In the Land of Rain, at Konoha's base, medical zone.
The heavy flap of the tent was yanked open with a sharp whoosh.
Ryo stepped in first. Cold rainwater dripped from the edge of his forehead protector, splattering dark spots onto the mud at his feet. Behind him, Nawaki and Mikoto followed closely. All three looked worn and ragged. Their forehead protectors and shoulder guards were stained, and their clothes were soaked, dusty, and splattered with mud from their rushed journey from Konoha.
"Nee-chan!"
Nawaki's loud voice rang out as Ryo gave a subtle nod at the same time.
Deep in the tent, Tsunade looked up from a towering stack of casualty reports. Her brows were tightly furrowed, her face full of frustration. But when she saw the sword-wielding figure at the entrance, the tension on her face eased, if only for a moment. That moment passed quickly. A deeper irritation took over as she slammed the thick report onto the table with a loud thud, the pages rustling angrily.
"Finally." Tsunade stood up abruptly and walked over, crouching in front of Ryo. Her white medical coat was stained with dark red blood. Under the cold surgical lamp, the blotches looked even more ominous. "You didn't get intercepted by those persistent Iwa bastards, right? This whole place is a damn powder keg, could blow any second." Her words came rapid-fire, reflecting the disaster unfolding on the front lines.
Ignoring Nawaki's heavy breathing, she locked her eyes onto Ryo. Her expression was one of deep frustration. Then, she exploded.
"Danzō. That old bastard Danzō." Her voice rose sharply, her suppressed fury erupting. "Kitsuchi. Ōnoki's son. He had him dragged into a dungeon, tortured like scum, without even asking a damn question. Treated like some low-ranking enemy spy. If we hadn't discovered it in time…"
Her voice choked off. She stood with hands on her hips, chest heaving with rage. Her glare could burn holes through the wood, and the small table beside her trembled faintly under the pressure of her fury.
"…And now? That kid's hanging by a thread." Tsunade's voice dropped, cold and sharp. "His body's wrecked, like a shattered porcelain doll. Internal organs shredded, multiple arteries severed. He's thirty percent alive, if that. All thanks to Danzō's mess. Wasted a talented shinobi."
Ryo remained silent, letting Tsunade vent. When the final word "wasted" fell, his lips curled slightly. It wasn't a smile, more like a cynical smirk.
"So, Danzō smashed him into a coma, and someone leaked the intel to Ōnoki? I thought Danzō was planning to use Kitsuchi as a bargaining chip. When that failed, he panicked and tried to grab him back by force." His tone was flat, but the sarcasm was unmistakable.
He let out a small breath. "What if Danzō ends up taking the fall for everything?" He didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear. Nawaki snorted quietly beside him, barely holding back a laugh.
"Hah. Who do you think started this whole mess?" Tsunade rolled her eyes and glared. "It all began with you, you punk. You pulled Kitsuchi in, then Danzō wrapped it around his neck, and now the whole shinobi world is about to explode."
Seeing Tsunade's eyes glaring up close, Ryo scratched the bridge of his nose awkwardly. "Uh… this… well…"
Tsunade shot him a hard glare, then reluctantly dropped the matter. She knew full well that while Ryo started it, the one who nearly killed someone and sparked Ōnoki's wrath was Danzō.
An awkward silence weighed down the tent. Even the air felt heavy. Nawaki shrank his neck, not daring to breathe. Mikoto anxiously glanced back and forth between Tsunade and Ryo, fidgeting with the corner of her cloak.
Ryo's brief embarrassment vanished quickly, replaced by his usual calm. He turned back to Tsunade, his voice serious.
"So, why did Orochimaru specifically ask for me? Everyone knows he's researching the Eight-Tails' jinchūriki. But I'm not a sealing specialist."
Just then, the heavy tent flap parted again without warning. A tall, pale figure glided in like a shadow. A chilling, slick presence instantly swallowed up the warmth, replacing it with cold dread and the scent of decay.
Orochimaru.
