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Kazuki: "..."
Izumi: "..."
Describing being afraid of your wife and getting beaten by her in such a dead-serious tone—these two really take the cake.
"In any case, both of you be careful. Especially you, Shikaku—don't accidentally 'take a fall' inside the Hokage office building while I'm gone."
Kazuki, rendered completely speechless, stayed quiet for a long moment before finally speaking again, his tone slow and resigned.
Fine. You say it was a fall, so sure, it was a fall.
For the sake of preserving your dignity, I can't be bothered to keep pressing the issue.
As long as you don't "trip and fall" while working in the Hokage building, we're good.
"..."
Lord Advisor, if you don't bring that up again, we can still be friends.
Seeing Kazuki stand up to leave, Shikaku suddenly panicked:
"Lord Advisor—what about the time frame?"
Kazuki had told him he'd be gone for roughly three days.
But was that even remotely possible?
The journey there would take a full day, and the return another full day.
That already ate up two-thirds of the time!
Leaving just one day for actual work? Come on.
This had to be a joke.
Three days was clearly impossible; dragging things out was inevitable.
The only question was whether Kazuki had a conscience and might limit the delay to a few extra days.
What Shikaku wanted wasn't Kazuki's conscience—he wanted a concrete number.
I'd rather you set a longer, fixed deadline than give me some vague "I'll be reasonable and see how things go" nonsense.
"Ten days..."
Kazuki was speechless. His little scheme had been ruthlessly exposed by Shikaku, leaving him no choice but to name a firm timeline.
His original plan had been simple: announce three days, spend three days traveling there, three days "working," and three days coming back.
No matter how you counted it—three days!
But since Shikaku had called him out so directly, fine—round it up to a nice even number. Ten days.
"You guarantee you'll return to the village within ten days? No extensions?"
Shikaku, who had been burned before and learned his lesson, wasn't falling for any vague promises this time.
"No extensions..."
"Good."
With that assurance, Shikaku finally relaxed.
At least in this area, Kazuki's word still carried weight. He wouldn't make a promise and then conveniently disappear or make excuses later.
If he said ten days, he would be back within ten days.
"Why do I get the feeling that Lord Shikaku is terrified you might run off for good?"
After Shikaku and Inoichi left, Izumi—who had been holding back laughter the entire time—finally let out a soft giggle. Those two seniors were hilarious.
"He'd be an idiot not to be worried."
Even with his usual serious expression, Kazuki couldn't help but crack a small smile when he recalled the pitiful state of Shikaku and Inoichi earlier.
"Tsunade ran off, and who knows when she'll come back. Most likely she won't return until her hemophobia is properly treated. The shinobi world is in chaos right now. It's not the time to hold an election for a new Hokage. If I disappeared too, Konoha would be left leaderless. The slightest misstep could spiral into catastrophe. That guy Shikaku would probably chain me to the village gates if he could, never letting me leave. If it weren't for the front-line situation requiring my presence, he absolutely would never have agreed to let me go at a time like this."
"Huh?! Is Lady Tsunade's condition really that bad? She won't… something bad won't happen to her, right?"
Izumi had originally assumed Tsunade's absence was just her blowing off steam—once she got tired of wandering, she'd come home.
Hearing Kazuki explain it this way, she suddenly realized things were far more serious.
"How could a mental illness not be serious?"
Kazuki gave a small shake of his head.
"This kind of condition can only be resolved by her own determination. Other people can't help her much."
He had considered the original plan from the old stories—staging a dramatic confrontation to force Tsunade to confront and overcome her hemophobia in one go.
But after thinking it over, he hadn't dared to try. The risk of things going horribly wrong was too high.
Besides, Tsunade had seemed perfectly fine in daily life—no signs of episodes—so the matter had simply been left alone.
Who could have predicted that, after years of accumulated stress, she would suddenly snap and disappear?
If worst came to worst, maybe throw Naruto at her. Sometimes dumb luck could accidentally cure something like hemophobia.
Whether or not to actually send Naruto to Tsunade was still something he needed to think about carefully.
For now, he'd head to the forward camp first and observe how Naruto performed there.
