"I got held up a bit on the way."
Kiyohara said as he hurried over to stand beside Rin, Kurenai, and the others.
In war, things could change in an instant. Any extra bit of strength was worth it.
He turned his gaze to the man at the center.
Orochimaru.
He'd only seen him from afar a few times before.
That 100,000-ryō "sponsorship" from Orochimaru last time had honestly surprised him.
If his last name were Uchiha, he'd be wondering whether Orochimaru was planning to stab him—shove that cold, slithering soul into his body and take it over.
After all, to get his hands on Uchiha Sasuke's body, Orochimaru had poured every effort into training him for three years—only to flip the car at the very end.
Right now, though, Orochimaru probably wasn't that far gone yet. It was still "just" an obsession with the Sharingan and some cooperation with Danzō.
Once he met his lifelong nemesis Itachi, then he would fully spiral into Uchiha madness.
"Everyone, quiet."
Orochimaru stood atop a hastily built wooden platform, golden slit pupils sweeping over the gathered shinobi.
An invisible pressure spread out. The noisy crowd fell silent almost instantly.
As one of the Sannin, his presence needed no explanation.
"Everyone's here."
His raspy voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly through the tent.
"Recently, Kirigakure… is no longer satisfied with border skirmishes. They've begun… testing the waters inside the Land of Fire."
His tongue flicked unconsciously across his lips, as if he were looking forward to something.
"I think you all understand how difficult things are now. But the village needs us," he went on.
That much was true.
The great nations were all at war, and the Land of Fire sat on the richest land on the continent—naturally, every eye was on it.
Konoha's only real advantage was on the Iwa front.
Everywhere else, Kiri, Suna, and Kumo were pushing in.
As a result, Konoha's forces were running thin.
The shinobi war had entered an era of attrition—every loss was felt. Every mission that took one life out of the pool probably wouldn't get it back.
The Academy simply wasn't producing enough graduates to match the monthly death toll.
"To deal with a potential large-scale invasion, we need to establish a naval defense line. And all of you…"
His gaze swept the crowd again.
"…will be assigned to different sectors."
Murmurs rose through the assembled ninja, heavy and subdued.
The war clouds only darkened.
Orochimaru ignored the noise, picked up a scroll, and began reading out assignments.
When it was his squad's turn, Kiyohara perked his ears.
"…the above squads will go to the former site of Uzushiogakure and establish forward observation posts, scout Mist movements, and carry out early interception if necessary."
Former Uzushiogakure?
Kiyohara's thoughts sharpened.
That had once been the land of the Uzumaki, now reduced to ruins.
Its location faced Land of Water directly—a perfect place for a front-line defense.
Which also meant it would be especially dangerous.
"Kiyohara, have you ever been to Uzushio on a mission?" Kurenai asked, curious.
"No. Never," Kiyohara shook his head.
The old Uzushio site wasn't on the mainland; it was on a huge island dozens of kilometers offshore.
Like the Land of Waves, it was considered a small country—but its territory was dozens of times larger.
"I haven't either," Rin added quietly.
As they whispered, Orochimaru finished the roster and dismissed everyone. The crowd began to break up.
Just as Kiyohara was about to leave, Orochimaru said:
"Kiyohara, stay behind. Come to my tent."
In an instant, every gaze in the area snapped to Kiyohara.
Kurenai, who had just started to walk away, stopped in surprise, red eyes full of questions.
Even Kakashi's dead-fish eye widened a fraction, turning toward him.
Why was a fresh chūnin catching the eye of one of the Sannin?
Kiyohara's mind raced, but his face stayed calm. He answered with a simple "Yes" and followed Orochimaru toward the central tent.
Genma watched him walk off beside the Anbu escort, senbon bobbing in his mouth.
"This kid… might really be about to make it big," he muttered.
He felt… complicated.
Before, he'd worried Kiyohara would die from lack of strength.
Now that the guy had apparently caught the attention of the upper ranks, he was afraid he'd actually take off—
As the saying goes: you don't want your brother to suffer, but you also don't want your brother to show up in a luxury car.
...
Inside, the lighting was dim, only a few oil lamps casting wavering shadows.
Orochimaru sat at the head, fingers steepled under his chin, golden eyes studying Kiyohara with interest.
"Orochimaru-sama," Kiyohara greeted respectfully.
"Heh-heh…"
Orochimaru let out a low chuckle.
"Kiyohara-kun, no need to be so stiff. I'm just… curious about your performance," he said.
If you looked closely at his file, you saw that his sensory ability far exceeded the average shinobi.
On top of that, he was strong in both Wind and Lightning Release, and now, apparently, kenjutsu as well.
Altogether, that put him beyond the usual chūnin.
Killing a Mist jōnin like Ao wasn't out of line.
"I've heard most of your mission pay—and even my sponsorship—went toward buying tools and fixing your gear. You've even… taken out a village loan?" Orochimaru asked.
Kiyohara's heart gave a faint jolt.
Of course someone at Orochimaru's level could see through his finances like glass.
He kept himself steady and answered honestly:
"Yes, Orochimaru-sama. Better equipment means a higher chance of survival. For a shinobi, what really matters is… staying alive."
He didn't say anything about "for Konoha" or "for the Will of Fire."
He gave the most practical—and least arguable—answer.
If you get killed, you die.
Kiyohara didn't expect Orochimaru to have much "Will of Fire" spirit.
To him, most people were probably just test subjects, like little rice buns. And who remembers how many buns they ate?
"Interesting. Very pragmatic," Orochimaru said.
He was surprised by the answer. It wasn't what he was used to hearing from Konoha shinobi.
He'd asked this question of many before.
Most answered "for the Hokage" or "for the village."
The worse the war got, the tighter their faith—that is, their thinking—became, trapping them in the role of tools.
In his view, that was brainwashing.
He thought of all things, and people, as windmills—only interesting when the wind was blowing.
His curiosity about this civilian shinobi's mind only grew.
"Then why do you want to stay alive?" Orochimaru asked, eyes sharp.
It was a question he asked himself too.
"To keep seeing more of the world—and grasp more of the truth," Kiyohara said without missing a beat.
He knew what Orochimaru liked to hear and played to it.
For Kiyohara, staying alive meant receiving more futures, more urns—and more strength.
He mentally mapped the timeline: from this base to Uzushio's ruins would take just over a week.
They'd be moving under heavy load and carrying supplies.
Once they arrived, if he could stay careful for another week on the front, he'd reach the window for the next Willbook.
~~~
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