Ueno Hayato took the mission scroll, gave it a cursory glance, and tucked it away. It was another mission that was as uninspired as it was dangerous.
Around the mission desk, the shinobi coming and going were almost exclusively Chunin, most of them wearing the same hollow, dead-eyed expression. For months now, the mission objectives given to squad captains had been identical: reconnaissance toward the Land of Rain. These missions had two possible ends: return with vital intelligence, or return with over fifty percent casualties.
In the eyes of the brass, fifty percent casualties was intelligence. It was a brutally effective way to map out enemy troop distributions, though it was hell on the shinobi being used as sensors.
Lord Danzo, the newly appointed commander of the Konoha forces, didn't care. He was a man who pursued results with blunt directness. If too many shinobi were being sacrificed, well, that was a problem for the Hokage to worry about.
When Ueno Hayato returned to the campsite, he found his sole remaining subordinate boiling fish soup. The broth had turned a milky white, with red and green garnishes tumbling in the bubbles, releasing a rich, savory aroma.
Inhaling the scent, Ueno felt his mood lift slightly. He sat down by the campfire to wait for the meal to finish.
The soup was fresh and slightly spicy, the tender fish melting on the tongue. He broke up some dry flatbread, soaked it in the broth, and wolfed down a large bowl while it was still steaming. A surge of genuine happiness radiated from his chest, making his previous worries seem distant. When your mood is good, your appetite follows; he promptly went in for a second bowl. There was a massive pot of it, after all—enough to feed four people comfortably.
Tetsumaru smiled as he watched his captain eat with such gusto, then continued enjoying his own meal.
Ever since Danzo took command, he had ordered a relentless counter-offensive, constantly sending squads on "aggressive reconnaissance" missions. Tetsumaru privately dubbed them "No-Brain Meat-Grinder" missions.
From a strategic perspective, Konoha was effectively trading lives to whittle down Suna's active forces. Relying on their superior reinforcements and medical system, Konoha had managed to flip the power dynamic. The strategy was technically working.
From the perspective of a low-level squad, however, it was a nightmare. Everyone felt like they were only one or two missions away from a body bag. Morale among the rank-and-file was plummeting.
War, ultimately, is fought by people. When the base-level shinobi lose heart and harbor resentment toward their commander, it begins to rot the efficiency of every operation. Even as Konoha's numerical advantage grew on paper, their performance on the battlefield became increasingly sluggish. Danzo responded with iron-fisted discipline, forcing squads into compliance, but that only made matters worse. Morale continued to sink by the day.
In Tetsumaru's eyes, while it seemed no one in the current shinobi world truly understood how to conduct large-scale warfare, Danzo's performance was uniquely atrocious.
It wasn't entirely surprising. During the era of the Samurai, wars were small-scale affairs where a single legendary general could conquer a nation. After shinobi supplanted samurai, warfare fractured further into clan-on-clan skirmishes, where individual martial prowess mattered even more.
In the Warring States Period, a "war" involved maybe a hundred shinobi. There was no need for strategic planning or operational command. Logistics, formations, and grand strategy meant nothing when an enemy Jonin could wipe out ten Chunin and Genin with a single Fire Style jutsu.
It wasn't until the First Great Ninja War and the dawn of the One Village per Country system that the five Great Nations could organize tens of thousands of shinobi. The scale became unprecedented, with thousands of ninja deployed on a single front.
With a battlefield spanning a thousand kilometers in width and five hundred in depth, a single Jonin became a speck in the grand scheme of things. They could no longer carry the entire war on their backs, and that was when small-squad tactics finally gained practical value.
In an era of such rapid change, there are those who adapt and those who cling to the past. Shimura Danzo was a staunch traditionalist.
Based on public intelligence, Tetsumaru analyzed that the last two months of attrition had fundamentally changed the status quo. Suna had transitioned to an elastic defense, specifically designed to trap and slaughter the Konoha squads that came charging in blindly.
The Konoha squads would limp back with heavy casualties and report the situation, yet the commander seemed blind to the pattern, refusing to alter his tactics. It was as if Danzo had a personal vendetta against his own men.
Since Tetsumaru arrived with the first wave of reinforcements, Konoha had been funneling three to four waves of ninja into the Rain front every month—fresh graduates and recovered veterans alike. The total surge was upwards of six thousand people.
Konoha's replenishment rate was faster, but after breaking Suna's initial momentum, the front had stalled for two months with no change.
