"Now?"
"Yeah." Shizune nodded. "Minato-sama and Captain Kakashi and the others are already there."
Kiyohara replied, "I'm coming."
Then he set off through the snowy forest with Shizune.
The snow was thick. With every step, fresh footprints stamped into the white.
Shizune noticed her own prints varied in depth.
Kiyohara's, on the other hand, were light and even.
He was taller than her—by all logic, he should weigh more. Yet his footprints were shallower.
Has his Body Flicker reached that level…? Shizune thought.
"Body Flicker," at its core, was using chakra to boost speed—especially through the legs. To use a truly high-level Body Flicker, you needed excellent coordination and precise chakra control.
Kiyohara likely excelled at both.
"What is it?" Kiyohara glanced back at her.
"N-nothing." Shizune shook her head.
When the front suddenly called an emergency meeting, it usually meant only two possibilities: either Kumo had made a major move, or something had gone wrong behind Konoha's lines.
…
When Kiyohara arrived, a crowd had already gathered outside Tsunade's tent.
He also saw many Hyūga shinobi standing there. One young kunoichi with delicate features and black hair caught his eye.
He recognized her—Hyūga Ginka.
And when Ginka's pale eyes fell on Kiyohara, her pupils tightened slightly.
She clearly knew now: Kiyohara had Uchiha blood, and a Magnet Release bloodline limit. He wasn't the "pure civilian" she'd once assumed.
Not to mention—his achievements were already famous across Konoha's front: solo-killing a member of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen, and Kumogakure's Magnet Release jōnin Toroi…
Ginka pressed her lips together. The chin she'd once held slightly high lowered without her noticing.
She averted her gaze, no longer meeting his eyes.
"You're not going in?" Kiyohara asked casually.
"…Not qualified yet," Ginka answered.
She might be main house, but outside the Hyūga clan she held no official position—so she had no standing to join whatever was being discussed inside.
Kiyohara nodded and lifted the tent flap, stepping in.
He didn't think much of it.
War changed everything—relationships included. Ginka's shift in attitude was just one tiny ripple in a vast tide.
After he passed, Ginka stared at his back, biting her lip faintly.
A few months ago, the Kiyohara she'd looked down on had been an ordinary civilian ninja. Now he was loaded with merit—and held two bloodline limits.
To put it bluntly: in strength and in pedigree, he seemed superior to her.
Two bloodlines. And the Uchiha were Konoha's largest clan.
The Hyūga only called themselves a "great clan" when the Uchiha weren't in the picture.
"This is… surreal," Ginka murmured, shaking her head.
…
Inside the tent, the most eye-catching presence was Orochimaru.
A faint, unreadable smile rested on his pale face as he leaned against a support pole, arms folded, looking utterly unfazed by the tense atmosphere.
When Kiyohara entered, Orochimaru's gaze slid over immediately.
Orochimaru obviously knew Kiyohara had become Tsunade's student.
"Orochimaru-sama," Kiyohara greeted.
He couldn't help feeling like he'd "stolen" Orochimaru's prize—he'd started as Orochimaru's assistant, and now he was Tsunade's student.
"Heh-heh… Kiyohara-kun. Long time no see." Orochimaru smiled.
"I heard you've made even more progress lately. I'm looking forward to seeing your performance on the battlefield."
Those golden slit pupils lingered on him—not like he was looking at a person, but like he was admiring artwork.
A… collectible rarity.
"By the way," Orochimaru continued, "are you settling in at Tsunade's place?"
"My teacher treats me well," Kiyohara said.
"Good." Orochimaru flicked his eyes toward Tsunade.
Tsunade's brow lifted. "Orochimaru. What are you implying?"
"Oh, nothing," Orochimaru replied smoothly. "Just thought you might drag Kiyohara-kun to gamble with you."
He knew Shizune often got hauled to the casino and used as Tsunade's errand-runner.
"Ahem. Am I that kind of person?" Tsunade coughed strategically and changed the subject.
She pointed at the map spread open before them—a detailed topographic chart of the Land of Iron border, with several locations marked in red.
"Let's get started."
Minato nodded and pointed.
"The Seventh outpost to the northeast has fallen. Twelve defenders—all killed. Kumo's vanguard is pushing toward our Third supply point. If that falls, our eastern line will open up."
Hiashi Hyūga was present as well. He stepped forward.
"Correct. Hizashi detected Kumo movement. Both Jinchūriki are active—moving."
Half a step behind Hiashi stood a man who looked almost identical: his twin brother, Hyūga Hizashi.
As the branch family's representative, his forehead protector conveniently covered the mark of bondage—the Caged Bird Seal.
Orochimaru spoke up, voice low and rough:
"This offensive is unusually sudden. Intelligence says the Fourth Raikage is still in the rear main camp, with Dodai commanding the front… but the scale and speed of this strike don't feel like Dodai's work."
