Iwa-nin came quickly and retreated just as fast. Konoha's army pursued them all the way to the border, but Iwa-nin showed no intention of fighting further and continued their withdrawal. A few who lagged were struck down or captured by Konoha's pursuit squads.
The battle of thousands of shinobi had lasted barely half an hour before it ended.
Such a result left Jiraiya and the others dumbfounded. No one could understand what had just happened. Even Jiraiya had asked Lock to chase after them to see if Iwa had laid a trap.
Lock pursued all the way to the border but found nothing suspicious. Only after confirming that the Iwa-nin had completely withdrawn—crossing into the Land of Grass—did he return.
"They really didn't stop?" Jiraiya asked, disbelief written on his face.
Lock shook his head. "Not at all. They didn't even fall back to their previous strongholds. They just kept retreating. I was cautious in case of an ambush, but I can confirm—they pulled back a long way."
"It seems Shikaku's guess was right," Jiraiya muttered. "Iwa's assault was just a feint—they're after something else. Lock, circle the border again. If you find anything unusual, report immediately."
"Yes, Jiraiya-sensei." Lock gave a quick nod and disappeared into the forest once more.
By nightfall, he returned to town and went straight to the temporary command post, where Jiraiya and the senior officers were gathered.
"Lock, what did you find?" Jiraiya asked at once.
Lock shook his head. "Nothing. I scouted for hours, but Iwa-nin seemed to have vanished. I even crossed into the Land of Grass to check—still nothing."
Mitokado Homura frowned. "Are we sure there's even a problem? Maybe Iwa realized they couldn't win and decided to retreat."
Jiraiya shot him a look. "Then how do you explain why they attacked even after we spotted their movements? That makes no sense."
Homura had no answer.
Jiraiya's tone grew serious. "Whatever Iwa's plan is, we can't drop our guard. Send out more reconnaissance teams and report back to the village immediately. We need to know if anything else has changed."
Before, he had thought Nara Shikaku might be overthinking things. But now, after seeing Iwa's strange behavior, he was convinced something was off.
The earlier offensives had been ferocious—fights to the death. But this one… it was like they were just testing the waters. After losing so many men, they simply retreated without warning. It didn't add up.
The more Jiraiya thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. But without new intelligence, all he could do was wait.
The meeting soon ended, and everyone returned to rest, preparing in case of another attack—though the likelihood seemed low.
Compared to Jiraiya's worries, Lock's mind was much calmer. He didn't have to concern himself with grand strategy—his job was to scout and strike when needed.
He had slain over thirty Iwa-nin this time, including several during the pursuit after the main battle. Only one had been of notable strength—a jōnin-level opponent who nearly took him down in return.
After so many battles, Lock could feel his chakra reserves running low. He had fought continuously, using high-level techniques without pause. Even with his naturally fast chakra recovery, the strain was heavy.
He sighed, sitting down on a rooftop, looking up at the night sky. "Chakra consumption's getting out of hand…"
He recalled the old advice from his sensei—never to rely solely on raw power or speed. Even the fastest ninja needed to pace himself.
In truth, Lock had little use for the standard battle gear most jonin preferred. His body flicker technique already outpaced most, and with his short-range teleportation, speed-enhancing gear was redundant.
If anything, he preferred equipment that aided chakra recovery or long-distance mobility—something to sustain him in prolonged missions, or help him rejoin allies faster after reconnaissance.
Still, he thought with a faint smirk, "What shoes would even suit me now?"
Arcane sandals that supported chakra flow? Travel boots made for long-range scouts? Neither truly fit his style.
He glanced down at his worn but reliable ninja sandals, the same kind he'd worn since his early missions. "Guess these will do," he murmured. "Speed's not everything."
He leaned back, closing his eyes briefly as the night breeze swept past. Tomorrow would bring new orders and perhaps, new enemies. For now, rest was the most valuable weapon he had.
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