After seeing off Aburame Shige, Tetsumaru returned to his tent to digest the information he'd gathered.
As a transmigrator, his greatest "Golden Finger" was his memory of the plot—a lighthouse guiding his way. When he analyzed current intel against the future timeline, the accuracy and reliability of his deductions were unparalleled.
Shimura Danzu: a figure almost every Konoha shinobi was destined to collide with.
The Aburame clan was deeply entangled with him. Tetsumaru recalled that among the two guards who provided cover for Danzu during his final stand, one was an Aburame and the other a Yamanaka.
Right, that would be around Konoha Year 63 or 64. And the Aburame clan had at least one other named member in Root...
By his current timeline, those two shinobi hadn't even been born yet; they were the elites of the next generation. From the fragments of his memory, he recalled an Aburame whose skin turned entirely purple, delivering a lethal poison upon contact. He controlled nano-scale venomous insects...
Wait. Nano-toxic bugs.
The mainstream Aburame—the Clan Head's lineage—focused on all-purpose, versatile Kikaichu. Elder Shiki's line pushed for size, breeding "Macro-phage" Kikaichu. Only Shige's lineage focused on miniaturization: the nano-scale strain.
That purple-skinned boy... is he Shige's descendant?
He has to be.
A child of Shige's line, the successor to the nano-venom insects—a core elite of the clan—thrown away like common cannon fodder just to buy a few meaningless seconds for a seal to undo itself.
Damn it. Some things never change.
Cross-referencing everything, the claim that Danzu had ground the Root shinobi down to nothing was likely the truth. In the future, when he finally achieved his dream of becoming Hokage (even if only as the "Acting Fifth-and-a-Half"), his arrogance and true nature would be fully exposed. Currently, he was still "young and brash," not yet adept at masking his intentions.
If this was true, then the reports of the Hokage-loyal clans collectively boycotting Danzu were almost certainly accurate as well.
The Aburame weren't just mourning their lost children; they were grieving a failed strategic investment. funneling dozens of clan elites into a single department was a major move—an investment of nearly thirty percent of the clan's total strength. They had hoped to grow Root into a powerhouse and secure a seat at the table of power.
Then, crunch. Everyone was gone.
Danzu had burned through the clan's people until Root was a hollow shell. What was the point of "development" now? What was he even playing at?
Dozens of elites, not just a handful of individuals. Was he intentionally sabotaging the clan? Or did Root simply view the clan's children as "pioneer fodder," intended from the start to be used up and discarded?
The clans were currently making a scene in a unified front because they wanted a statement from the higher-ups: Danzu, do you intend to share the power of Root with us or not?
Tetsumaru exhaled, a sense of relief washing over him. The pieces finally fit.
None of this has anything to do with me.
An hour later, Captain Ueno came to fetch Tetsumaru. Together, they headed toward the center of the camp to "pick" new teammates.
Yes—selecting teammates on the fly. It was a bafflingly idiotic procedure.
Except for elite squads led by Jonin or heirs of the Great Clans, all shinobi squads were being filled with random selections. Beyond ensuring that a squad was at full strength, the administration gave zero consideration to squad composition or compatibility. It was, hands down, the most effective strategy for sabotaging combat efficiency.
Because "fifty percent casualties" was a valid condition for mission completion, no captain dared to head out under-strength. The result was that low-level squads were constantly being broken up and reassembled, causing the casualty rate to skyrocket to an unbelievable sixty percent.
For this same reason, Might Duy had been unable to return to Squad Ueno after recovering. He had been drafted into another unit as fodder. That thick-headed honest man was always the first to charge and the last to retreat; without familiar teammates to watch his back, he couldn't achieve his full potential and was prone to constant injury.
Duy had recovered three times, only to be sent on a single mission and return to the hospital with critical injuries. This was his third stay; in the last two months, he had spent fifty-five days in a hospital bed.
Worse, he hadn't managed to secure a single kill. Tetsumaru had heard rumors that Duy had been officially labeled "trash." There was a high probability he would be sent back to the village to perform manual labor or logistics work.
After picking two Genin they didn't know, Squad Ueno set out. Once again, it was a long-range reconnaissance mission.
Once they were ten kilometers clear of the camp, Tetsumaru deployed his swarm array. His scouting insects fanned out into five layers of defensive perimeters:
Outer Layer: Dragonflies carrying Kikaichu, focused on visual reconnaissance.Second Layer: Blood Flies, specializing in detecting the scent of blood or body odor.Third Layer: Fireflies, which would congregate around leaking chakra and emit an irritating flash—perfect for nighttime detection.Fourth Layer: Great-Eyed Moths, utilizing infrared vision.Inner Layer: Jumping Spiders, sensing vibrations through the ground.
Only after setting up his Fourth Generation Eye of Truth—which monitored infrared, ultraviolet, and fluorescence simultaneously—did Tetsumaru feel a modicum of peace. He signaled the Captain that they were ready to move.
Captain Ueno gave the orders to the two bewildered rookies, and the squad began their journey due north.
The most significant result of the last two months of attrition was the successful expulsion of the enemy from the immediate area. Squad Ueno traveled through the night, encountering two other Konoha squads but seeing no sign of the enemy.
At dawn, they selected a site to set up camp and rest for half a day before continuing.
Ueno chose a spot near a water source. The two exhausted rookies immediately drank their fill and ate their dry rations in grim, stony silence.
Tetsumaru glanced at them, feeling no desire to speak.
The "Retreat at Fifty Percent Casualties" mission standard was disgusting. It made it impossible for veterans and rookies to trust one another. The rookies felt like they were just tools for the veterans to complete missions; the veterans couldn't honestly deny it—after all, why else would they bring two "burdens" along?
Squad Ueno split into two groups, resting in silence.
