The Konoha encampment hummed with a tense, pre-battle energy, a symphony of clattering gear, low-spoken orders, and the distant thwack of practice kunai hitting training posts. In a relatively quiet corner, nestled between two large supply tents that smelled of dried rations and oiled leather, three figures had found a moment of respite. They were seated on overturned crates, the fading afternoon light doing little to warm the damp chill of the borderlands.
Arata Kamizuki, his hair a stark contrast to the drab surroundings, was meticulously polishing the lens of his optical scope with a soft cloth. Across from him, Uchiha Akira, her dark hair tied back in a severe bun that emphasised the sharp angles of her face, was sharpening a senbon.
"Shhh-click, shhh-click"
Leaning against a crate between them, Uchiha Shoda, the most physically imposing of the trio, was absently flexing the fingers of his right hand, tiny, almost invisible sparks of electricity dancing between them—a nervous habit and a constant, low-level chakra control exercise.
"I still can't believe it," Akira said, breaking the comfortable silence. Her voice was low, meant only for them.
"Three of them. Kumo, Suna, and now Iwa. It's like the whole world decided to see if they could break us all at once." She shook her head, the senbon pausing in her hand.
"You'd think we personally offended every Kage on the continent."
Shoda grunted, the sparks at his fingertips flaring for a second. "It's not about offence. It's about opportunity. They see an ageing Hokage, a village still rebuilding from the last war, and they think 'easy pickings'. They're vultures circling, waiting for the first sign of weakness." He cracked his neck.
"They're about to find out this particular corpse still has a lot of fight left in it."
Arata looked up from his scope, his pale eyes thoughtful. "It's the coordination that worries me. Iwa and Kumo hate each other almost as much as they hate us. For them to be acting in tandem, even indirectly… it suggests a level of planning we didn't anticipate. This isn't just an opportunistic land grab anymore."
The conversation lulled for a moment, the grim reality of their situation settling over them like a shroud. It was Shoda who shifted the topic, his tone becoming more personal.
"Speaking of things we didn't anticipate… where the hell has the Captain been? Feels like months since we've seen him."
Akira sighed, sheathing her now-razor-sharp senbon. "You know how it is. Private missions. Anbu stuff, probably. The kind of work they don't brief squad leaders on." There was a hint of frustration in her voice, not at Renjiro, but at the system that kept pulling their anchor away.
Arata nodded, a wry smile touching his lips. "Remember when we were all genins? He was already running circles around us. Now… I sometimes wonder if we'll ever even see the level he's operating on, let alone reach it." He gestured vaguely around the camp.
"We're squad leaders now, leading our own units, and it feels like we're finally catching up. But him? He's playing a completely different game. And we're all a couple of days older than him. It's humbling."
"The last I heard," Arata continued, lowering his voice even further, "was from a logistics runner. Said the Captain was on a deep-cover mission. In Kumogakure."
Shoda's eyebrows shot up. "Again? Wasn't he just there? The last time he was in Kumo, he…" He trailed off, the unspoken event hanging in the air. The standoff with the Two-Tails Jinchuriki that had nearly escalated into a full-scale conflict before the war even officially began.
Akira let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Well, if he's back in Kumo, let's hope he's just sightseeing. Maybe he's collecting intel on their cloud formations." Her joke fell flat for a second before she added, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes, "Or maybe this time, he decided to skip the Jinchuriki and pick a fight with the Raikage himself. You know, for a challenge."
The three of them burst into laughter, the sound a brief, bright spot in the grim atmosphere. It was such an absurd, hyperbolic notion—the idea of their captain, as powerful as he was, soloing the legendary Third Raikage—that it was the perfect release for their built-up tension.
Unbeknownst to them, leaning against the shadowed side of the adjacent supply tent, Renjiro did indeed let out a silent, choked chuckle. The sheer, unintentional accuracy of Akira's joke was almost poetic.
He listened to their laughter, a sound he hadn't realised he'd missed, and felt a pang of something akin to nostalgia. These were his people. The ones he'd fought beside, bled with. They saw him as a near-mythical figure now, and in many ways, he was. But in this moment, he was just their captain, eavesdropping on them.
Deciding the reveal had been drawn out long enough, he pushed off from the tent and stepped around the corner into their little clearing.
The effect was instantaneous.
The laughter died in their throats. Three pairs of eyes widened in unison. Shoda, who had been leaning back, almost fell off his crate. Akira's hand flew to the senbon pouch at her thigh before her brain registered who it was. Arata simply stared, his mouth slightly agape, the polishing cloth frozen in his hand.
A beat of stunned silence was followed by a torrent of overlapping voices.
"Captain!"
"Renjiro-sama! When did you—?"
"By the Sage, we were just talking about you!"
"Are you alright? We heard rumours…"
He held up a hand, and the barrage of questions ceased immediately, a testament to the respect and discipline he commanded. He offered them a small, tired smile. "It's good to see you all in one piece."
His eyes then shifted to the two Uchiha. "Akira. Shoda. Go and prepare your squads. Full combat readiness. We move out at dusk."
The order was so sudden, so definitive, that it took them a second to process. Shoda was the first to find his voice.
"Move out? To where?"
Renjiro's expression didn't change. "Orders from the division commander. We have a war to end."
The simplicity and sheer audacity of the statement left no room for argument. It was not a suggestion; it was a fact he was stating. With sharp nods, the two Uchiha rose and hurried off, their minds already switching from comrades to commanders.
Arata remained, slowly getting to his feet. He looked at Renjiro, a thousand questions in his eyes, but he asked none of them. He knew his friend, his captain. The answers would come when they were needed.
Renjiro looked him over, a genuine smirk finally breaking through his weary exterior. "So," he said, his tone lighter now that they were alone. "Tell me, how has being a Squad Captain treated you?"
=====
Hundreds of miles away, the air was thick with a different kind of moisture. A perpetual, weeping rain slicked the towering pipes and metal walkways, creating a thousand echoing drips that formed the village's melancholic rhythm. In a secluded, dimly lit alleyway, a figure cloaked in nondescript grey stood perfectly still.
The shinobi's hands moved with practised, silent precision, weaving through a series of complex hand signs. With the final seal, he pressed his palms flat against the wet, grimy metal of the alley floor.
A complex trigram seal, glowing with a faint, blood-red light, erupted from his touch. It expanded rapidly, its intricate lines and patterns spreading across the ground like a growing spiderweb, pulsing with a soft, malevolent energy.
At the centre of the seal, the air itself seemed to warp and compress. With a soft puff of smoke that was immediately beaten down by the rain, a scroll materialised. It was sealed with black wax imprinted with a symbol too complex to make out in the gloom.
The cloaked shinobi leaned forward, his movements efficient and devoid of wasted motion. He picked up the scroll, broke the seal, and unfurled it. His eyes, hidden in the shadow of his hood, scanned the contents. The message was brief, coded, and devastatingly clear.
A low, almost inaudible sound escaped his lips, a whisper that was swallowed by the endless patter of rain.
"So," he murmured, the words curling into the damp air like poison. "Uzumaki Renjiro will be our guest?"