"You mean…?" Hiashi turned toward Orochimaru.
"The Raikage may have secretly arrived at the front."
The tent's atmosphere instantly grew heavier.
A, the Fourth Raikage, was a monster who could contend with Minato in speed.
His presence would mean a full escalation.
"So we need to act in the next few days—set the board before they do," Minato said, pointing at a spot on the map.
"Five kilometers southeast of the Third supply point, there's a canyon—sheer cliffs on both sides, narrow passage in the middle. A perfect ambush site. If we strike while Kumo passes through, we can maximize terrain advantage."
Minato looked around the tent.
"Orochimaru-sama, Hiashi-sama—you'll lead two elite squads ahead. Hizashi-sama, cover the flank. Kiyohara…"
Minato's gaze settled on him.
Among everyone present, only Minato and Kiyohara filled the same role archetype: high-mobility, flicker-type operators. And Kiyohara also had medical capability.
"You and your squad will be mobile support. You'll fill gaps wherever our combat power breaks."
"Understood." Kiyohara nodded.
The meeting ended quickly. The operation was set for the day after tomorrow.
Everyone dispersed to prepare. Night had fully fallen; torches and oil lamps lit the camp, casting wavering shadows across the snow.
…
Two days until departure.
Seven days until the next "Willbook."
Kiyohara didn't rest.
Instead, he found Kurenai and Rin and asked them to help him train.
They chose a spot at the edge of camp in the snowy woods—away from the main camp's noise. Only wind-shaken snow slipping from treetops, and the occasional cry of a messenger hawk, broke the quiet.
They reached a relatively open clearing.
Kiyohara pulled out more than a dozen small mechanical devices—triggered projectile launchers he'd modified himself using puppet-tech principles.
Sasori really did contribute a lot to my development, he thought.
He placed them around the clearing—on trees, behind rocks, even buried in the snow.
After finishing setup, he explained to Kurenai and Rin how to trigger the mechanisms.
Then Kiyohara returned to the center and took out a black cloth blindfold.
It was special training gear: the inner lining had a coating that absorbed light, making it truly pitch-black once tied.
He wrapped it over his eyes and knotted it behind his head.
The world went dark.
But the loss of vision sharpened everything else.
His skin sensed tiny shifts in airflow. His nose caught the crisp scent of pine needles in the cold. His ears picked up the faint rhythm of Kurenai and Rin's breathing.
"We can start," Kiyohara said.
"O-okay… I'm starting," Kurenai murmured, lips parting slightly.
She pressed one trigger.
Rin pressed another.
All around the clearing, the mechanisms fired at once!
Click! Click! Click! Click!
The spring-loaded snaps came like rain. Over a hundred shuriken shot in from every direction toward Kiyohara at the center.
Some flew straight for vital points. Some arced. Some ricocheted off tree trunks to change angle.
Some even collided midair, creating unpredictable deflections.
Each shuriken flashed coldly under the moonlight.
This was Kiyohara's custom training: without sight, rely on hearing and touch alone to evade dense ranged attacks.
The goal was to improve responses to area attacks and hidden projectiles.
On a real battlefield, no one offered fair duels.
Traps, ambushes, gang-ups, surprise strikes—those were the norm.
Kiyohara remembered clearly: in canon, many powerful shinobi didn't die in front-facing fights. They died to cheap, unnoticed tricks.
And plenty of "big names" got ambushed:
Madara got stabbed through the chest (first by Hashirama, later by Black Zetsu).
Kaguya got sneak-attacked from above.
Pakura was killed from behind.
Rasa was assassinated by Orochimaru.
Shisui got jumped by Danzō and lost a Mangekyō.
Konan was impaled from behind by Obito.
So Kiyohara had to erase blind spots.
Sharingan didn't give 360-degree vision—so he'd train what Sharingan couldn't see.
The first wave was already on him.
Kiyohara moved.
Head tilts left—dodging a shuriken aimed at the temple.
Right shoulder drops—another skims past his collarbone.
His waist twists right as he hops—avoiding three rising shots from below.
But that was only the beginning.
A second wave followed immediately.
Kiyohara's hands dipped into his ninja pouch; eight shuriken were already slotted between his fingers.
A flick of the wrist—eight shuriken shot out in eight directions.
Not at the incoming shuriken, but at the intersections where their paths would cross.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Metal-on-metal rang out sharp in the snow.
One deflected shuriken struck another. That one struck a third.
A chain reaction started—like dominoes falling.
Dozens upon dozens veered off-course, slanting into snowbanks, tree trunks, and rocks.
In the end, a neat ring of embedded shuriken formed around the clearing.
"Impressive."
A hoarse voice drifted from the shadows of the woods.
