[Tanigakure Border Outpost (Gorge Watch)]
Border Commander Boro Mizuchi stared at the casualty report, his blunt fingers threatening to crumple the damp parchment. The words swam before his eyes, but their meaning was brutally clear.
*Patrol Team Beta-7 failed to return from the central canal liaison. Search party found evidence of combat. Three confirmed deaths. No enemy bodies recovered. Signs point to Amegakure's new Haribako-led squad*
He let the scroll drop onto the map table, which was already littered with similar reports from the past week. A low growl built in his chest, a sound of pure, grinding frustration.
His outpost, The Gorge Watch, was supposed to be a deterrent. A statement of Tanigakure's presence in the wake of growing tensions. Things were going well after the reinforcements sent by the village. Sato Ren had taken over the dam's engineering, and the scheme would have yielded a swift economic boost for Tanigakure.
The brilliant, ambitious plan concocted by that strange Dotuki boy, Fang, and supported by his teacher. Hubei Emi, his teacher and a pillar of their border strength, was dead—killed by a child from Amegakure. Fang was missing, presumed dead or captured. The Emi clan was in mourning and uproar. The Dotuki elders were demanding answers, their prize heir gone.
Everything was exposed. Buried, yes, but at what cost?
The dam no longer was theirs. Their territory dwindling by the day, their patrols reduced to a game of hide-and-seek, the individual force of the deployed teams of Amegakure far surpassing that of Tanigakure.
Everything was falling apart.
The reports spoke of losses. Not grand battles, but death by a thousand cuts. Efficient, silent eliminations of patrols.
He looked at the map.
The Nagare Dam now flew the Amegakure flag. Their patrols, emboldened, probed deeper. And these new units… they fought differently. The report mentioned a senbon specialist using an umbrella. That was the Haribako clan. And the genin cell he led was too coordinated, too clean. Similar reports showed emergence of a Hakko-led genin cell that was making bloodbath too.
Then there was the Shikabane chunin who was tearing apart outposts using the corpses of the fallen.
And the infamous chunin who had killed Hubei.
They are monsters, all of them...
"Commander," a chunin said, entering the command hut, his face grim. "Another message from the central valley. The Mizuchi clan head reiterates: we are to hold the line. No provocative actions. The council is still… debating the fallout from the dam."
"Debating?" Boro snarled, slamming a fist on the table. "While my genins are picked off one by one? What do they expect me to hold the line with? Hopes and prayers? The Emi are broken. The Dotuki are licking their wounds. We have no jonin to spare!"
The chunin flinched but held his ground. "They say reinforcements are being assembled from the southern reserves, but it will take time. The… the Tanikage is also advocating for a more ... passive approach. He and the elders are hesitant… after the last disaster"
That freaking scheme.
Boro's lip curled. Fang had been one genius strategist. His plan, as brilliant as it was, was reckless. The consequences were paid with blood. His ambition had drawn them all into this quagmire.
He couldn't trust the southern reinforcements with the border.
He looked out the open flap of the hut at the pouring rain, mirroring the storm in his heart. His outpost was undermanned, demoralized, and caught between an enemy growing sharper by the day and a village leadership paralyzed by political divide and indecision.
The pressure was a physical weight on his shoulders. He was a Mizuchi, deadly. But even smoke could be dispersed with a strong enough gale of wind.
He grabbed a fresh scroll and a brush, his movements heavy.
"To the Tanigakure Council and the Office of the Tanikage," he wrote, his characters stark and desperate. "The Gorge Watch is collapsing. We have lost operational control of the central canal network. Enemy hunter-cell tactics are inflicting unsustainable casualties. Current forces are insufficient for defense, let alone deterrence. The Emi and Dotuki initiative has failed catastrophically and left us exposed. I formally request immediate reinforcement: one jonin and two additional chunin squads minimum. If support is not forthcoming, I cannot guarantee the integrity of the Land of River's eastern border within the next moon. The enemy is no longer just holding. They are hunting"
He signed it with his seal, the mark of the Mizuchi clan, feeling not like a stamp of authority, but like an epitaph. He handed the scroll to the chunin. He was from the Fukuhara clan.
"Send it. Fastest bird. Mark it 'Eyes Only – Council.'"
He then looked at the map of his crumbling sector, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for himself and the relentless rain.
"What are you building over there, Batto?", he muttered, "What kind of monsters did you unleash on the borders?"