"I understand. When do we depart?"
Hōzuki Mangetsu asked calmly.
For this mission, he showed no hesitation.
Anyone with half a brain could see the danger in such an assignment. Since ancient times, sabotage missions into enemy territory had always been close to a death sentence. Even shinobi, who prided themselves on obedience to orders, would usually betray some sign of doubt, hesitation, or fear when faced with such a perilous task.
That was only human.
But Mangetsu had not a shred of doubt. He accepted the near-suicidal mission without so much as a pause.
This stirred a sigh in Terumī Jin's heart. The new generation in the village truly was becoming more and more ruthless—merciless to their enemies, and even harsher toward themselves. Mangetsu of the Hōzuki clan was proof enough.
And Mangetsu wasn't the only one. Jin had heard that the Hoshigaki clan had also produced a brutal prodigy—barely a year out of the Academy and already absorbed into the ANBU. And just a few years ago, during the Academy's graduation exams, a boy named Momochi Zabuza had slaughtered every single one of his fellow examinees at the age of seven.
Each more savage than the last.
"The departure time isn't mine to decide," Jin said, gazing at the white-haired, violet-eyed youth before him, only fifteen years old. "This is a direct order from the Mizukage. Command lies with Fuguku Suikazan. You'll report to him directly… Ryūsei, take Mangetsu to him."
"Yes, Jin-sama."
Kirigumo Ryūsei responded crisply.
The two withdrew, Ryūsei leading Mangetsu toward Fuguku Suikazan, leaving only Jin and Ao inside the tent.
"I still think this operation is far too dangerous," Jin said darkly.
"Jin-sama, this is the Mizukage's order," Ao replied, his face grim.
"Konoha forced Iwa to surrender by destroying Kannabi Bridge, but that was only because Iwa's forces were stranded in the Land of Grass, with the bridge serving as their lifeline. We, on the other hand, are in the Land of Fire. It's not Konoha that's fighting away from home—it's us. There is no vital point in Konoha's rear comparable to Kannabi Bridge."
Jin's voice rose with frustration as he vented his growing pressure. "Even if Fuguki and his team destroy a few of Konoha's supply depots, so what? Will that starve their shinobi? Will it leave them without kunai?"
Finally, he spat out the thought directly:
"To think that one strike force can overturn the tide of this war is nothing but wishful fantasy!"
"Jin-sama," Ao growled, eyes narrowing with a fierce glare. "From the way you speak… are you saying we Kiri-nin are destined to lose no matter what we do?"
"Isn't that the truth?" Jin snapped back, his temper breaking through, tearing away the last pretense.
Ao's face hardened, though he found no retort.
"I don't want to admit it either," Jin pressed on, voice low and bitter, "but reality doesn't bend to my feelings. Konoha's strength far outstrips ours. Even when they were fighting wars on four fronts, we couldn't seize any real advantage. Now Suna, Kumo, and Iwa have all been driven back. Only we Kiri remain... Tell me—how are we supposed to win? With what?"
Every word cut deep. To Ao, Jin's speech was unbearable—yet also undeniable.
Truthfully, Ao had no confidence in this mission either. He had even tried to dissuade the Mizukage. But the war against Konoha was a campaign the Mizukage himself had championed since his ascension. He refused to accept the humiliation of defeat. He yearned for victory to cement his authority.
He had ignored every warning.
In desperation to turn the tide, he had even dispatched the Seven Ninja Swordsmen—a unit that reported directly to the Mizukage and existed specifically for near-impossible missions. Because Biwa Jūzō had been reassigned to the Land of Rivers to assist Masakazu of the Kirigumo clan in handling the Koeda clan, the Mizukage had ordered Mangetsu conscripted to fill Jūzō's place.
"Jin-sama," Ao said quietly. "The die is cast."
At that, Jin fell silent. His once-straight back seemed to sag, his expression dimming.
After a long pause, he sighed heavily.
"...Let us hope the Mizukage's wish comes true."
---
Beneath the forests of the Land of Fire,
in a sprawling underground base as vast and intricate as a palace—
"Madara-sama! Madara-sama!"
The loud, frantic cry rang out.
An old man seated upon a stone chair slowly opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on the White Zetsu that had rushed before him.
"What are you shouting about? What happened?"
"That Uchiha Jiuyu—we've secured him,"
White Zetsu reported eagerly.
"If he's secured, then proceed with the plan. Why are you yelling like a fool?"
Madara's eyes bored into him.
"When I rescued him, he was on the brink of death from explosive tags. To be honest, if not for the spores planted in his body shielding him at the last moment, he would've been reduced to pulp…"
"Spare me the chatter. Get to the point," Madara said coldly.
"...I thought he wouldn't survive the trip back. So, after slipping past that Kiri-nin's notice, I transplanted the Hashirama cells into him on the spot."
"And?"
Madara's gaze sharpened, his voice carrying a rare edge.
"And… he seems to have accepted them. Almost no signs of rejection at all."
White Zetsu answered.
"...Bring him here. I want to see for myself."
Madara drew in a deep breath, forcing down the sudden surge of excitement in his chest.
White Zetsu rushed off joyfully, soon returning with a half-naked boy slung carelessly over his shoulder. With no gentleness at all, he dumped the unconscious youth at Madara's feet.
Madara did not move from his stone chair.
But his eyes changed silently—turning blood-red, tomoe spinning like black fish swimming in the scarlet depths. His original eyes had been removed long ago, transplanted into the Uzumaki descendant. These were not his own but a pair collected from fallen Uchiha.
After all, he had once been clan leader of the Uchiha. And after mastering the forbidden technique Izanagi, he had gathered many of his clan's discarded eyes.
They weren't his perfected, original eyes—but this set of three-tomoe Sharingan was still serviceable. At the very least, their perception was sharp enough for his needs.
"Good. He really has integrated the cells."
After scrutinizing the unconscious Uchiha Jiuyu for more than ten seconds, Madara's lips curved into a faint smile. His mood had clearly lifted.