The Sand ninja didn't deliver the intel to Chiyo until nightfall.
Rewind to the afternoon.
Konoha's Ninja Academy was already on break, and in theory it should have been empty.
Yet right now, one classroom was packed.
They weren't students who still hadn't graduated—most of them were all-round jōnin wearing green flak vests.
The few not wearing vests were also all-round jōnin; they simply didn't like wearing them, the way Gojo Yoru didn't.
For example, the Konoha Sannin, who had squeezed in time to return for the jōnin meeting, were unusually not wearing vests or battle armor today.
At the front of the room, Sarutobi Hiruzen and two elders sat behind a long table, discussing various issues with the assembled jōnin.
Most of those topics were war-related.
"I have a proposal—"
As another agenda item ended, Tsunade suddenly stood up. Under everyone's gaze, she said:
"I want to reform the Ninja Academy's current training system."
At that, everyone's eyes sharpened.
Hiruzen, wearing the Hokage's hat, spoke seriously. "State your idea, Jōnin Tsunade."
"I want the Academy to reduce some unnecessary courses and add elective classes, so every student who enrolls can quickly learn their chakra nature, discover and cultivate talents based on interests, and form clubs—so after class they can talk freely, discuss, learn from each other, compete, and grow…"
Tsunade slowly explained the reform plan she had refined over the past few months—asking Gojo Yoru for advice again and again until it was polished.
The jōnin in the room who came from ordinary backgrounds—who had only made it here through talent and hard work—grew brighter and brighter in the eyes as they listened.
Orochimaru and Jiraiya stared at Tsunade in surprise, as if meeting their childhood friend for the first time.
Such forward-thinking ideas—and they would give students from ordinary homes and non-clan ninja families an opportunity closer to what clan heirs had.
Only the jōnin representatives from major clans, who had come on behalf of their clan heads, wore grim faces.
If Tsunade weren't the First Hokage's granddaughter and the Senju's representative, they would have already held a grudge against her.
Her elective-course reform was practically an attempt to break the clans' monopolies over key departments.
Those clans controlled important positions precisely because of bloodline limits and secret arts—innate "specialties."
Civilians only rarely got into that circle, and only if they were exceptional geniuses.
But now Tsunade wanted to help commoners identify their talents and cultivate their own specialties inside the Academy.
Maybe it wouldn't shake clan power in the short term, but in the long term? Hard to say.
Hiruzen stared at Tsunade, expression unreadable, but inside he was thrilled.
Her proposal opened his eyes.
Yes, it would also affect his own influence—and the elder council families' control—but it could stabilize his Hokage position even more by rapidly elevating Konoha's civilian ninja.
He could also place exceptionally talented "seedlings" into certain departments, slowly form factions, and dilute the clans' power.
And with a ninja war underway, he wouldn't have to watch clan leaders' faces anymore.
Hiruzen made his decision instantly.
But outwardly, his expression and gaze remained unchanged.
When Tsunade finished, Hiruzen scanned the classroom and asked, "What do you all think?"
"I support Tsunade-sama's proposal."
A young man in a green flak vest with long silver-white hair stood up to speak.
As the first to support, he drew Tsunade's attention.
But she only glanced at him, gave a brief smile, and looked away.
No one had more confidence in this proposal than Tsunade—especially in a setting like today. Even if Hiruzen wanted to protect clan interests, he couldn't stop it.
"Seconded."
"Seconded."
"I also agree."
One jōnin after another raised their hands to vote—including Jiraiya and Orochimaru.
Today's meeting was mainly about war; Tsunade's proposal was an "accident" dropped into the agenda.
The clan heads who weren't participating directly in the war had only sent a single representative jōnin.
There weren't many major clans in Konoha, and the number of jōnin they controlled barely passed a dozen.
And the elder council family representatives were seated at the long table at the front.
The rest of the jōnin were from ordinary homes or non-clan ninja families.
