The rain had been falling lightly since Hiruzen's speech—an endless cascade that whispered across the canvas roofs and earthen walls of the First Division's forward command post. Some saw it as a bad omen, a harbinger of the battles to come. Others said the rain was simply the land mourning preemptively for all the lives that would soon be lost. But in the heart of the fortified encampment, no one had the luxury of superstition. There was too much to do.
The stronghold itself had been built in haste but with remarkable precision—its walls raised through a collaboration of skilled Earth Release users who had carved shelter from the stone and loam near the border of the Land of Fire. The structure loomed dark and damp, squat like a crouching beast. Within its belly, the nerve centre of the First Division pulsed with quiet urgency. Flickering lanterns lined the walls, casting gold and amber reflections against wet stone, and the thick scent of ink, damp soil, and burning oil permeated the air.
Around the central war table, a broad slab of polished stone etched with maps, markers, and scrawled notations, stood six commanders—each seasoned, each marked by war. At the head stood Uchiha Daichi, Hiruzen's appointed coordinator for the First Division and the one charged with interpreting the Third Hokage's will into tangible orders.
"The Third Hokage has issued new directives," Daichi began, his voice level, yet commanding. Rain tapped steadily on the roof above them, like the ticking of a great timepiece counting down to conflict. "He wants the fighting moved as far from Konoha and the Land of Fire as possible. Ideally, closer to Suna and Iwa territory. We are to take the battle to them."
A murmur passed between the assembled shinobi—low voices and measured glances exchanged like shuriken.
One of them, an older Jonin with a thick beard, raised a hand. "Daichi-san," he said, stepping forward, "relocating the battlefront to the far borders will wreck the supply chain we've just begun to finalize. Is that kind of shift even sustainable?"
Daichi nodded slowly, acknowledging the weight of the objection. "I understand the concern. But the answer is yes. It is not optimal—but it is necessary. Hiruzen-sama believes protecting the Land of Fire's heartland is paramount. You all saw first-hand how the village, and the country at large, was almost destroyed during the last Great War. Konoha must remain untouched by the initial fires of war. And if we must bleed, we will bleed at the edges, not the centre."
The bearded Jonin grunted, folding his arms. "Supply lines can be rerouted, but we're still counting on terrain we barely know. That favours the enemy."
A younger commander, his brow adorned with the pale veins of the Byakugan and the insignia of the Hyuga clan, spoke up. "Perhaps we should employ the Kiri shinobi in this manoeuvre? Their numbers are not insignificant, and their combat style is aggressive enough to serve as a spearhead. They also have more experience dealing with Kumo shinobi than we do."
Daichi's eyes narrowed slightly. He glanced at his son Fugaku, who stood silently at his side, arms crossed. "No," Daichi said firmly. "We cannot allow ourselves to depend on Kirigakure at the outset of this war. They're here as reinforcements, not as our vanguard. The First Division must take the initiative. This is our land. Our fight."
The young Hyuga shinobi nodded faintly in agreement.
"We'll use Kiri when the time is right," Daichi continued. "But the initial wave must show Konoha's resolve. We must neutralize the forward units of Suna and Kumo first. And then, once they're destabilized, we strike their villages simultaneously."
Though Hiruzen and Daichi rarely saw eye to eye, Daichi understood the Hokage's caution toward Kirigakure. While the Mist could be wielded like a sharp weapon in the heat of war, that same blade could just as easily turn and cut its wielder.
It had already happened once—alliances shattered, betrayals inked in blood rather than scrolls. In the world of shinobi, trust was a fleeting thing, and loyalty often bowed to shifting interests. Daichi knew better than to bet Konoha's future on the stability of a handshake; shinobi alliances were never absolute—they were only as strong as the moment demanded, and the moment could turn at any time.
Daichi leaned forward, placing both hands on the surface of the map. Inked roads and regions were partially smeared by moisture, but the important routes were still clear.
"We'll need to divide our forces to deal with both threats at once. I'm recommending that we send Squad Thirteen to intercept the Suna shinobi in Takigakure. Squad Seven will confront the Kumo contingent approaching through the mountain passes."
The bearded Jonin raised a brow. "Shouldn't it be the other way around? The captain of Squad Thirteen specializes in lightning redirection techniques. He's better suited to combat Kumo's forces."
A flicker of disagreement passed through the room.
"That's precisely why we should not send him against Kumo," Fugaku said. "He's prepared for Kumo's tactics. Which means Kumo has likely prepared for him. It's a classic double bluff. And while he is effective against lightning-style attacks, he and his squad also possess wind-based nature affinity. That makes them a dangerous surprise against the Suna forces in Takigakure."
"But wouldn't that leave Squad Seven at a disadvantage?"
"Not necessarily," Daichi replied, returning to the map. "Squad Seven includes shinobi with strong earth and water affinities. Those are effective defences against lightning. More importantly, their captain has previously trained in mountainous terrain. His adaptability makes him ideal for the conditions we're likely to face along the Kumo route."
The rain outside thickened for a moment, drumming louder on the rooftop. Inside, the discussion quieted as Daichi stood straight.
"Very well. Squad Thirteen will engage the Suna force. Squad Seven will intercept the Kumo shinobi. We move swiftly, and we strike before they can unite their operations. Make sure the captains are briefed by nightfall."
The commanders began to shuffle, collecting scrolls, sealing ink, and final orders. The mood had shifted; there was no triumph here—only the certainty of movement, the inevitability of conflict.
As the group began to break apart, one commander lingered. He looked young but bore an old soul's weariness in his eyes. "Daichi-san," he said, pausing at the edge of the table, "What happens if both groups fail? If the enemy overwhelms them or our squads are delayed?"
The words fell into the chamber like a stone into still water.
Daichi's expression didn't falter. "I've already considered that possibility."
The young commander waited.
"There will be an assurance," Daichi said at last. "A countermeasure is being dispatched with each group. It's not just blind hope we're placing in these squads. We're sending strength. Experience. And... resolve."
Fugaku turned, his face unreadable in the half-light.
"They won't fail," Daichi said softly, more to himself than anyone else. "We cannot afford for them to fail."
Outside, the rain continued. The wind carried the distant sound of movement—troops adjusting, orders relayed, distant lightning flashing across the darkening horizon. A storm was gathering on more than just the sky.
=====
Bless me with your powerful Power Stones.
Your Reviews and Comments about my work are welcomed
If you can, then please support me on Patreon.
Link - www.patreon.com/SideCharacter
You Can read more chapters ahead on Patreon.