Got it!" Tatsuma started to agree, but then paused as a thought struck him. "Sensei! Can I bring Minato along?"
"Bring whoever the hell you want. If he dies, it's on you!"
She didn't even turn around, just waved a dismissive hand as she sped off. Tatsuma watched her go, a fresh wave of confusion washing over him. A few seconds later, the realization hit him, and he let out a breath of relief. He'd dodged a bullet; Tsunade must have been in a remarkably good mood today, or that "bonk" would have sent him through a wall.
He wasn't about to sue her for "intellectual property theft" anyway. While the Modular Learning—or factorization—approach was his idea, Minato had helped him refine it for Ninjutsu. Tsunade applying it to medical toxicology was a brilliant adaptation that undoubtedly saved lives. She still had to do the heavy lifting of cracking the base toxins; his method just saved her the grunt work of doing it fifteen separate times.
The Logistics of War
Tatsuma returned to his tent and dragged out his oversized backpack. He carefully sorted through his remaining supplies, restocking what he could before heading to the logistics camp.
Upon arrival, he found Minato squatting by a small stream. His hands were moving in a yellow blur as he scrubbed... lunch boxes.
On the front lines, ninjas survived on Soldier Pills to maintain their stamina and keep moving. But in a massive base like this, no one ate those chalky things if they could help it. Soldier Pills were great for emergencies, but they were terrible for the digestive system—long-term use was a one-way ticket to chronic constipation.
Consequently, the kitchen and delivery staff were the unsung heroes of the camp. Even a teenage prodigy like Minato had to start his war career from the bottom: washing dishes and delivering takeout.
Tatsuma walked up behind him. Before he could say a word, Minato—his senses sharp even while scrubbing—spoke first. "Tatsuma? What are you doing here? Getting hungry?"
"No," Tatsuma said, leaning against a tree. "Minato, do you want to head to the front?"
The rhythmic scrubbing of the wooden boxes stopped instantly. A flicker of longing and envy crossed Minato's eyes before he caught himself. He turned around, his face lit up with surprise. "I can go? Really?"
Minato had asked Orochimaru several times, but after Tatsuma had nearly died in the forest, Orochimaru had flatly refused to let another "prodigy" risk their life until the situation stabilized.
"I asked Sensei," Tatsuma explained. "If you want to go, get your gear ready. We'll be moving with the main force this time, so the risk should be lower. Orochimaru-sama won't overrule her."
Minato was ecstatic, though a bit apprehensive. He didn't know the specifics of the command structure between the two Sannin, and his Academy training told him that Orochimaru was the official Commander-in-Chief. But the prospect of finally seeing action was too tempting to pass up.
He stood up, ripping off his kitchen apron. "I need to tell Akimichi Go-sama first. Tatsuma, wait for me!"
"Sure thing."
Minato vanished with a Body Flicker. A few minutes later, he was back, grinning from ear to ear. "Go-sama said it's fine. I'm ready whenever!"
Tatsuma looked him up and down and sighed. "Empty-handed? Even Duy-gege knows to bring nunchucks on a mission. You don't even have your kunai pouch on you."
Minato flushed red, realizing he'd let his excitement get the better of him. He started to turn back toward his tent, but Tatsuma stopped him. "I'll walk with you. It's on the way."
They reached Minato's tent, and Tatsuma watched as his friend hauled out a pack that was, if anything, even larger than his own. Watching Minato clumsily stuff loose items into the bag, Tatsuma briefly reconsidered his decision. Was this kid really ready for a war zone?
But then, the transformation happened.
The moment Minato buckled the last strap and adjusted his forehead protector, the "takeout boy" vanished. His giddy expression smoothed out into a calm, focused mask. He looked at Tatsuma and offered a simple, steady nod.
"Let's go, Tatsuma. We shouldn't keep the unit waiting."
The Gathering Storm
The two boys followed the flow of other shinobi toward the assembly point. They didn't need a map; half the camp was moving in the same direction.
As they entered the staging area, they were immediately spotted by Orochimaru. The Sannin's vertical pupils fixed on them for a long, lingering moment. He didn't say a word, nor did he move to stop them. He simply turned back to his scrolls and continued giving orders.
Minato let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His fighting spirit, which had been simmering for weeks, finally began to boil. The village trusts me, he thought, his resolve hardening. I won't let them down.
"Sakamoto Tatsuma! Namikaze Minato! Over here!"
A gruff, booming voice cut through the air. Minato's posture straightened instantly. This was it—his first formal combat assignment.
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