Soldier Pills with Plain Water—Even a Daimyō Can't Match the Despair of Akatsuki's Logistics
Land of Lightning
Akatsuki–Kumogakure Front
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!
"Damn it!!"
"This stronghold is rigged with explosive tags again!"
"How many explosive tags did Akatsuki prepare this time? Just this area alone has at least three hundred buried!"
"There's no one here—did they evacuate in advance?!"
A chain of explosions ripped through the forest.
More than twenty elite Kumogakure jōnin flashed through the trees, dodging blast after blast, emerging covered in ash and soot.
Fortunately, they were all veteran Cloud shinobi—battle-hardened survivors who had clawed their way out of mountains of corpses. By now, they were thoroughly accustomed to Akatsuki's absurd explosive-tag tactics and had mentally prepared for being bombarded before every operation.
There were no casualties.
Once safety was confirmed, the jōnin cursed Akatsuki's shameless methods in relatively relaxed tones.
After all—
they were still alive.
Only one man wore a grim expression.
The First Raikage.
Ninja warfare had always been about deception, feints, and information asymmetry. Battles like those between Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha—where raw power crushed everything—were the rare exception.
This location had once served as a temporary shelter for over a hundred wounded Akatsuki shinobi.
Uchiha Makoto himself often came alone to visit the injured here.
If they could truly catch Makoto isolated, this war might end immediately.
At the same time, the First Raikage had been constantly dispatching shinobi to locate Makoto's headquarters.
A carefully planned decapitation strike could end a war he never wanted to fight in the first place.
Beheading the leadership never went out of style.
To obtain intelligence on this base, he had planned meticulously for a long time.
If they could wipe out over a hundred Akatsuki shinobi—even wounded ones—it would still count as a major victory.
Kumogakure desperately needed such a win to stabilize its collapsing morale.
But—
They had come up empty.
"Security team, set up a temporary perimeter."
"Recon team, search the base for any remaining intelligence or supplies."
"Everyone else—rest."
"Yes, Raikage-sama!"
The First Raikage issued orders, and the jōnin responded in unison.
The heat was oppressive.
The blazing sun scorched the land, making it feel like standing inside a furnace.
After hours of nonstop movement, the jōnin eagerly sought shade the moment they were dismissed. Even the First Raikage, despite his frustration, found a cool spot to recover his stamina.
"Soldier pills with plain water—
even the daimyō can't compare to us…"
A half-sung, half-muttered voice drifted out.
Everyone turned.
A jōnin was replenishing his strength with a soldier pill and water, chanting nonsense as he ate.
"Relaxed, aren't you?" someone laughed.
"Aren't you afraid the daimyō will wipe out your nine generations?"
"Who cares?" the jōnin shrugged.
"We're living today without knowing if there's a tomorrow."
Several jōnin joined in, chewing soldier pills and drinking water while joking about the 'Nine-Generations Song'.
To save time, everyone—including the First Raikage—had gone into this raid with nothing but soldier pills and water. Wartime left no room for privileges, even for a Kage.
The words were blatantly disrespectful to the daimyō.
The First Raikage's already dark face grew darker still.
Irritation welled up inside him.
Yet knowing what frontline shinobi were enduring, the words that reached his lips were swallowed back down.
He had no choice.
Life on the front lines was brutal.
These men were fighting with their lives hanging from their belts. If even complaints weren't allowed, that would be cruelty.
Punishing subordinates over words like this would risk mutiny.
So the First Raikage remained silent.
But his frustration wasn't truly aimed at the jōnin.
It was aimed at himself.
This was his failure as Raikage.
His weakness had dragged Kumogakure into this quagmire.
If only he had been more cautious from the beginning—
The war would never have reached this point.
Just then, cheers erupted.
The recon team.
They hadn't found intelligence—Akatsuki either took everything with them or burned what they couldn't carry. The shinobi world hadn't yet invented a method to reconstruct intelligence from ashes.
But they had found something else.
A basement that hadn't been destroyed.
An underground ice storage facility.
"Akatsuki beef?!"
"This… this is chocolate, right?"
"My god—so much ice cream?!"
Shouts of joy rang out.
The jōnin who had been resting leapt to their feet and rushed over, smiles spreading across their faces.
This was a genuine windfall.
War was fought with money, grain, and logistics.
The shinobi world was no different.
Kumogakure's supply lines were already under crushing pressure.
Akatsuki had spent months preparing for war.
Kumogakure had been caught completely off guard.
They lacked both time and funds to prepare for a village-scale war never before seen.
Their first and second defensive lines—built at enormous expense—had been obliterated, along with all the supplies stored there.
Akatsuki had seized everything.
Kumogakure's logistics were already nearing crisis.
If this continued—
Cloud shinobi really would be eating soldier pills with water for every meal.
Just thinking about it made the First Raikage's head ache.
Soldier pills were never designed for taste.
They existed only to temporarily restore chakra and stamina during combat—to prevent starvation and rapid fatigue.
Flavor? Morale?
Not their problem.