It just so happened that Jiraiya couldn't easily leave the camp either, so he wouldn't be able to give Naruto much direct instruction in the short term.
At this stage, if Naruto could even manage to produce a Rasengan, that would already be impressive.
What Kazuki didn't understand, though, was why the Rasengan was supposedly so difficult.
It didn't seem that hard.
Izumi had already packed everything he needed. With her and a small ANBU squad in tow, Kazuki slipped out of Konoha through one of the hidden ANBU passages and set off for the border camp.
Bringing the ANBU team had been Shikaku's firm insistence. Kazuki couldn't talk him out of it, so he reluctantly agreed.
Personally, Kazuki would have preferred to travel alone.
But to keep his extremely useful high-level tool—Shikaku—calm and cooperative, a small compromise was necessary.
At the forward camp, aside from the addition of several thousand more ninja and noticeably higher consumption of supplies, nothing else had changed significantly.
On the surface, everything appeared calm. Yet Fugaku and Hiashi, who were jointly overseeing the entire operation, were starting to feel the pressure.
They were gradually realizing that once the elite forces returned to camp, they were losing their grip—slowly but surely.
To put it bluntly, their ability to intimidate and command was no longer sufficient.
Ordinary ninja wouldn't dare step out of line, but when thousands of elite shinobi flooded back into the camp, problems began to emerge.
Fortunately, maintaining basic stability in the short term wasn't too difficult.
But if Fugaku and Hiashi had to manage these thousands of ninja long-term, trouble was inevitable.
"Iwagakure has already started sending people to rebuild their camps and establish new defensive lines. Should we dispatch teams to harass and raid them?"
Inside the command tent, Hiashi, Fugaku, Orochimaru, and a few others sat together discussing the matter.
Neither Hiashi nor Fugaku dared summon all the squad leaders at once—the tent wouldn't even hold them, and more people meant more complications. Who knew what kind of drama might erupt.
In just a few short days, both Fugaku and Hiashi had come to a sobering realization: controlling the entire camp was proving more difficult than they had anticipated.
"I have no opinion. You two decide."
Orochimaru's mission was already complete. He had no desire to get involved in anything else—doing so would only invite accusations of trying to seize power.
Besides, almost no one respected him or followed his orders. All his talent and ability went to waste.
So he decided to simply sit back and do nothing—wait for the village's next instructions and be done with it.
Once everything wrapped up, he could return to his research in peace.
Plenty of experimental subjects, plenty of funding—what was there to fuss over?
You all handle your business. I neither support nor oppose.
Hiashi had already mentally prepared himself for Orochimaru's attitude.
A flicker of disappointment passed through Fugaku's eyes—this wasn't the outcome he wanted.
But if Orochimaru refused to cooperate, what could he do?
Force the issue with direct orders?
No one would listen.
I know you all don't respect me, and I don't care—but don't expect me to respect or obey you either.
That was Orochimaru's current mindset in a nutshell.
With Orochimaru opting out, Hiashi and Fugaku had no choice but to set the matter aside for now.
"Right now the camp has far too many ninja. Supply consumption has already become a serious burden, and the village hasn't made any corresponding arrangements."
The discussion continued, voices low and tense. Everyone understood the unspoken truth hanging over the tent: without decisive leadership, without someone who could truly command respect and fear from these battle-hardened elites, the camp's fragile order could unravel at any moment.
The arrival of thousands of returning elite forces had shifted the balance. What had once been a manageable forward position was rapidly turning into a powder keg of ambition, frustration, and barely restrained egos.
Fugaku rubbed his temple, exchanging a glance with Hiashi. Both men knew they were in over their heads—not because they lacked skill, but because they lacked the overwhelming personal authority needed to keep thousands of high-level shinobi in line.
Orochimaru, lounging in the corner with that trademark lazy smirk, offered nothing more. His silence was louder than any refusal.
Outside, the camp buzzed with controlled activity—patrols moving in precise formation, supply teams unloading carts, medics tending to the wounded—but beneath it all ran an undercurrent of unease.
Everyone could feel it.
The longer the Hokage and Advisor were absent, the more the cracks would show.