They all knew how bitter their own paths had been—becoming high-level Konoha leadership had relied on talent and luck.
But having talent didn't mean their children would too.
If Tsunade's proposal passed, their descendants would benefit—how could these jōnin oppose it?
It was a landslide victory.
Seeing that the vast majority voted in favor, Hiruzen finally smiled.
"Since everyone agrees, I will adopt this proposal, reform the Academy's training system, and implement it as soon as possible."
"Any other issues or proposals?"
By the time the jōnin meeting ended, it was dusk.
The jōnin filed out of the Academy like students leaving school.
A few didn't linger in the village, planning to return to the border today.
The Konoha Sannin, as commanders, walked unhurriedly toward an izakaya.
Their mood was completely different from a few months ago.
Because—Tsunade had already developed the antidote formula.
Using these months of probing and push-pull, Konoha had built several production lines and manufactured large quantities of antidote.
It still couldn't fully cover all three fronts, but the line facing the Land of Rain already had multiple antidote vials per person.
Unless Hanzō moved to other fronts, allied with the Lands of Wind and Earth, or fought two nations plus the Land of Fire at once, his near-invincible strategic deterrence from months ago was gone.
From early in the year to now, the war had lasted over eight months.
Thanks to scouts and Anbu, "the salamander needs five minutes to refill its poison gas" was no longer a secret known only to Sunagakure.
Hanzō had lost the power to fight an entire nation alone.
The Sannin no longer had to flee the moment they saw him, and could finally exhale—handing the running of the border base over to the command teams.
That was why they could return for a jōnin meeting at all.
"Where's Yoru?" Tsunade asked on the way to the izakaya, as the Sannin passed Gojo Yoru's house.
Seeing the lights off and no chakra presence, Tsunade—who had been about to invite him to celebrate dinner—turned to Orochimaru.
If you looked closely, Tsunade had changed a bit compared to a few months ago.
Back then she wore either heavy battle armor or just a white shirt. Her pale-blonde hair was usually tied in a thick ponytail.
Now she still wore a white shirt, but with a dark-blue cardigan layered over it, and her hair was straight and down.
Even the way she addressed Gojo Yoru had shifted: from "Gojo brat," to "Yoru brat," and now simply "Yoru," the same way Orochimaru spoke.
Clearly, after months of "asking him things," they'd become acquaintances.
But the biggest change was on Tsunade's forehead—there was a faint bluish-purple diamond mark, the early sign of a nearly completed Strength of a Hundred Seal.
Tsunade had begun training it only in the past few months, with Yoru's advice and help.
In less than four months, with Senju chakra reserves, top-tier medical knowledge, and Yoru's guidance, Tsunade had surpassed Yoru's year of effort.
Once she completed the seal, her appearance would remain fixed for decades at that perfect stage—still carrying youth's afterglow, yet with the first bloom of mature beauty.
Because in canon, even after the Second Great Ninja War ended, Tsunade hadn't completed the seal yet. By the time she did, she'd already passed that golden bloom.
Hearing Tsunade's question, Orochimaru replied lightly, "A few days ago, after sending us back, he went to carry out a secret mission."
"What mission?" Tsunade and Jiraiya asked, curious.
"It's secret. How would I know?" Orochimaru said, unusually at a loss for words—then gave an indirect answer.
"Sarutobi-sensei hinted: if it's completed perfectly, it counts as super S-rank merit. He'd be allowed to exchange it for one technique from the Sealing Scroll or the forbidden technique vault. If it fails, it'll be treated as an ordinary B-rank mission."
"Super S-rank?" Both of them widened their eyes.
Jiraiya blurted, "He's only a special jōnin—Sensei sent him on something that serious? Don't tell me he's infiltrating a major village to assassinate a Kage, or a jinchūriki, or a commander!"
Even among S-rank missions, there were "super S-rank" missions—more dangerous, with consequences that could affect an entire village or nation. Typically, only a Kage or a Kage-candidate could complete them.