Dressed in dark robes, his golden, snake-like eyes gleamed in the dim light. That familiar smile, filled with twisted curiosity, curled on his lips. His gaze, cold and predatory, locked straight onto Ryo.
"Heh. Ryo-kun, your senses are as sharp as ever." Orochimaru's voice was low and hoarse, every syllable oozing with strange rhythm. He ignored Tsunade's icy glare and the tense reactions from Nawaki and Mikoto. His attention was fixed solely on Ryo.
"The plan to deal with the Eight-Tails' jinchūriki is ready. The key," he paused deliberately, "is how to retreat after the explosion."
His vertical pupils pinned Ryo like prey. "Your Flying Thunder God technique is the most reliable insurance. After all the trouble of driving that jinchūriki into a frenzy, I refuse to be hunted down by Kumo's elite or die meaninglessly. A death without research value is a complete waste."
Nawaki and Mikoto finally snapped back to their senses and bowed in haste.
"Orochimaru-sama."
Ryo met Orochimaru's eyes, and in that instant, he understood. He was Orochimaru's exit plan. The guaranteed escape route. His lips curled faintly. "Got it. When do we move?"
Orochimaru's grin deepened. "The sooner, the better. Danzō's latest stunt is a high-yield bomb. Iwa's already gone insane. Forces are massing at the border. Scouts are crawling everywhere. We have to move now. Push the Eight-Tails into a rampage and pin the blame on Iwa. That way, Kumo will focus its wrath on them, and Ōnoki will have his hands full up north."
His disdain for Danzō was clear, every word dripping with mockery. "We'll clean up his mess."
Ryo nodded without hesitation. "Alright. Today works. Say the word."
"A wise choice." Orochimaru's voice was pleased, as if all variables were under his control. "It won't take long." His figure dissolved into the shadows, slipping out of the tent like a ghost, leaving behind a cold silence.
The oppressive air finally lifted slightly. Ryo turned to Nawaki and Mikoto.
"Mikoto. Nawaki. You two stay behind."
"What?" Nawaki jumped, face turning red in anger and embarrassment. "Me? Stay back?"
"Tch, with your flashy little tricks?" Before he could finish, Tsunade smacked him on the back of the head, nearly sending him tumbling into a pile of medical waste. "You wanna run around being target practice? Or get in Ryo's way? Get out of here. Go help in the rear unit. Carry stretchers for the guys missing limbs. Now."
Her voice left no room for argument. Nawaki clutched his head, completely shut down.
Mikoto didn't protest. Instead, she quietly let out a breath of relief. She knew how dangerous this mission was. Just not dragging them down was already doing her part. Still, she looked at Ryo with worried eyes, filled with silent strength. Ryo met her gaze briefly. Calm reassurance passed between them.
When Tsunade turned back, her tone was rough, but something in her expression shifted.
"Hey, you little brat." She paused, as if struggling to get something out. "…Don't go running off to get yourself killed. I've got enough patients in here already."
She turned around quickly, pretending to check the bandages on a comatose shinobi, but the slight flush on her ears gave her away.
Ryo didn't say anything. He looked at Tsunade's awkward, forced-busy posture, and the corners of his eyes softened. This was how she showed she cared.
The wait wasn't long.
Outside, the rain pounded harder. Footsteps approached, steady and light. The flap opened again. Orochimaru returned, fully equipped this time. A special scroll box was strapped to his back, his golden snake-eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Ryo-kun. Let's go."
Without a word, Ryo picked up his gear. A small tool bag already prepared. He swung it over his back and tied it tight. Nawaki opened his mouth but only managed a quiet "…Be careful."
Mikoto's eyes followed him closely, filled with silent farewell.
And Ryo's figure sliced through the rain like black lightning, vanishing beyond the flap. A cold gust blew through the tent, stripping away the last warmth. Orochimaru followed, his pale figure melting into the storm.
The rain swallowed them quickly, as if they'd never been there.
Only three remained in the tent.
Nawaki. Face red with frustration.
Mikoto. Silent with worry.
Tsunade. Hiding anxiety beneath her rage.
(To be continued.)