Ambush at the Border
If the matter were exposed, it wouldn't hurt him much.
Even Fugaku would be reluctant to move against one of the clan's geniuses; those kinds of internal reckonings weren't taken lightly. As long as Fugaku didn't act, his safety wasn't in immediate danger. The Hokage wouldn't interfere in a clan's internal affairs unless it became necessary — and in wartime, the Hokage's priority was mobilization, not family squabbles.
The one to fear was Danzo. Danzo's hatred of the Uchiha was pathological. If Danzo found out, he'd try to swallow Jin whole with Root. But without Danzo personally acting and mobilizing Root, Jin thought he could still slip away even if he lost the fight.
So Jin accepted the risk, at least as a test. Shisui had done him a favor — told him something top-secret just to give him a chance — and that trust deserved a return. If the test failed, he could still try to save Shisui later. If it succeeded, it meant Jin mattered to Shisui enough to pull him closer. If he could bring Shisui along, it would be a huge gain: a true clan genius as an ally was invaluable.
"Shisui," Jin muttered to himself, "I gave you a chance. Don't let me down."
---
Three days later, at the border of the Fire Country, they were about to board a boat when two Kirigakure squads burst from cover.
"Mist Hidden Technique!"
The Kirigakure captains formed seals with lightning speed. Thick, choking fog poured over the supply convoy.
"Protect the convoy! Watch for ambushes!" Kudo Nobu barked, then began sealing himself.
"Tsuchi Kabe!"
A massive surge of earth rose—three walls in rapid succession—and formed a protective ring around the wagons. Kudo didn't stop until he'd performed the jutsu three times. When he finally stilled, his face was ashen.
"Chakra's drained. Ten minutes to recover," he gasped. "Hold the line. Don't panic. They won't risk pressing if we stay firm."
The two Kirigakure teams clustered beyond the walls—elite operatives from Kirigakure. That meant trouble: Kirigakure's frontline troops were lean, mean, and brutal when they fought in the mist. Kudo's three walls bought time, but they could not smash through elite foes without reinforcement.
Jin, Kazama, and their team huddled inside the earthen ring. Kudo slumped to the ground, popping a recovery pill and settling into meditation to replenish chakra.
"Jin — what do you think?" Nara Kazama asked quietly.
Jin stared at the fog, then answered, "They fight best in darkness. We stay in the light and defend."
Kazama nodded. It was sensible: lure the mist-clad attackers into a place where their advantage was minimized.
But Ishikawa Itsuki bristled. He'd never liked Jin or Kazama; their composed, strategic outlooks looked like cowardice to him. They'd chosen defense—what he considered the worst possible option.
"You two are cowards!" Itsuki barked. "Two Kirigakure squads? You really intend to sit and play defense? Don't forget — I'm top three in the class. I came here to kill enemies and earn merit, not babysit supplies!"
He puffed up with adolescent bravado. "If the captain falls, I'm the acting leader. I'll take the initiative—watch me show you how a Konoha ninja fights!"
His words hung in the air: loud, reckless, and thinly veiled panic dressed as pride.
Kudo's stare was flat and unimpressed. He had been at war; he'd seen the conceit of academy champions. Vanity like Itsuki's ended quickly on the battlefield. For now, Kudo kept silent; his priority was the wagons, not the hotheaded boy.
Inside the earthen ring, the convoy waited. Outside, the Kirigakure silhouettes shifted in the mist. The next ten minutes would tell whether cheap bravado or calm discipline would keep them alive.