BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions ripped through the forest. Several shadows flickered through the canopy before a raspy, immature voice rang out.
"As expected of the elite ninja from the Land of Rain. Even when stumbling into a trap, your reaction speed is truly remarkable."
"Sakamoto Tatsuma?!"
An angry, terrified voice shouted back, but Tatsuma didn't bother responding. White light flashed through the trees, followed by several muffled groans. Then, the rainforest fell silent once more.
Tatsuma frowned slightly. Curiously, there was no system notification this time, but he didn't dwell on it. He turned to the other two, who had also finished clearing their respective enemy targets.
"Any surprises? Minato? Fugaku-senpai?"
Minato offered a reassuring smile. Fugaku merely shook his head, his face a mask of calm, though he couldn't help but steal another look at Tatsuma.
They had been a team for a while now, and his understanding of these two had deepened significantly. Yet, for the life of him, he could not wrap his head around Tatsuma's mental wiring.
When people fight, they fight. Why did this kid have to talk so much? Most people used trash talk to provoke the enemy into making a mistake. Tatsuma, however, had a tongue like honey. His words were so sweet they were practically diabetic. The weirdest part was that it didn't feel like a "smiling assassin" routine; his admiration for the enemy's skills felt genuinely, disconcertingly sincere.
And it wasn't just reserved for the enemy. Or for combat.
Fugaku felt like he would go to his grave haunted by what the kid had said at the urinal two days ago: "As expected of a fully developed man, your [REDACTED] is truly [REDACTED], but I'm definitely going to pee further than you."
The worst part? Fugaku had lost. Not because he couldn't out-distance the kid, but because Tatsuma had stood right next to him. He was so physically close that Fugaku's "engine" simply refused to start.
Who stands right next to someone at a urinal?! Did this kid have no concept of the "one-stall gap" social contract?! Outsiders really were a bunch of uncultured heathens!
Oblivious to Fugaku's spiraling resentment, Tatsuma spoke up. "I'll go collect the Suna ninja's bodies and reset the traps. You two take a breather."
With that, he vanished into the brush. Once he was gone, Minato finally revealed his right hand, which he had been hiding behind his back. He began to channel medical ninjutsu to slowly heal a shallow gash on his forearm.
By the time Tatsuma returned, Minato's wound was closed. He didn't bother hiding his hand anymore, and Tatsuma, though he noticed, didn't call him out on it. Instead, Tatsuma's brow remained furrowed in a deep scowl.
Fugaku had finally regained his composure. He looked toward the northern horizon and said, "The Land of Rain's movements are getting more frequent. It looks like they're finally losing their patience."
Minato nodded. "They probably see our constant clashes with the Sand as an opportunity to carve out some benefits for themselves."
Neither of them noticed that Tatsuma's expression had turned quite strange—even grim.
The two continued to exchange viewpoints, both feeling quite satisfied with their political analysis. Eventually, Minato realized Tatsuma hadn't spoken in a while. He turned around. "Tatsuma? You okay?"
Tatsuma shook his head. "Things aren't that simple."
Fugaku's brow twitched. "What do you mean?"
He and Minato had been having a perfectly pleasant conversation, sharing opinions they usually wouldn't dare voice back at the village or within the clan. He felt like he was finally flexing his political muscles, only for Tatsuma to shut him down with a single sentence.
Tatsuma held up a retrieved ninja tool pouch. "These people... they might not be Rain ninja."
Minato looked at the pouch with confusion. In the dim, filtered light of the rainforest, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but he trusted Tatsuma's instincts. He knew his friend wasn't the type to make baseless claims.
Fugaku, being an Uchiha, had far superior eyesight. Even in the gloom, and even from a greater distance than Minato, he spotted the anomaly instantly.
On the edge of the pouch's strap, caught in the buckle, were a few strands of red wool. Fugaku's eyes sharpened. That red wasn't the stain of blood; it was a thread caught from a specific type of fabric.
He stepped forward, snatched the pouch, and examined it closely. A moment later, a single name escaped his lips: "Iwagakure."
"The Hidden Stone?!"
Minato's eyes widened. Up until now, the war had been a bilateral affair between the Leaf and the Sand, with the Rain occasionally acting as a nuisance. There had been no sign of the other Great Nations.
But if Iwa was in the mix... that changed everything. If three of the five Great Nations were involved, it was no longer a "border conflict." It was a Great Ninja War.
