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Chapter 51 Three Months Later
🕑 Added 2025-06-09 03:00:04 +0000 UTCWe returned to base just as the sun was starting to drip down, dyeing the sky orange. We were a lot cleaner than when we arrived in it for the first time, though still wet. Rivers were wet, and so were we.
I spotted the sentries first, long before we got into their line of sight, but they greeted us with the level of suspicion and caution I had expected.
Standard protocol. We were four strangers returning from enemy territory, and strangers weren’t always friendly.
Still, the moment they saw my eyes—Byakugan activated just long enough to identify myself—one of them lowered his hand from the flare pouch. The other gave a sharp nod, motioning us through with that tired look every front-line shinobi eventually wore.
Not fear. Not relief. Just the worn-down look of someone who spent far too much time on guard. Tired, but too disciplined to rest.
The camp looked different. Not drastically, but enough that I felt it.
The perimeter had been reinforced—thicker earthen ramparts, a few fresh trap lines faintly buried beneath the soil. More guards, too.
Clearly, the last few months hadn’t seen the war situation calm down.
Getting into the camp itself wasn’t too difficult; my eyes and Kuro clearly identified that we belonged to Konoha clans. Faking either of those were all but impossible, much less both, it just didn’t happen.
So with that, we were mostly in; all we had to do was show our mission scroll to the guard squad leader, and we were inside the walls in a few minutes' time.
“Feels like forever since we were here last.” I muttered as I looked around, people milling about, the sound of Kunai clashing as people trained, keeping their skills sharp.
It hadn’t been that long, not when compared to the amount of time I spent sealed away. But time in the field moved differently. Both fast and slow. Spending so much time away from everyone, isolated from the world, it made you fall behind.
“Indeed, been so long all these smells are hurting my poor nose.” Koji fake-whined beside me, no doubt wanting a big hug and a bigger meal.
“That’s how the rest of us have had it while being forced to sleep next to you, dog boy.” I teased back.
Koji gave a theatrical sigh, one hand over his heart. “Cruelty. Betrayal. I fight day and night beside you, and this is the thanks I get.”
Kuro huffed, as if to agree with me. Or maybe just to remind everyone, he also had to sleep next to Koji.
Arata let out a tired chuckle. “You’ll survive. Probably.”
“Alright,” I said, coming to a halt near the mess tents. “Split up. Get washed, eat, rest. I’ll check in with Commander Nara.”
No one argued.
Koji gave a lazy two-finger salute and sauntered off toward the barracks, already talking to Kuro in mock outrage. Arata and Haruto followed at a slower pace. They still didn’t talk much, a little more than when we started.
I couldn’t help but wonder why. Was there something I was missing? Something, Koji and I, missed due to our youth? Or were we simply not scared enough yet?
Once they were gone, I turned toward the command tent.
It was the same tent I had been in last time, only identified by the larger number of guards hiding nearby, and the interior, which was left bare before my Byakugan.
“Jōnin Yuki Hyūga, here to see the commander about an update to my mission and to request a full restock of supplies,” I told the guards outside.
One of them blinked in recognition, then nodded. “He’s expecting you.”
Of course, he was. He was a Nara. He no doubt heard about our return as soon as the guards spotted us and knew we would be here to see him.
They stepped aside without further comment, and I ducked inside the tent.
The interior hadn’t changed much—still that blend of functional austerity and organized chaos that only a warfront strategist could live in.
Scrolls were stacked on a low table off to the side, a rack of updated regional maps dominated the center, and the faint scent of ink and old sweat hung in the air, mingling with the sharper bite of chakra-treated parchment.
Commander Nara was already at the table.
He looked up the moment I entered.
“I must admit, I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.” He said, “More than three months in there, no contact, no sign of you other than a thinning in Suna numbers. I’m impressed.”
I stepped forward, posture straight. “I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.”
“You succeeded anyway,” he replied, voice calm. “Word reached us. Not specifics, of course—just rumors. Patrols disappearing. Suna pulling back from areas they previously held with confidence. Unconfirmed reports of a ghost team operating behind the lines.”
He gestured loosely. “Hard to ignore patterns when they start showing up on every map.”
“So you assumed it was us?”
“I assumed it wasn’t Suna killing their own,” he said. “Which left very few possibilities.”
I didn’t reply. There wasn’t much to say. We had done the work. The kind no one would give medals for.
“Was it as bad as I think it was?” he asked, and for a moment, he wasn’t the commander. Just a man trying to decide what to ask of his soldiers next.
Worse, I thought. But instead, I said, “We managed.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded once. “Good. Let’s talk about what you saw.”
He stepped aside and gestured to the map. “Show me everything.”
I moved closer to the table, unsealed my map, and rolled it out. “This,” I pointed at one red dot. ”Is their forward base, it’s the biggest inside Rivers, holds about four hundred strong, nearly double in size since we first spotted it.”
