The Fire Nation Border
Raindrops pattered against their hats, each impact dull and heavy. Mud and water slid down the brim and dripped onto their already soaked shoulders.
Orochimaru came to a halt first, followed closely by Hiroki, Kushina, and Nawaki.
Their destination was finally in sight—a small village enclosed by tall wooden walls. The damp, dark-brown wood gleamed under the rain. A crude watchtower stood atop the wall, and several Konoha flags hung limp in the wet air.
This was the border between the Land of Fire and the Land of Rain.
Two Konoha shinobi in rain cloaks guarded the entrance. Their faces were as gray as the weather, dulled by long days spent in endless downpour.
Outpost No. 99 — the last outpost before the border of the Land of Rain.
Beyond this point lay enemy territory.
"Konoha shinobi?" one guard asked, stepping forward. He didn't lower his spear, his eyes sweeping over the group—especially the three children. It was rare for a jonin to bring such young students to the front line.
Orochimaru retrieved a scroll from his cloak and handed it over. "Orochimaru, leading Squad Two. Acting under orders from the Third Hokage."
The guard visibly relaxed at the name. After carefully inspecting the scroll and confirming the Hokage's seal, he stepped aside.
"Understood. Captain Kitagawa is waiting for you at the command post—the building at the back of the village."
His tone was weary, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
The four entered the village.
The dirt road underfoot was thick with mud, sucking at their sandals with every step. Houses on both sides were simple—wood and thatch—tools and herbs hanging under the eaves to dry.
The village was unnervingly quiet. No civilians were visible, only the occasional ninja rushing by beneath the roofs, their expressions flat and wordless. The air smelled of rain, wet earth, and faint herbs.
Nawaki walked in the middle, eyes wide beneath his straw hat, excitement gleaming where fear should have been. "So this is the border? Doesn't look like much," he whispered to Kushina.
She ignored him, pulling her hat lower and shoving her hands into her pockets. The oppressive atmosphere reminded her too much of the Uzumaki homeland—before it fell.
That was why her mother had sent her to the Land of Fire.
Hiroki followed at the rear, his gaze flicking over shuttered windows, sandbags piled under the eaves, and the lifeless eyes of the soldiers.
His hand rested on his tool pouch, never relaxing.
Everyone here did the same—hands loose and ready, always one motion away from drawing a kunai.
This was the front line.
He looked at Nawaki walking ahead, idly kicking a stone through the mud, completely unaware of how close death might be.
Twelve years old.He'll die this year.
But… would it happen here?
Hiroki took a quiet breath, forcing his focus to sharpen. He didn't feel particularly close to Nawaki. Still, if saving him didn't cost anything, he'd do it. But if it endangered him—
Then Nawaki would die alone.
The thought passed through his mind coldly, without emotion.
After all, who could say whether the event that killed Nawaki might not also take Kushina—or himself?
They entered the command post—the only stone building in the entire village.
A damp, musty smell mixed with tobacco hit them as soon as the door opened. The cramped room was dominated by a large map on the wall, covered in colored markings and notes.
A tall, scarred man stood before it. His Konoha flak jacket was worn and faded, a cigarette burning low between his lips.
Captain Kitagawa—the commander of this post.
"Orochimaru," he greeted with a curt nod.
"You arrived just in time," Kitagawa said, tapping the map. "The situation's worse than we thought."
Orochimaru approached the table, the three students close behind.
"Three days ago," Kitagawa said, pointing at a red circle near the border, "our third patrol vanished here. Three members—two chunin, one genin. No bodies. No blood. No signs of a fight."
"Vanished?" Nawaki blurted. "You think the Hidden Rain caught them?"
Kitagawa gave him a brief look but ignored the question. "We checked the site—nothing. It's like they disappeared into thin air. Villagers nearby claimed they saw several Hidden Rain squads moving through the forest, but we don't know how many."
"There've been at least five sightings, but we've found nothing. Even the Hyuga can't monitor every direction at once."
"In total, we've searched over ten times," Kitagawa continued. "Still no trace. This Inuzuka-nin can confirm it." He gestured to a shinobi in the corner.
The man nodded. "No scent trails. The rain washes them away too quickly."
Kushina frowned. "No traces at all? That's impossible. Even if they were ambushed instantly, something should've been left behind."
"You're right," Kitagawa said, stubbing out his cigarette. "But this is the second patrol to vanish this month. Same pattern. Same result."
"I'm the only elite jonin stationed here. I could fight whoever's doing this, but I can't stray far—if I leave the outpost unguarded, it could be wiped out before reinforcements arrive."
"We tried contacting nearby outposts—same story. Seven have been attacked. All identical disappearances."
"This is everything we know so far."
Hiroki said nothing. He couldn't sense any of the usual ANBU presence—no signals, no surveillance. The outpost felt… hollow.
"Any other unusual activity?" Orochimaru asked.
"Yes," Kitagawa replied grimly. "Hidden Rain movements along the border have increased—larger squads, more frequent sightings. They never cross over, but they stay just close enough, like they're testing us. Or looking for something."
He handed Orochimaru a report. "This is the past week's intel."
Orochimaru skimmed through it, then set it aside. The summaries told him all he needed to know.
He thought quietly for a moment, then turned toward his students.
"Hiroki, Kushina, Nawaki," he said. His voice was calm, sharp. "You'll remain here at the outpost."
All three froze.
Orochimaru stood by the map, lamplight casting a shadow across his pale face. His golden eyes gleamed like those of a serpent.
"This mission is uncertain," he continued. "I can't guarantee your safety. Stay here, do not leave the post."
He paused, gaze sweeping over them one by one.
"Your mission is to protect yourselves."
Meanwhile, across the border in the Land of Rain, inside a silent, abandoned village—
Four teams of enemy shinobi huddled around another map.
"How many patrols have we taken out?" the scarred leader asked. "Why are the Konoha dogs still patrolling so seriously?"
"Three," a thin man replied with a smirk. "Guess they're just dedicated. Konoha pays well, after all."
The leader snorted. "If they paid me that much, I wouldn't have gone rogue." He paused, then added, "Our employer isn't double-crossing us, right?"
"Unlikely. The target just entered the outpost—exactly as planned."
"Oh? So he's inside? Then, as our employer said, he'll feed Orochimaru false intel to lure him away?"
"Exactly. There's also a spy inside the outpost. Once we destroy the gate, the spy will move. The jonin inside won't even have time to react."
"Then it's settled." The scarred man's tone hardened. "Monkey—you're in charge of assassination."
"Understood."
"Black Bear, Rattlesnake—you'll handle the diversion."
"Got it."
"If anything goes wrong, fall back immediately when you hear my signal," he ordered.
He turned toward the ground, kneeling. "I'll clear out the ninjas near the outpost. Rattlesnake—keep your chakra hidden. The Hyuga could spot us at any time."
"But—"
"No buts. Trust my sensing."
He pressed a palm to the wet earth, the other hand clutching his head as his chakra spread like ripples through the rain-soaked ground.
"Start preparing. I'll find our targets."
Ding Dong~
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