Kiyohara reached up and pulled off the blindfold.
He turned toward the voice.
Orochimaru stood there—moonlight filtering through branches, painting pale stripes across his white face.
"Orochimaru-sama," Kiyohara said.
Kurenai and Rin, startled to see him, hurried out as well, greeting him and staying behind Kiyohara.
Kurenai stole a glance at Kiyohara.
The Sannin were legends most shinobi never even saw—yet Kiyohara was Tsunade's student and Orochimaru's assistant.
Rin, meanwhile, looked confused, unsure how long Orochimaru had been watching.
Orochimaru walked closer, his eyes sliding from Kiyohara's eyes to where he'd stood, then to the ring of shuriken, then back to Kiyohara's face.
"Blindfolded, evading over a hundred shuriken from every angle… Kiyohara-kun, do you realize how dangerous that was?"
"If even one hit something vital, even Tsunade might not save you in time. Training matters—but recklessly gambling your life isn't what a rational person does."
His tone carried a trace of reprimand—but even more curiosity.
Kiyohara calmly collected his shuriken.
"Orochimaru-sama, I don't do things without confidence."
Beneath his clothes, he'd already layered Steel Release as insurance.
He wasn't about to just tank shuriken with his body. Orochimaru simply couldn't see that—he lacked chakra-flow vision.
"Confidence…" Orochimaru smiled.
When he learned Kiyohara had Uchiha blood, he'd been shocked.
They'd worked together for so long, and Orochimaru hadn't sensed anything off.
Now, perhaps Kiyohara's unflinching, neither-subservient-nor-arrogant demeanor… really did come from Uchiha bones.
"Two-tomoe Sharingan… Your growth rate is truly astonishing."
"Just luck," Kiyohara said.
"Luck?" Orochimaru's smile deepened.
"No. That isn't luck. It's talent. It's aptitude. It's… beautiful potential."
So beautiful.
Body and mind alike.
A pity he wasn't Orochimaru's student.
Though if he were, certain things would become inconvenient.
Orochimaru's wording made Kiyohara's brow tighten slightly.
Beautiful. Coming from Orochimaru, it always sounded wrong.
Kiyohara remembered: Orochimaru had used that same word the first time he watched Itachi training.
Back then, he'd already started thinking obsessively about the importance of a body.
Has he already mastered the Living Corpse Reincarnation? Kiyohara wondered.
If so, Kiyohara needed to protect himself even more.
Orochimaru's fixation on Uchiha—and on bodies—was crystal clear in canon.
If he'd just killed Sasuke instead of planning to raise him and steal him, the entire story might've ended early.
Orochimaru either didn't notice Kiyohara's tension—or didn't care.
He continued examining Kiyohara like a collector appraising a rare artifact, gaze sliding from hair to face, shoulder to fingers.
"Magnet Release bloodline… Sharingan bloodline…"
"A normal shinobi with one bloodline limit is already rare. You have two. And you haven't developed 'bloodline sickness'…"
His voice dropped lower, heavier, warmed by something close to obsession.
"Such a body. Such potential. Such… beauty."
That last word came out like a sigh.
Kiyohara felt cold creep up his spine.
Orochimaru was interested in him now.
Not "teacher interested in a student," not "senior interested in a junior."
This was a researcher eyeing experimental material… a collector eyeing a trophy.
"Orochimaru-sama," Kiyohara said, cutting in before the thought went further, "it's getting late. I still need to prepare for tonight's operation."
Orochimaru paused, then returned to his usual smile.
"Ah. You're right. The mission comes first."
He turned to leave—but before stepping away, he glanced back once more.
"Kiyohara-kun. Take good care of yourself. Your life… has value."
Then his body sank into the ground like melting into shadow, vanishing without a trace.
Kiyohara stood still, eyes narrowing at the spot where Orochimaru disappeared.
After the war would come the Hokage selection… and then Orochimaru's defection.
He was getting closer and closer to darkness.
…
Soon, the day of departure arrived.
Five days remained until the next "Willbook."
At Konoha's eastern assembly zone in the camp, over forty shinobi had gathered, lined up neatly by squad.
Everyone wore black combat gear with white snow-camouflage cloaks. Ninja pouches and weapons had been checked to ensure nothing would fail in the freezing cold.
Orochimaru and Hiashi Hyūga stood at the very front.
Orochimaru wore a white fur-collared cloak. Hiashi was fully equipped, even carrying a sealing scroll on his back.
Hizashi stood beside his brother, scanning the line—his gaze lingering a little longer on the younger faces.
As a branch-family man, he understood war's cruelty better than anyone—and wanted these kids to come back alive.
Hyūga Ginka stood half a step behind Hiashi.
She wore fitted white combat clothing beneath her camouflage cloak, her long hair tied into a clean ponytail.