Still—
At this moment, even the First Raikage followed the others forward.
The ice storage lay deep underground.
Such a facility was extremely expensive to build.
Akatsuki hadn't had the heart to destroy it during evacuation—and likely gambled that Kumogakure wouldn't find such a hidden place.
Unfortunately for them—
It was discovered.
"Damn it… Akatsuki is living in luxury."
"Spending that much money on an ice vault?"
"Ice cream, steak, chocolate—everything."
"Do they think they're noble lords?"
"Everyone's been working hard. Divide it all up."
"We can't take it with us—and we definitely can't leave it for Akatsuki."
The First Raikage's brief joy vanished the instant he saw the ice vault.
Akatsuki wasn't stronger than Kumogakure in raw combat.
They only held the advantage through massive quantities of explosive tags.
But now it was clear—
Their logistics and funding were far superior as well.
If this continued—
Kumogakure's future…
The accompanying jōnin didn't think that far.
They cheered.
For days, every meal had been padded with soldier pills. They hadn't eaten a proper meal in ages.
Now they finally could.
Akatsuki steaks were hauled out.
Fire Release users quickly set up cooking fires.
Cloud shinobi crowded around.
Chocolate was unwrapped and eaten piece by piece.
Sweetness flooded their tongues; dopamine surged through their brains.
Soon, the aroma of sizzling meat filled the air.
Chocolate was pocketed for later.
The jōnin rushed the finished steaks.
Ice cream followed as dessert.
Who wouldn't want cold sweetness in this blazing heat?
"Damn Akatsuki—spoiled rich boys!"
"If they didn't have so much money, we'd have beaten them already!"
"Where the hell did they get so many explosive tags?!"
They complained while eating Akatsuki's ice cream.
The First Raikage listened, helpless.
Logistics.
Funding.
And that cursed public opinion.
For some reason, even though Kumogakure was the victim, the entire shinobi world treated them as the aggressor who started the war.
In the end—
The First Raikage scooped up a large spoonful of ice cream, imagining it was Uchiha Makoto himself, and swallowed it whole.
Damn good ice cream.
After eating, he prepared to return to base.
Suddenly—
A communications jōnin rushed over.
A summoned messenger beast spat out an urgent report.
"Raikage-sama—emergency intel!"
"What?! Konoha has deployed troops?!"
Fear flashed in the First Raikage's eyes.
He could ignore public opinion—it was just noise.
Logistics were painful, but not yet fatal.
Kumogakure can endure.
Let the shinobi suffer. I'll bear the infamy.
Three meals of soldier pills and water a day—
they could still hold on.
Even if they couldn't win, they could at least force a draw.
But if Konoha entered the war—
That changed everything.
One Akatsuki was already overwhelming.
Add Konoha, and the war was no longer worth fighting.
It would be an instant collapse.
But surrender?
Impossible.
If Kumogakure surrendered in its very first war since founding—
How would it ever stand in the shinobi world again?
Their heads would forever bow lower than others'.
And what about the dead Cloud shinobi?
Their blood hadn't been avenged.
"No matter what—we cannot surrender!"
"…Then we'll have to take a risk."
Akatsuki Stronghold
"So Senju Tobirama—that naturally sinister Senju bastard—finally couldn't hold back anymore?"
"I thought you'd drag it out until the very end."
Uchiha Makoto murmured while reading intelligence reports.
His prewar arrangements within Konoha had paid off.
Spreading Akatsuki victory narratives, stirring civilian unrest, provoking protests at the Hokage Building—
All of it had been violently suppressed by Tobirama.
But the aftereffects were only beginning.
Akatsuki would have plenty of chances to exploit that later.
For now, Makoto didn't have time to play political games.
Konoha's intervention left him conflicted.
Dragging out this war was costly even for Akatsuki.
No matter how fast they regenerated—
You couldn't let HP keep dropping forever.
The more Akatsuki lost, the worse it became for his future plans.
If Konoha's entry could end the war quickly—
That would be ideal.
But the commander was Senju Tobirama.
Once that man entered the battlefield, nothing good ever followed.
After such a long war of attrition, letting Tobirama casually reap the rewards of Akatsuki's victory made Makoto deeply uncomfortable.
"Soldiers come—block them."
"Water comes—dam it."
No choice.
Tobirama was just too lucky.
Backed by a god-tier older brother.
For now, Makoto could only respond passively.
One day—after Senju Hashirama dies—
I'll settle accounts with Tobirama.
Even through Edo Tensei, I won't let him go.
My laboratory is short on research cattle like him.
If he won't work, I'll whip him.
That's fun too.
And I'll drag Izuna Uchiha along—personally.
Makoto's thoughts drifted, and a grin crept onto his face.
Compared to Kumogakure—
His anxiety was nothing.
Akatsuki was guaranteed to win.
At worst, it was just a question of big victory or medium victory.
Kumogakure, on the other hand—
They were the truly desperate ones.
Desperation breeds recklessness.
Recklessness breeds mistakes.
And mistakes create opportunities—
For a swift, decisive end.
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