The Land of Grass sits nestled between the Land of Earth and the Land of Fire, serving as the shortest bridge connecting the two great nations.
Its geography dictates its fate: it is both a beachhead for the Hidden Rock's incursions into the Land of Fire and a critical focal point of Konoha's defensive perimeter.
The Hidden Rock had deployed thousands of combatants here. However, due to the sheer distance from their home territory, they had to send regular supply convoys to the front lines to maintain their strength and guard against Konoha's inevitable counterattacks.
To manage this, the Rock utilized specialized logistics units of varying sizes.
Among them was a Chunin named Yoshida, part of a twelve-man supply squad.
Though their numbers were small and their transport capacity limited, the cargo they carried was vital.
Medicine. They were responsible for the periodic delivery of urgent medical supplies to the front lines.
While most of their route lay within the borders of the Land of Earth—making the journey relatively safe—they remained cautious, as was the nature of shinobi.
Upon reaching a forward base, they would typically rest for a day before immediately beginning their return journey the following morning.
But as the mission was repeated time and again without incident, that edge of caution began to dull.
Consequently, they were entirely unaware that they had been marked.
The mission had proceeded as smoothly as ever. With the supplies delivered, the squad had been traveling away from the base for half a day before stopping for a scheduled rest.
Yoshida was assigned as the sentry.
Suddenly, a dry reed bed not far from the resting site erupted with a strange rustling and a violent swaying.
"An enemy?"
The Rock shinobi instantly snapped into a state of high alert.
"Yoshida! Go check it out," the captain commanded the sentry immediately.
"Ah? Me? I... by myself?"
Chunin Yoshida clearly hadn't expected the duty to fall on his shoulders.
"Is there a problem?"
The captain's tone hadn't changed, but the cold weight behind the words made Yoshida shudder.
"No, none at all."
Muttering his response, he scurried off toward the reeds. He pretended not to hear the hushed gossip behind him.
"How is a guy like that even a Chunin?"
"And why was he assigned to our squad?"
"With that kind of cowardice, how did he survive the battlefield? I heard he used to be active on the front lines."
The rumors weren't wrong. Yoshida was twenty-seven years old. In the early days of the war, he had been full of spirit and fought with aggression... until he encountered the brutal, meat-grinder reality of the front-line clash with the Cloud. That living hell had broken him.
Yoshida refused to revisit those memories, yet the scenes remained etched into the back of his mind, refusing to fade.
A lucky survivor, he had transformed from an ambitious youth into a coward terrified of death. Unable to function on the front lines, he was relegated to the mundane tasks of logistics.
To his teammates, he was a nuisance—someone unworthy of the title of ninja.
Driven by the captain's gaze, Yoshida started with a brisk pace, but as he neared the reed bed, his movements became sluggish.
He would take a few steps forward, only to jump back as if startled by a ghost.
Nothing happened. He scratched his head, and as if finally remembering he was a shinobi, he fumbled a kunai out of his pouch before creeping into the reeds with exaggerated caution.
His teammates watched, their tension turning into bewilderment. Dammit, why are you so jumpy just pulling out a weapon?
The distance was short enough that everyone saw his comical display. They weren't sure whether to laugh or be insulted.
Yoshida, however, wasn't laughing. His nerves were frayed to the breaking point; the only sound in his ears was the thumping of his own heart, and his breathing had grown heavy and ragged.
The reeds were dense. His teammates couldn't see him, and he couldn't see them.
Suddenly, the brush ahead shook violently again.
Yoshida nearly screamed.
Fortunately, he caught himself. Upon closer inspection, it was merely the den of a wild boar. The movement was just a beast scurrying away.
Yoshida let out a massive sigh of relief. "Captain! It's nothing!" he shouted.
However, the moment his voice fell, the world shifted.
As if manifesting out of thin air, a hand appeared behind him. The middle and index fingers were pressed together, striking a precise point at the base of Yoshida's skull.
And then, Yoshida knew no more.
A silent, high-voltage current instantly incinerated his brain.
With a gentle support of the hand, Yoshida's body slid to the ground without making a sound.
The stranger then unfurled a scroll marked with the character for "Corpse" (尸), sealing Yoshida away in an instant.
"Nothing to report?" the captain asked, looking at the Yoshida who had returned from the scout.
This Yoshida still bore that familiar, cowering demeanor. "Nothing... well, there was a wild boar making a racket."
"Where is it?" someone in the squad asked, clearly hoping to improve their rations, which usually consisted of nothing but bland soldier pills.
"Still there... I—I was afraid the scent of blood would attract enemies if I killed it."
The squad was speechless. Classic Yoshida. They were nearly back in the Land of Earth—Rock territory—where were these "enemies" supposed to come from?
The captain said nothing. He actually agreed with the logic, but his disdain for the man prevented him from offering any praise. A coward like this didn't deserve it.
"Clear the tracks. We're moving out immediately."
"Yes, sir!" the group responded in unison.
Following the captain's orders, the Rock shinobi packed up and departed.
As for "Yoshida," he never looked back at the reeds once.
Beyond that reed-covered slope, did you ever hear of a ninja who once passed through?
The return journey was light, and they moved swiftly.
Throughout the trek, Yoshida remained his usual pathetic self—superstitious and overly cautious. His behavior was perfectly consistent with his reputation, raising not a single eyebrow.
Yoshida was just Yoshida, after all. Who would waste their energy paying close attention to him?
However, as evening approached, he did something uncharacteristically bold: he sought out the captain on his own.
"Captain... I heard this squad is going to be disbanded for other assignments. Is that true?"
The captain shot a sideways glance at the nuisance. He couldn't actually do anything to the man for asking a question.
"Who told you that?"
"I..." Yoshida stammered, falling back into his usual incoherent state.
The captain didn't suspect anything; the rumor was indeed circulating through the ranks.
He knew exactly what the wretch was worried about: the fear that a new assignment would land him back on the front lines. His contempt for Yoshida reached a new peak.
"I haven't received such orders. Don't overthink it; these things are decided by the higher-ups. Neither of us has a say."
He had already made up his mind: if a suicide mission ever came across his desk, he'd give the first slot to Yoshida.
After all, Yoshida was useless to the squad—and to the Hidden Rock as a whole.