Her eyes drifted toward Kiyohara's position once… then quickly away.
Kiyohara's squad waited on the left flank.
"You brat—be careful out there," Tsunade said.
She wasn't going on this mission; she'd come to send Kiyohara off.
"I know, Sensei." Kiyohara nodded.
"Good." Tsunade stretched lazily.
Her tight shinobi pants wrapped her long legs in smooth curves, but the most eye-catching part was the prominent outline above her green vest.
Kiyohara noticed: she was the only one not wearing a cold-weather cloak.
Was Tsunade that resistant to cold… or just well insulated?
Kiyohara could only conclude that the "padding" around her chest area was, indeed, substantial.
"Tsunade-sama, aren't you cold?" Kurenai asked curiously.
"Nope." Tsunade shook her head. "Are you cold?"
Kurenai blinked, then shook her head hard.
"N-not at all!"
Rin laughed softly beside her.
"Kurenai… your hands are shaking."
"T-that's just because it's freezing!" Kurenai waved her arms quickly.
Their little exchange helped cut through the heaviness.
"All right. Good luck," Tsunade said, stuffing a pouch of pills into Kiyohara's hand before stepping back.
Kiyohara glanced at them—special-made.
Probably not as tasty as his own, but more efficient for chakra recovery.
"Thanks, Sensei." Kiyohara nodded.
Their brief moment ended as Orochimaru's voice cut in.
"Move out."
The order snapped through the line. The team set off.
They moved fast over the snow, nearly silent.
The white camouflage cloaks blended perfectly into the night—unless you were looking carefully, you'd never notice forty-plus shinobi cutting through the snow forest.
Kiyohara's squad handled flank surveillance.
They split from the main group and took a more concealed route, tasked with monitoring for Kumo scouts and striking from the side once combat began.
The snow intensified.
Fine icy grains stung their faces.
Visibility dropped—past ten meters, the world blurred.
For vision-dependent shinobi, it was bad news.
For Sharingan and Byakugan users, it mattered less.
"Stop."
After about half an hour, Kiyohara raised a hand.
The squad halted instantly. Kakashi silently leapt into a snow-laden pine, vanishing into thick branches.
Rin and Kurenai stood back-to-back, scanning the foggy woods.
Kiyohara crouched and touched the snow.
"Someone passed here. Less than twenty minutes ago," he said quietly.
Kakashi dropped down beside him.
"How many?"
"Three. Likely a Kumo scout team. They were careful—used concealment techniques—but the snow's too fresh. It still leaves traces."
Kiyohara stood, staring along the trail.
It led toward a narrow path into the canyon—exactly the route Kumo scouts would choose.
"Intercept?" Kurenai asked.
Kiyohara thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"No. Let them pass. If we intercept now, we'll spook them. Our job is to watch and restrain, not wipe out scouts."
He looked to Kakashi.
"Kakashi—keep scouting forward along this route. Maintain a safe distance. Kurenai, Rin—you two come with me. We'll circle to the side."
"Circle to the side?" Rin asked, confused.
Kiyohara's lips curved slightly.
"If Kumo sent scouts, it means they're cautious too. We can… feed them some wrong information."
And he also wanted to see if he could "borrow" more of Kumo's Lightning Release techniques.
If he could steal even part of the Lightning Release Chakra Mode, his speed would jump again.
That mode could also strengthen the body—boosting physical energy so it fused better with his growing mental energy.
Which would accelerate chakra growth dramatically.
…
Meanwhile, the main force led by Orochimaru and Hiashi had already taken position.
The canyon walls on both sides were nearly vertical, soaring more than a hundred meters. Bare rock dominated, with only a few hardy shrubs clinging to cracks.
The canyon floor was about thirty meters wide, strewn with stones and hard ice that never melted. A frozen creek snaked through the center.
A perfect kill zone.
Twenty shinobi hid along the cliffs, using stone and shrubs as cover, fully merged with the terrain.
Another twenty lay in wait near the canyon exits, ready to seal off retreat once the enemy entered.
Hiashi stood on a rocky ledge midway through, Byakugan active.
His sight pierced rock and snowfall, locking onto Kumo units kilometers away.
"Sixty-four," he reported softly.
"Four more than expected. Jōnin count… ten."
"Ten?" Orochimaru lifted a brow. "So the intel was off."
"Or they received last-minute reinforcements," Hiashi said grimly.
Jōnin ranged wildly in strength—some barely cleared the threshold, others were elite.
The ones in his sightline were unmistakably elite.
"Three of them have enormous chakra reserves. Not ordinary jōnin. And one…" Hiashi hesitated.
"The texture and color of their chakra is unusual. It looks like…"
He swallowed.
"…Like a tailed beast."
~~~
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