Nara didn’t say anything immediately. He leaned forward, tracing the surrounding terrain with his eyes, noting the chokepoints, supply lines, fallback paths.
“You’re sure on the numbers?” he asked, voice low.
“As sure as I can be without walking through the gates,” I replied. “The patrol density around the perimeter supports it. We counted rotations, analyzed timings.”
“Permanent?”
“If not yet, then soon. They're building with the intention to stay.”
He let out a breath, one hand drifting to rub the side of his jaw. “That’s a lot more than expected. We figured less than three hundred, so they are reinforcing faster than expected.”
It was no surprise that they knew about it; Konoha would be doomed if they relied on us for such information. They had their own means, their own spies; my team was focused on killing, and gathering information was secondary.
“We killed teams here, here, here, and here,” I said, tapping locations around the map with practiced precision—valleys, riverbanks, forest glades.
Dozens of points. Not entirely accurate, but as best as we could without GPS.
“All in all, one hundred and twenty-seven souls,” I continued. “Including thirty-seven puppet users or shinobi of at least Tokubetsu Jōnin rank.”
Shikadō’s gaze didn’t leave the map, but his fingers curled slowly around the edge of the table.
“You decapitated half a regiment’s worth of specialists,” he said.
“That was our mission.”
“And one you did damn well, if every four man team under my command was half as good as you, I would have ended this entire war years ago.” I praised.
Though he likely wasn’t wrong. If every team he had consisted of one Elite Jōnin and a mix of Tokubetsu Jōnin and regular Jōnin, the other villages would have long ago.
Even though Konoha had the most Jōnin, that still only made up a tiny number of its entire shinobi force. Most were Genin and Chuunin.
“You did more than was asked. Much more. Pushed far deeper than expected. And you’re standing here without having lost a single teammate.”
I held his gaze. “Because my team was up for the mission.”
“Humble, that checks with what I know of you, you are damn good, and well, I need that. We need that, Konoha needs that.” He said, with a tired sigh.
“I’m sure you want news, you have been gone for a while. Out of the loop, I have some letters meant for you, well, for our entire team.” He said, going into his room, and coming out with a stack of them.
“Maybe they will catch you up. Give me a list of supplies you need tomorrow, and take a few days' rest. And gather information, then come to me for any other questions, I need you to be prepared before setting out again.” His words shattered my hope for a new mission, or the end of this.
“Understood, I will take a rest, my men need it, as do I. And you need time to gather supplies, because unless it’s the good stuff, I won’t be accepting it.” I might not be able to turn down the assignment, but I still expected a certain level of supplies.
“No problem,” Nara replied. “The situation isn’t so bad yet that a team like yours has to suffer more than necessary. Though, it might take some time to get proper supplies for you and the Inuzuka boy. That stuff has to be shipped in from Konoha.”
I nodded. “Take your time, I won’t mind spending a bit longer here with a bath and all.”
He offered a thin smile. “Get some rest, Hyūga. You’ve earned it.”
I didn’t salute—just turned, letters in hand, and stepped out into the fading light.
The air outside had cooled. The sky had bled from orange to deep blue, and a few pale stars had begun to peek through the thinning clouds. The camp was quieter now. Dinner fires burned low, and the clang of metal had dulled to murmurs.
I activated my Byakugan to find where the rest had gone off to, because plenty of these letters and scrolls didn’t belong to me, and I wanted to offload them as quickly as possible, because I needed that hot bath badly.
Koji was in the barracks, stretched out on a bunk with one arm flopped across his face, Kuro curled beside him like a lazy guardian.
Haruto was seated by the far wall, gear already cleaned and folded at his feet, reading something I assumed he’d picked up from the local quartermaster—probably a field report, knowing him.
Arata was the only one not sitting still. In fact, it took me a long while to find him, and I quickly shut off my Byakugan once I did. Because he was using the restroom, and I didn’t need to see more of that.
Instead, I just walked towards the others; they could hand him his letters later.
Koji peeked from under his arm. “Back already? What, he didn’t lecture you for an hour about tactical economy and manpower usage?”
“Please, he is a Nara, he is smart enough not to lecture a field commander back from a three-month trip in hostile territory.” I said, dropped a stack of letters and more onto the table. “Damn, almost forgot how a table looked like.” I joked lightly, but honestly, I hadn’t seen one for months… how wild is that.
Koji shifted to sit up, wincing slightly. “Oof. Don’t make me feel that civilian luxury. I was just starting to rewire my brain for tree trunks and eating cold rice off rocks.”
“Rewire harder,” I said, flipping through the envelopes. “These came from back home, so maybe they sent a treat, and we might have to stay for a while, because I’m not accepting standard rations, and neither is Kuro.” I lightly smacked Koji’s shoulder. “So, I sent a letter back home requesting some supplies, partner.”