Orochimaru waved it off. "Only 'perfect success' makes it super S-rank. It's not as extreme as you're imagining."
"And with his ability and personality… are you truly worried he'll get into trouble?"
"Haha—true." Jiraiya scratched his head and laughed. "That kid is so cautious—if he isn't sure, he won't even touch it."
Tsunade smiled beautifully too, hands in her cardigan pockets.
…
Deep in the night.
Land of Rain remained under dark clouds, with rain falling across many regions.
But the neighboring Land of Rivers was silent—so quiet even forest animals had gone to sleep.
It was August 16, the full moon hanging high.
Moonlight spread like silver gauze across dense vegetation and mountain ridges.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—
Black afterimages flickered through the mountains.
The tearing air sound was almost nonexistent. The chakra control was terrifying—like ghosts melted into darkness.
After who knew how long, those figures slipped into the shadows and vanished—either hiding with Stealth Technique or disappearing outright.
Inside the body of a certain mountain was an artificially carved cavern, lit by dim lamps.
More than fifty ninja stood within, wearing Anbu attire and animal masks—no one could tell whether they were real Anbu or not.
In their midst stood Ebizō, completely unmasked.
When all the masked members returned, one who seemed to be the captain knelt on one knee and reported:
"Ebizo-sama. After three hours of probing, we can confirm there are no artificial caverns or barrier traces within a twenty-kilometer radius underground or in the mountain."
"No one within twenty kilometers?" Ebizō's face finally changed, disbelief flashing in his eyes.
"Has the Hyūga's long-range vision exceeded the limits in our intel? Or was it truly just coincidence?"
The squad he brought were elites among elites: long-cultivated assets, high-tier power that hadn't revealed itself in war yet, and Anbu directly under the Kazekage.
Each had either powerful combat ability or unique skills—top-tier specialists.
If even they couldn't find anything, it meant there truly was nothing.
And the "cleaner" it looked, the more suspicious Ebizō became.
After thinking, he spoke:
"Shinta. Hikō. You two use Hiding like a Mole to slip into that area. Have shadow clones use unsealing to open two of the super-large scrolls and confirm whether they hold strategic supplies—and whether they carry Flying Thunder God formulas."
"If there's no problem, bring those two scrolls back and notify us."
"During the process, don't expose your real bodies, and don't make contact with that squad. Their scent may already be marked—barriers might not block it."
Ebizō thought of the Aburame clan.
They possessed a near-extinct insect called the Mikōchū—its sense of smell was said to be a thousand times stronger than a ninja dog's, capable of tracking any specific scent it had once contacted.
If Konoha deployed those insects, they might already have the squad's scent; even from twenty kilometers away, their location could be known.
"Yes."
The two masked Anbu bowed, then slowly sank into the ground.
As their heads fully disappeared, the four Anbu sitting cross-legged in the cave's corners—maintaining seals for the barrier—briefly changed one hand sign. In less than a second, they returned to the original seal.
About an hour and a half later, one of the barrier-maintainers spoke:
"Ebizo-sama. They're back."
"How is it?"
"Chakra signature and intensity unchanged. It's Shinta and Hikō's real bodies."
"Let them in."
"Yes."
With another hand-seal adjustment, Shinta and Hikō soon surfaced from the ground.
On their backs, strapped upright, were enormous scrolls nearly as tall as they were.
Shinta's voice shook with excitement.
"Ebizo-sama—the scrolls are strategic supplies. The shadow clone inspection confirms none of the contents carry Flying Thunder God formulas."
Ebizō smiled.
"Excellent—"
He didn't get to finish.
A voice slid into the cave.
"Yeah, very excellent. Didn't expect it'd be you, you old scheming bastard."
Ebizō's pupils began to contract instinctively—needle-thin.
His joy turned to terror.
But both the pupil contraction and facial shift happened strangely slowly.