The problem lay with Danzo. His gaze never reached the front lines. Management of the squads was in shambles; human resources were being misallocated, and the combat effectiveness of the rank-and-file was being sacrificed for a hollow "big picture."
The Konoha Shinobi Army—a force comprised of elite special-ops-tier individuals—was currently fighting a war with the sophistication of a tribal skirmish, dragging Suna down into the mud with them.
The sentiment that squad-level combat power was on the brink of collapse wasn't just Tetsumaru's private observation; it was the consensus among every low-level commander on the front.
Squad Ueno had recently lost two members in one go, and the replacements they received were of poor quality and easily lost. Over the last several weeks, they had burned through seven more Genin.
On paper, Squad Ueno was unstable and lacked growth. In reality, one particular member's strength had skyrocketed, placing them far outside the bounds of a "normal" squad.
In every engagement, Tetsumaru always detected the enemy first. He always secured the ambush. When things went south and they were forced to retreat, Tetsumaru always held the line, covering the squad's escape. Not a single Chunin had been able to break through his interference.
All of this was kept secret through a silent understanding between Tetsumaru and his captain. Ueno Hayato wasn't a fool; he knew that in Danzo's meat-grinder, he wouldn't survive a single month without a subordinate this powerful backing him up.
Naturally, the Captain "omitted" certain details in his reports. If he didn't, Tetsumaru would be promoted to Chunin and given his own squad to lead, and Ueno's survival rate in next month's missions would drop to less than one percent.
After eating their fill, the two retired to rest.
Tetsumaru focused intently on a pair of beakers. The glass containers levitated in the air, tilting to pour water back and forth, each time precisely transferring exactly half the volume.
He didn't use his hands. Three Summoning Silks propped up the bottom of each beaker, controlling their posture through minute movements of the three contact points.
This was the third stage of Tetsumaru's Summoning Silk training, designed to push his control precision to the limit.
The first stage involved extending the silk's range. He used Kikaichu to drag the lines around massive trees, maintaining the connection while pushing the distance out to three kilometers. In truth, range training was infinite; it simply depended on how much control one could maintain.
The second stage was about general manipulation—using the silks to pick up various objects until they could effectively replace his hands in daily life.
The third stage was "terminal control." His goal was to be able to release a thousand insects and link with all of them instantaneously.
As Tetsumaru practiced, the tent flap lifted. A tall figure entered, silhouetted against the sunlight.
"Long time no see, Shige-niisan," Tetsumaru said, his voice calm as he continued his exercise. He wasn't surprised; Shige had sent word a few days ago, and his lack of stealth meant the Kikaichu had picked him up long ago.
Aburame Shige watched the training with interest for a moment before shaking his head.
"I don't think anyone else in the clan could pull off that kind of practice," Shige remarked. As the top prospect of the younger generation, he was well aware that Tetsumaru was using the silks to bypass the limits of traditional insect control.
Shige's primary reason for visiting was to deliver a shipment: four massive wooden crates.
Tetsumaru beamed as he opened them. They were packed with insects, eggs, pupae, and a significant amount of cultivation reagents. He began sorting and storing them, quickly filling his tent to the brim.
His reserves were finally replenished. Only a few types of insects could be cultivated directly on the front lines; most required the specialized environment of the clan's compounds.
The two cousins chatted as they worked. they discussed the brothers they were close with—Shibi, Shishin, Fujikado, Shiraki, and Eiji—and briefly mentioned the news of the difficult Shijie brothers.
As a Jonin and the "big brother" figure of this generation, Shige's intel was far superior to Tetsumaru's.
Shibi and Shishin had both graduated early and were currently with the Clan Head on the Land of Water front; word was they were both close to Chunin promotion. Fujikado was in the Land of Rivers, while Eiji was back in Konoha recovering from injuries. Both were still Genin.
The tragedy was Shiraki, who had fallen in the Land of Grass.
The mood dipped at the mention of the fallen, but only briefly. In wartime, death becomes a numbing constant.
With the crates unpacked and the news exchanged, Shige prepared to leave. Tetsumaru offered to walk him out, and the two brothers walked side by side.
Both wore the iconic high-collared Aburame trench coats and dark sunglasses. They were nearly the same height and walked in total silence. Because of the clan's natural "low presence," several shinobi on the road nearly walked right into them before realizing they were there, jumping back in surprise.
They walked until they were clear of the camp and in a secluded area.
"Tetsumaru, I'm sorry about the situation you're in. You've been wronged."
