The Uchiha clan currently had two elders: Uchiha Yasunari and Uchiha Narisawa. Both were elite jonin in their early fifties, each with a fully matured three-tomoe Sharingan.
Thankfully, the two elders weren't calling because of any trouble. They had simply heard that he had been accepted as a disciple by Orochimaru and Minato, and had summoned him to offer encouragement.
Ten minutes later, after exchanging polite words, Gen and his companion took their leave and headed for dinner.
On the battlefield, 'Soldier Pills' emergency rations were a last resort—most of the time, ninjas still ate normal food: rice balls as the main staple, with vegetables and meat as side dishes.
The taste, however, left much to be desired. This was war, after all, not a leisurely meal in peacetime, Konoha was certainly not Italy during World War II.
After eating, the two parted ways. Gen washed up, returned to his tent, and lay down. A day of high-intensity travel had left him exhausted.
It was worth noting that their tents wasn't in the Uchiha area, but pitched next to those of Orochimaru and Minato.
By the next morning, after a night's rest, the newly arrived Konoha ninjas were refreshed and full of energy.
After breakfast, Gen received a summons to Orochimaru's tent.
As deputy commander, Orochimaru's tent was second only to Tsunade's in size—not luxurious, but larger, taller, and wider than the standard issue.
"Orochimaru-sensei, you called for me?"
Gen stepped inside and gave a small bow.
"Mm. Sit."
Orochimaru didn't even glance up from his breakfast. His voice was low and hoarse, one pale finger gesturing casually toward a chair.
Gen took a seat across from him.
"Want something to eat?"
"I've already eaten."
"Good. I called you here because you'll be leading a squad from now on. You're a jonin... this should've happened a long time ago."
"…Can I not?" Gen asked bluntly.
Orochimaru's golden eyes lifted slightly. "Reason."
"If I move alone, I can be flexible. A team… sometimes they're just dead weight."
He smirked faintly and added. "Have you heard the saying, 'I'm not afraid of godlike enemies, but I fear piglike teammates'?"
Truthfully, he just wanted more freedom to harvest enemy souls.
"Heh… I can't say I have."
"There's a flaw in your thinking, kid. Don't say that sort of thing around others."
Ninja missions might put the objective first, but treating teammates as burdens would stir resentment fast.
"I know. I wouldn't say it to anyone else."
"Then?"
"Orochimaru-sensei… is it possible?"
"No," Orochimaru replied. "Because they're not your teammates—they're your subordinates."
"Ah… I see. That's a big difference," Gen said, voice laced with mock realization.
He wasn't exactly subtle about the sarcasm, but Orochimaru didn't take offense.
In truth, the sannin's tolerance was broad, if you were a genius or useful to him, he let a lot slide.
"If I were commander, I'd grant your request. But I'm only the deputy. Tsunade, Jiraiya, Minato… each of them values teamwork above all else. I'm the exception so you won't get approval easily."
"…Alright, you've convinced me."
"Still," Orochimaru said, setting down his chopsticks, "I do have some authority."
His right arm shot out like a striking snake, plucking a scroll from the table and tossing it across to Gen.
"This is the list of chunin reinforcements Konoha is sending to the front. Pick three of your choice. I'll handle the rest."
Leaning against a big-tree for shade really did have its perks.
Minato would never abuse authority like this, but Orochimaru… well, in research, overreporting budgets was practically tradition.
"That's awesome Orochimaru-sensei!"
Awesome? Orochimaru considered the word and decided it was just another of his apprentice's strange phrases.
Gen unrolled the scroll and scanned the names, quickly selecting three. He walked over to the desk, marked them neatly with a pen, and handed it back.
"Hmm… a good spread—three chunin, male and female, with specialties in ninjutsu, genjutsu, and taijutsu. Strong reconnaissance skills too. You've got a good eye."
"Of course. I'm your disciple; how could my taste be poor?"
"Heh… getting cheekier by the day."
"That's what happens when you have a good teacher."
Orochimaru, "…"
The brat never stopped with the nonsense but somehow, it wasn't unpleasant.
"Alright. Someone will report to you this afternoon."
"One more thing," Gen said.
"Speak."
"Are we attacking today?"
"No. Hidden-Mist shifted their formations overnight. The reconnaissance teams need to map it out first. If all goes well, we'll strike tomorrow. If not, the day after—or later."
"Morale needs a solid win sooner rather than later. Ours is running a bit thin."
Gen nodded. The frontline leaders still had clear heads.
"This is classified," Orochimaru warned. "Don't repeat it."
"Don't worry, sensei. I'm a jonin, not an idiot."
With a faint smile, Orochimaru waved him off.
"Oh... how's your snake ninjutsu?"
"I've learned the Shadow Snake Hand."
Ten days for a snake-style technique—passable.
"And the Bringer-of-Darkness Technique?"
"I mastered that a while ago."
Combined with Dust Concealment, it would blunt the Mist's advantage and even turn it against them. A perfect opportunity for his disciple to shine.
Orochimaru returned to his meal. Taste didn't matter—what mattered was keeping his energy up.
Gen, meanwhile, went back to his tent. He studied chakra nature transformations and ninjutsu variations, while Shuryu and Shizukamaru rested nearby.
By two in the afternoon, he'd finished lunch and was enjoying a nap. Shuryu and Shizukamaru lay quietly on either side of him, also dozing.
"Captain! Hyuga Tokuma, Shirakuni Asa, and Yuhi Kurenai reporting!" came the voice outside.
Yes... these were the three chunin he'd chosen. All future jonin, and recently promoted.
Kurenai, Gen, and Obito were all born in Konoha Calendar Year 36—one year older than Kakashi. Thirteen years old now.
At the sound, Shuryu leapt into the air and melded into Gen's left arm, while Shizukamaru slipped into its scabbard in a flash.
Gen stretched, sat up, and called out, "Got it. I'll be right there."
It wasn't arrogance keeping him from inviting them in, the tent simply wasn't large enough for four people. Outside of the top brass, most ninja tents were nearly identical.
Outside stood three figures, and the most striking by far was Yuhi Kurenai.
Female ninjas were rare enough, beautiful ones even rarer.
Kurenai's face was delicate and fair, yet framed by an air of heroism. Her thick black hair fell past her shoulders, her forehead protector gleamed, and her long legs, shown off by blue shorts and mesh stockings, drew the eye. Mesh covered her arms and collarbone as well, hinting at the lithe strength beneath.
At the moment, her brilliant crimson eyes seemed distant, unfocused.
Didn't her father say she'd be following him?
So why was she suddenly assigned under her old classmate?
It feels… awkward.