As if—
Time itself had frozen.
Then within Ebizō's field of view, the dimly lit cave was suddenly filled with black line-traces—faint arcs of black lightning crackling around them.
The lines curved and spread like electric whips, crawling outward.
It looked like an artist drawing wavy lines onto a frozen cartoon character—except every line came with black lightning effects.
The traces stretched to the edge of Ebizō's vision—reaching the far wall—then stopped.
And there, a figure was standing.
Black lightning danced around his body. In his hand was a samurai sword—hilt and blade both pitch-black.
Black lightning wrapped the blade too, as if coated in a dark Lightning Release nature transformation.
The figure turned around to face Ebizō.
The turning speed was normal.
But Ebizō's vision began to tilt left and right, darkness swallowing it.
Before his sight fully blurred away, Ebizō saw the Anbu to either side—the places where those black line-traces passed—had detached cleanly from their bodies.
The cut surfaces were smooth and straight, with no spray of blood.
As if it wasn't a physical cut at all, but something broken down by a force of rules.
In his final moment, Ebizō didn't think of his sister.
He thought, with sudden understanding:
It wasn't time freezing.
It was that his nerves were too slow, and the enemy's speed was too fast—so fast that he was already diced apart before his expression could even finish changing.
Like Ebizō, the Anbu around him also "went" without even completing a reaction.
Before he could analyze what that power was, Ebizō's soul fell into the Pure Land.
Along with him, the fifty Anbu—standing in two neat rows and filling most of the cave—also died.
Only the four Anbu in the cave corners—maintaining the barrier—managed to complete an expression change.
But their reactions were still awful.
Or rather—
They were scared stupid.
When four kunai rapidly filled their vision, they finally snapped back—too late.
Flash—
A black flash and a flicker of black lightning cut through their eyes.
All four heads fell to the ground almost simultaneously, rolling a few turns.
If you removed their masks, you'd see their faces frozen mid-horror.
Amid the mangled bodies, Gojo Yoru stood holding a chakra blade that didn't have a single drop of blood on it.
A thrilled smile slowly spread across his face, and with the black lightning around him it looked like a serial killer's grin.
"Holy shit… that felt amazing. I didn't wait all day for nothing!"
Yoru cursed loudly and swung his chakra blade a few times.
If not for the gore everywhere, he would've wanted to spin around on the spot just to vent the excitement.
He'd cut too satisfyingly.
Using Dimensional Slash in a cramped space packed with people—an opportunity like that didn't come twice.
Ever since developing it, Yoru didn't know how many times he'd dreamed of this exact scenario—now the dream had become reality.
And these guys weren't random nobodies either: animal masks, "Anbu-looking," a lineup even more luxurious than his fantasies.
After secretly tailing the two Anbu all the way here using intangibility and Earth Hiding, and confirming the cave was full of real experts, Yoru didn't hesitate.
He released his Space–Time Strength of a Hundred Seal, activated intangibility and Dimensional Slash, and even fused space–time chakra with Lightning Release chakra—pushing his silent speed to the absolute limit.
That feeling—full power, instant-killing a pile of elites—made him shake with exhilaration.
Especially because he'd been shadowing that special-jōnin squad since daytime, following them from the Land of Fire into the Land of Rivers.
If the supplies hadn't all been "tagged," and if he hadn't reported his plan to Hiruzen in advance—getting the Hokage's approval and encouragement, plus the ability to call support at any time to minimize losses even if something went wrong—Yoru wouldn't have dared be this bold.
Even so, the pressure had been heavy.
But the plan went perfectly. The squad brought the supplies to their secret base.
During the stakeout, Yoru had teleported out countless times to recover space–time chakra. The tension never stopped building.
Now, with this ultimate slash, he released all that built-up emotion in one swing—doubling the pleasure.
For a moment, he felt like everything from his past life—men and women alike—wasn't even worth mentioning compared to this.
~~~
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