At the border of the Land of Fire, along the Rain Country defense line, sat the main camp of the Konoha garrison. Rain pitter-pattered incessantly against the taut leather of a command tent, creating a rhythmic, heavy drumming. Above, the sky was a canvas of dark, swirling clouds, torn apart by flashes of blue lightning and the roar of distant thunder.
Inside the tent, a heavy silence reigned. A group of men sat with their heads in their hands, staring intently at the intelligence reports spread across their tables. Their expressions were grim.
Jiraiya's squad, Minato Namikaze, Shikaku Nara, Mabui Mimura...
These were the elite of the Hidden Leaf—the sharpest minds and the strongest Jonin. Yet at this moment, they looked as though they were facing the end of the world.
"Lord Jiraiya, can you be absolutely certain of this intel's authenticity?"
Shikaku Nara, the military strategist wearing a deerskin vest and his signature pineapple-style hair, frowned. He looked toward the head of the table.
Sitting there was a tall man, nearly 190 centimeters in height. He wore a red vest over his gear and a forehead protector engraved with the kanji for "Oil." Long white hair reached down to his waist, and two red markings extended from his eyes down his cheeks.
This was Jiraiya of the Sannin.
Jiraiya scratched his head in frustration and let out a heavy sigh. "It's confirmed. The Hidden Sand intends to join forces with the Hidden Stone to declare war on the Leaf. Once their envoy to the Land of Earth reaches an agreement with the Third Tsuchikage, Onoki, the deal will be set in stone."
The confirmation hit the room like a physical blow. Shikaku Nara took a deep breath, his voice turning cold as he analyzed the fallout.
"If that's the case, our village will be crushed between the Sand and the Stone on the Rain battlefield. Furthermore, reports from the Land of Rice—the border between Fire and Lightning—are looking bleak. Combine that with the fact that the Mist has ended its war with the Sand... we are looking at a minimum of three fronts: Sand, Stone, and Cloud."
"In the worst-case scenario," Shikaku added, his eyes narrowing, "we will be surrounded on all four sides."
The room flinched. They all remembered the Second Great Ninja War. They remembered how the Land of Rain, in its arrogance, tried to become the sixth great power only to be turned into a sieve because it was attacked from three sides.
The Leaf was stronger than the Rain, but no one could survive a four-way assault of this intensity. The Third Great Ninja War had only been active for three days, and the "fuse" had already ignited a bomb of this magnitude.
The silence was deafening. This war was going to be bloodier than any in history—so bloody that even their children might be pushed onto the front lines.
Mabui Mimura couldn't take it anymore. He stood up abruptly. "Lord Jiraiya! Is there truly no way to stop this from happening?"
Every eye in the room turned toward Jiraiya. Even his disciple, Minato Namikaze, looked over with a searching gaze.
Jiraiya remained silent for a long moment. Then, he raised his head, his eyes burning with resolve as he looked toward the tent's entrance.
"Of course there is! To deal with this situation, the village has dispatched a reliable team. We have drafted a plan: 'The Rain Country Decapitation Strike.'"
"I've called you all here to refine this plan," Jiraiya continued, his gaze hardening. "A Sannin and his disciple will serve as the core executors of this operation. Their target: the envoy sent by the Sand to secure the alliance..."
"The Fourth Kazekage, Rasa!"
The room erupted in a wave of shock. Not just because the Sand was sending their new Kage to ensure the alliance's success, but because of Jiraiya's phrasing.
A Sannin and his disciple?
Everyone immediately looked at Jiraiya and the bewildered Minato Namikaze standing beside him. Minato looked completely lost. He had just retreated from the Stone front with his master; he hadn't received any notice from the village.
Me? I have to assassinate Rasa?
Seeing Minato's "natural airhead" expression, the others in the room shared a knowing smile. They thought he was putting on a very convincing act of ignorance. After all, who else fit the description?
Jiraiya laughed, watching the entrance of the tent. At that exact moment, lightning flashed outside. A pale hand pulled back the curtain.
Draped in a black cloak, Orochimaru stepped into the tent. He pulled back his hood, a raspy, snake-like chuckle echoing through the space.
"What's the matter, Jiraiya? You don't seem surprised to see me."
Back in the Land of Hot Water, Ren Uchiha stared at the scroll in his hand, his mind filled with a thousand questions.
Ryoma Aburame, you bastard!
Giving him such world-shaking intel and then telling him to "get a good night's sleep"? Was he kidding? How was anyone supposed to sleep after reading this?!
Ren leapt out of the pool, threw on his robe, grabbed the scroll, and sprinted toward the sauna. He had to know: Why was he on this mission? Since when was Rasa the Fourth Kazekage? How much would this change the war?
He kicked open the sauna door, shouting at his superior hidden in the thick steam. "Ryoma Aburame! Give me some answers, now!"
Ryoma was already waiting, sitting calmly on a wooden bench. A stack of towels sat neatly in a basin at his feet. Even though his sunglasses were completely fogged over, he tilted his head toward Ren.
"I knew it," Ryoma said quietly. "Uchihas really have no manners."
"Kid, this is the first lesson I'm giving you as your superior. You want answers?"
Ryoma tilted his head, pushing up his fogged glasses with a devious smirk. He picked up a towel from the basin and tossed it at Ren.
"First, fix your attitude and call me by my proper title. Second... you're going to earn those answers through labor."
Ren looked at the white towel in his hand, then at Ryoma—whose body was occasionally traversed by small, crawling insects.
Ren fell into a profound, frustrated silence.