The previous Great War had involved the Fire, Water, Earth, and Lightning nations. While it hadn't escalated into a total global meltdown where every single minor village participated, the sheer scale of the four Great Nations clashing had devastated the world.
Now, with Leaf and Sand already at each other's throats and the Rain looking to jump in, an intervention by the Hidden Stone would turn the Land of Rivers into a powder keg.
Fugaku felt a mounting pressure in his chest. This was a matter of international security; he should report this to the high command immediately. This was far above a Jonin's pay grade, let alone a squad leader's.
However, the evidence was flimsy. A few strands of red wool didn't prove the intruders were Iwa ninja. Who's to say a Rain ninja didn't just have a favorite red belt?
Iwa's standard uniform was red, but they didn't have a monopoly on the color. If he reported this and the high command launched a massive investigation only for it to be a misunderstanding, he—and by extension, the entire Uchiha clan—would be dragged through the mud.
Wasting village resources and inciting panic was a heavy charge. The Uchiha, already standing on thin ice with the village leadership, could not afford to be the "clans who cried wolf."
But ignoring it was equally dangerous. If Iwa truly was preparing to invade and he failed to report the vanguard, he would be guilty of gross negligence.
Worse yet, he wasn't the only one who knew. These two kids knew.
Tatsuma watched the emotions flicker across Fugaku's face like a kaleidoscope. He spoke up, offering an out. "I'll report this to Orochimaru-sama when we get back. I'll ask him to analyze the fibers to see if they match the Iwa uniform. Fugaku-senpai, you should contact the rest of the Uchiha units and have them intensify their scouting. We need more concrete evidence."
Fugaku snapped out of his trance. He shook his head, clearing away the darker thoughts that had briefly taken root, and handed the pouch back to Tatsuma.
"Tatsuma, I'll leave the reporting to you. And... try not to let this spread. We don't know for sure if it's Iwa, and even if it is, we don't know their objective. The fewer people who know, the better."
Tatsuma nodded solemnly. In his heart, he was almost certain it was Iwa. As for their goal? Like most nations that "late-join" a war, it was pure opportunism.
He remembered the original timeline. Iwa did make moves during the Second Great Ninja War. While it wasn't a total invasion of the Land of Fire, they certainly took their pound of flesh.
And he remembered exactly who they targeted: his teacher and her teammates—the future Legendary Sannin.
At this stage, the Sannin weren't yet at the peak of their legends. Hanzo wasn't the only one who would push them to the brink. During an Iwa ambush, Jiraiya would be severely injured, and Orochimaru would even consider the cold logic of killing his wounded teammate so that he and Tsunade could escape.
That famous line—"One person can't make it, two people might, but three people... we all die"—was etched into Tatsuma's memory.
It was the reason why, despite Orochimaru's repeated displays of "kindness" toward him, Tatsuma remained instinctively wary of the man. If given a choice, Orochimaru was the last person Tatsuma would want to handle a delicate situation.
But Orochimaru was the Commander. Compared to Tsunade's temperament, Orochimaru was objectively more "reliable" for military intelligence. He was also the highest authority Tatsuma could reach. The Elders and the Hokage were back at the village; without using the Yamanaka communication relay, this news wouldn't reach them for days.
Fugaku checked the area one last time. "Let's head back. This information is more important than the patrol."
In the grand scheme of the war, a few hours of missing patrol didn't matter. But Fugaku wanted to give the boys a sense of security. He wasn't sure if they had sensed his momentary lapse in judgment. By handing the information over to a third party—especially one as formidable as Orochimaru—he hoped to settle any nerves.
Minato, still an innocent kid, didn't suspect a thing. Tatsuma, lost in his own memories of the future, didn't notice Fugaku's subtle "damage control" either.
The three of them sped back toward the main battlefield. Fugaku didn't notify the other Uchiha yet; one squad pulling back wouldn't leave a hole, but a full clan withdrawal would be a disaster.
Back at the main camp, the battle was currently being fought by the rank-and-file. Curiously, the morale of the Suna ninja seemed to be flagging.
Fugaku waited at the perimeter while Minato stayed back as well. Tatsuma went alone to find Orochimaru. He handed over the pouch, and the Sannin's vertical pupils narrowed as he inspected the fibers. His face instantly became a mask of cold gravity.
"Is your entire squad back?"
Orochimaru's voice was raspy, the volume dropped to a whisper that made the words feel oily and dangerous. Tatsuma nodded. Orochimaru let out a long, slow breath, and his voice returned to its normal, haunting pitch.
"Good. I will handle this. Go to the rear and help with the wounded."