Once they'd eaten and drunk their fill, the rookies seemed to perk up slightly. They realized the two veterans hadn't assigned them to sentry duty, which allowed them to relax significantly.
They weren't total greenhorns; they'd been in other squads before. In a typical squad, the rookies stood watch while the veterans slept, acted as rear guards during combat, and were the ones sacrificed to meet the "casualty" requirement for retreat. They were pure cannon fodder.
They began to think they might have gotten lucky—that they had found a reliable squad that might actually accept them.
They didn't realize that in the hearts of Ueno and Tetsumaru, as long as the mission structure remained unchanged, they had no intention of "accepting" anyone.
While the two wouldn't exploit or intentionally sabotage the rookies—and would even offer a bit of care—the reality was that the mission parameters were irrational and the frequency of deployment was too high. Even with full support, the chances of a rookie surviving for long were slim. That was just the cold, hard truth of the front.
After their rest, they pushed forward. Tetsumaru took point, maintaining a speed of roughly eight kilometers per hour. For a shinobi, this was agonizingly slow, and the two rookies in the middle were clearly confused.
This speed was dictated by the pace of Tetsumaru's scouting insects. The scouts had to go first; he didn't dare move blindly.
The Konoha shinobi were charging in recklessly, but the Suna shinobi were having a hard time as well. Lacking the numbers to face Konoha head-on, they relied on ambushes and concentrated counter-attacks to protect their own base camps.
In the Land of Rain, you never knew when you were about to walk into an ambush or stumble into a Suna counter-offensive company. If you did, you were dead.
After bypassing six ambush points and traveling for four hours, Tetsumaru suddenly raised his right hand in a "halt" gesture. The two rookies took cover immediately. Captain Ueno noticed that Tetsumaru himself didn't hide, which meant he had detected a long-distance threat. He moved up to consult.
"One o'clock. Three kilometers. Six shinobi squads. Puppets detected."
"Ten-thirty. Three point five kilometers. Five shinobi squads. Massive puppet presence."
"Twelve o'clock. Four kilometers. Four shinobi squads. Also a heavy puppet presence."
Ueno sucked in a sharp breath. This was bad.
A Suna counter-offensive was usually a company of forty-eight men, split into two prongs. Occasionally, they launched larger-scale operations where several squads formed a battle group, with seven or eight groups forming a horizontal line to sweep the area. The most dangerous scenario involved one or two even larger groups flanking the sweep to cut off the Konoha retreat and complete an encirclement.
They had already identified three battle groups in front of them. This was a massive operation. The only question was whether the flanking units were already in place.
"What's the situation behind us?"
"Hold on, let me check." Tetsumaru closed his eyes, focusing entirely on his secret technique to commune with the scouting insects he'd left along their trail.
The two rookies emerged from cover, approaching the Captain with growing dread. They realized something was wrong, but listening to the dialogue between the Captain and their senior left them utterly bewildered.
What? He can tell the exact number of enemies from three kilometers away? He can count the puppets?
Is Senior Aburame really such a powerful sensory ninja?
And there are that many enemies?
Tetsumaru opened his eyes, his expression grave. "Roughly eight kilometers to our rear, there are two groups of shinobi. We won't be able to push past them before the pincer closes."
"There's no other way," Ueno said, his voice laced with apology. "Everyone, we have to retreat."
"Listen to the plan. The Suna-nin to our rear have enough people to form two blocking lines. We have enough power to break through a single, screening-strength line."
"The problem is that once we break the first line, the enemies on the second line will converge on the breakthrough point. At least three squads will group up there—and worst-case scenario, it'll draw in a Jonin."
"So, once we punch through the first line, we'll pivot to the flanks and scatter. Every man for himself."
The rest is up to skill and luck, Ueno didn't say, but everyone understood.
"Any questions?"
The three Genin shook their heads in unison.
"Then move."
This time, Captain Ueno took point, with Tetsumaru following and the two rookies in the rear.
Following the Captain's pace allowed Tetsumaru the mental bandwidth to activate his secret techniques and use his Summoning Silks to mobilize his insects. He had left quite a few "assets" on the road behind them.
Several dragonflies sped ahead, their pheromones waking the dormant insects and signaling them to congregate at the planned breakthrough point.
Once the preparations were complete, Tetsumaru swapped to the point position, with Ueno following to prepare for combat.
The two rookies were a mess of nerves, unsure of how to prepare. One fumbled with several explosive tags; the other frantically checked his tool pouch before pulling out a single kunai and clutching it tightly.
Ueno looked back at them and sighed.
We still have plenty of ground to cover. Doesn't he realize holding a kunai like that messes with his running rhythm?
The one with the explosive tags was doing better—but only slightly.
Ueno couldn't help but offer some advice, even though he knew their chances of a successful retreat were slim.
"Wrap all your explosive tags around your kunai handles and set the fuses. During the breakthrough, we need maximum firepower instantly."
"Don't hold them in your hands. Keep them in your pouches at the very top for easy access."
"And don't throw all of them! Save at least one for when you're on your own."
"If an enemy shows their face, throw a shuriken. Don't worry about hitting them—just keep running."
"If they use ninjutsu, use that last kunai. Don't be stingy."
"If the enemy does X, you do Y..."
Ueno eventually trailed off and fell silent. The two rookies looked more lost than before.
Tetsumaru curled his lip. You're saying too much, Captain.
The first three sentences were enough. Everything after that—the "contingency plans"—was just noise. Humans are "bitter insects"; they don't learn from words, only from experiencing the bitterness themselves. Experience is a summary of pain; if you haven't felt the pain, the summary is useless.
"Tags on the kunai. Fuses ready. Top of the pouch. Throw them all when the fight starts, but save the last one," the Captain repeated one last time.
"The rest is up to your luck."