Kumogakure — Office of the Fourth Raikage
Rough parchment thudded onto the Raikage's desk. A rotated sigil, a sealed thread—the subtle signatures of a foreign informant.
"Raikage-sama," the jonin reporting said quietly, "the intelligence division flagged this as high-value."
A snapped parchment. A narrowed gaze.A didn't raise his voice, but the air around him seemed to tense.
"…Strange timing," he muttered. "Strange reach. But not something we can dismiss."
Kumogakure had no shortage of foreign agents trying to sell scraps, hoping to buy their way to safety or power. Most were worthless. A few were dangerous.This one claimed insight into Konoha's border deployments.
A tapped the paper against his palm.
"Verify it. No assumptions. If it's genuine, pay whatever is required. War is cheaper than ignorance."
"Understood."
The runner vanished, leaving only the faint tremor of displaced air.
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Iwagakure — Tsuchikage's Tower
Ohnoki read the same message with barely a flicker of emotion. His years had carved out every unnecessary reaction.
"Another supposed leak," he murmured, setting the scroll aside. "Process it. Quietly. Pay if it checks out."
He'd seen hundreds like it—some real, some traps. None worth showing anxiety over.
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Kirigakure — A dim chamber in the underlayers
Hoshigaki Fuguki, massive and looming in the dark, rolled the sheet closed with a grin too wide for his face.
"So someone's been whispering about Konoha's border lines…"He chuckled, low and ugly. "If this is fake, I'll send a few of their shinobi home in pieces."
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Fire Country Border — Uchiha Encampment
Yoru slipped into his tent as dusk turned the canvas a muted amber. A fresh pouch lay on his cot—Shisui's handwriting marked the seal.
Inside: additional support funds from the clan.
He exhaled, a sound halfway between relief and calculation.
The Uchiha really are unmatched when they decide to invest.
He arranged the notes, tucked away the clan's coded approval, and let the mission's second phase begin.
A sequence of seals flicked through his hands—steady, practiced.
"Summoning Technique."
A flash of white smoke. A grey hawk materialized on his arm, silent as carved stone.No gifts of speech. No chakra tricks. Just wings, endurance, and a mind simple enough that no genjutsu interrogation could pull memories from it.
"Good work," Yoru murmured.
The hawk opened its beak and dropped three small cylinders—each containing a single sealed intelligence fragment.Kumo, Iwa, Kiri.
Three buyers. One edited truth per scroll.
The hawk dispersed in smoke.
Yoru unsealed the payment tubes, counting the coded tokens that represented the transfer of resources through distant intermediaries. He didn't smile—he measured.
Enough to sustain further upgrades. Enough to keep ahead of the curve.But not nearly enough for what was coming.
He leaned back on his hands, listening to the quiet hum of the camp.
If I can enter Orochimaru's direct tutelage, the clan will triple their support. And from the outside…? Even the smallest fragments of border movement fetch a price.
He wasn't betraying the village. Not in his mind.
Konoha was drifting toward a disaster the clan could not escape.If another petty skirmish ignited along the borders, the village council would be too occupied with external threats to point the blade inward.
If the Uchiha had more time—just a little more—history might bend.
Leverage. Not treason.
Yoru tapped a finger against the supply ledger.
The war fronts were shifting. The next two years would be turbulent.He could feel it—the same tension that had marked the end of the Third Shinobi War.
And when Orochimaru defected—and Yoru knew he eventually would—everything in Konoha would unravel.
He needed strength before that happened. Influence.And a network that could outlive the clan's downfall.
He closed his hand around the tokens.
Information is the only currency that never loses value.