"Eh, it's nothing. Honestly, I'm not in any rush to be promoted."
Konoha Genin—now that was a title with weight.
What was a Konoha Chunin? Fodder among fodder. When you died, you didn't even get a last line of dialogue; you might not even get a clear shot of your face.
Tetsumaru knew his captain was hiding his results, but his mission record was still plain to see: he had successfully completed 21 C-rank, 14 B-rank, and most importantly, 2 A-rank missions. He had cleared the bar for Chunin promotion a long time ago.
He knew someone was blocking him. And the only person with the power, the lack of shame, and the motive to do such a thing here on the Rain front was Shimura Danzo.
What Tetsumaru couldn't figure out was: Why?
Danzo was a busy man, despite his eccentricities. To go through the trouble of stifling a random Genin suggested a motive that went beyond a personal grudge. If it wasn't about him, it had to be about the clan.
Today, Shige provided the answer. It was part of a larger campaign to suppress the Aburame Clan.
"Brother, what is Lord Danzo trying to do? And why is the clan pushing back so hard?"
The Aburame were stalwarts of the Hokage faction, but their nature was stoic and withdrawn; they weren't "crony" close to Hiruzen Sarutobi. Many in the clan actually admired Danzo's "Iron and Blood" philosophy. Combined with the fact that the clan was relatively poor and Root was exceptionally well-funded, the two had become deeply entwined.
The Aburame had been instrumental in the founding of Root. Many elites had joined the organization, giving the clan a level of influence within the department second only to the Yamanaka.
Frankly, Tetsumaru couldn't see a reason for the clan to clash with the commander of Root. Unless...
"He wants people," Shige said grimly. "He wants you, Fujikado, Shiho, Shifeng, Shishin... even Shibi."
"Is he insane?"
A second later, it clicked for Tetsumaru.
In the current political climate of Konoha, the Third Hokage's power was peaking. The Clan Head had to consider the Hokage's feelings. Furthermore, thanks to Tetsumaru's recent contributions, the clan was finally becoming wealthy; they no longer needed to trade their lives for Root's funding.
But the most critical reason was that Danzo was too "Iron and Blood." He used his Root shinobi as expendable tools. Every single Aburame ninja assigned to Root was dead.
"All of them? That can't be right," Tetsumaru said, stunned. While he didn't know the exact count, Elder Shiki had mentioned that dozens of elite clan members had joined. The Aburame only had about a hundred active shinobi in total.
Root hadn't even existed for ten years. How could they all be gone?
Shige, usually the picture of Aburame composure, had a twisted expression behind his glasses. His rage was palpable. "Thirty-four elite shinobi. Including four Jonin. All dead."
"And he has the gall to ask for more? On what grounds?"
"He dared to demand Shibi. He dared to threaten us. He's trying to break our spirit. The bastard."
"This time, we're going to make him pay."
The backlash wasn't just coming from the Aburame. The Yamanaka, Nara, Akimichi, and Inuzuka were all involved. Even the Hyuga—who usually treated their branch members like property—had publicly expressed outrage. Even a wealthy landlord can't stand seeing their "assets" squandered so pointlessly.
Danzo would have to back down, or even the Third Hokage would face a revolt.
Of course, the clans were still part of the Hokage's camp. Eventually, they would have to provide support to Root, but the numbers would be small, the "heirs" would be off-limits, and Danzo would have to pay a steep price.
It was an internal power struggle that wouldn't lead to an open civil war. Normally, the Third Hokage would step in as a mediator and resolve it.
But Hiruzen Sarutobi was dragging his feet. He was intentionally letting the tension simmer.
This had created an awkward stalemate. Neither the clans nor Danzo could back down without losing face. The confrontation was escalating out of control, and both sides were paying the price.
Root was currently a hollow shell. No new recruits were coming in, and the veterans were being recalled by their clans. Only a handful of rootless civilian ninja remained.
Danzo was retaliating with everything he had, using his position as commander to suppress the clan ninjas under his thumb. The clans could only do their best to protect their core members.
Non-heirs like Tetsumaru were the ones being sacrificed. No rewards for achievements, punishments for the slightest error, and assignments to the most suicidal missions—it was a series of crude, petty, and dark tactics.
Shige's visit was partly to soothe those affected and keep them informed. He was there to unify their resolve and encourage them to hold out just a little longer.
Once the explanation was over, Tetsumaru showed no sign of resentment. Satisfied, Shige bid him farewell and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.