Only after hundreds of Suna-nin had rushed past in a disorganized swarm did Aburame Tetsumaru step out from the sparse marsh shrubs. Not far away, Uchiha Akira and Kurama Yun emerged as well.
They had seen it clearly: the Suna-nin who just bolted past had completely lost their cohesion. Out of eight or nine hundred shinobi, barely any had managed to maintain a squad structure.
Shinobi like these were no longer dangerous; they were like a herd of stampeding cattle. As long as one didn't try to block them head-on, they were easy pickings—the perfect harvest for military merits.
Uchiha Akira cared deeply about his record. It was unavoidable; it was simply the nature of the Uchiha clan to be competitive. Kurama Yun, on the other hand, was just a few points away from a promotion to Chunin, which would significantly raise her pay, status, and benefits. Both were practically vibrating with the urge to give chase.
Tetsumaru's mission record, however, had long since hit the ceiling. He didn't care about merits, but since there was no immediate danger, he wasn't going to go out of his way to antagonize his subordinates.
That said, Tetsumaru had watched enough nature documentaries to know that tailing a massive herd was rarely a good idea. The primary issue was the sheer number of "predators" competing for the same prey. His squad only had three people, and they lacked a Jonin; they wouldn't be getting the meat or the soup—they'd just be eating the dust left behind by the bigger squads.
"We're circling around to the front," Tetsumaru commanded. "We'll find a suitable spot to set up an ambush and intercept the stragglers."
"Yes, sir," came the reply, though it was laced with hesitation. It wasn't a sincere agreement. After all, the enemy's shadows were right in front of them; why take the long way around?
Thirteen and fourteen-year-old kids... so young, Tetsumaru thought.
Eleven-year-old Tetsumaru didn't bother explaining. He simply took the lead. In times like these, talk was cheap. He wasn't a protagonist; he lacked the legendary power of "Talk no Jutsu." He would lead by action. Once the fight was over, the results would speak for themselves.
Two Suna-nin ran through the marsh in a staggered formation. To maintain their speed, they sprinted across the water, finally clearing the wetlands just as their chakra reserves began to bottom out.
Seeing a relatively dry, treeless slope ahead, they both exhaled in relief. Once they crossed this ridge, they would be back in the mountainous territory controlled by Sunagakure.
They came to a halt to regroup. This slope was the final—and most likely—stretch for an ambush. They needed to be at their best to clear it quickly.
The two shinobi propped up a waterproof tarp to create a makeshift shelter, ducking underneath to drink water and eat dry rations. They rested for five minutes. Finally, they each swallowed a soldier pill and reorganized their tool pouches before setting out again.
They left the shelter behind but marked the tarp with a Suna code. If fellow Suna-nin came by later, their comrades could save time and rest. If Konoha ninjas arrived, it would serve as a decoy to buy more time.
Refreshed, the two ninjas resumed their formation and dashed toward the crest of the hill.
They crossed the slope with cautious precision. Everything was normal. Nothing happened. The tension that had been gripping their hearts finally began to ease.
Their footsteps lightened. Their facial muscles relaxed. Their lips curled into smiles, then widened into grins, and finally, they broke into boisterous laughter.
Genjutsu!! We've been ambushed!!!
Both ninjas realized something was wrong simultaneously. They desperately surged their chakra to disrupt the illusion, pushing so hard they coughed up blood, but it was already too late.
As the Genjutsu shattered, the two Suna-nin realized they hadn't crossed the slope at all; they were only halfway up. Worse, both had been struck in the throat by kunai. Blood sprayed onto the ground like an open tap.
Enraged and terrified, and knowing they wouldn't survive, they both clutched their wounds with one hand while drawing kunai rigged with explosive tags with the other. They intended to take the enemy with them.
But before they could throw, the massive blood loss plunged them into unconsciousness.
It was a mercy, really. They died with the hope that their revenge had succeeded. In reality, they were still under the lingering effects of the Genjutsu; their final counter-attack missed by over sixty degrees.
The ambush was a perfect victory. It was so easy that Akira and Yun almost couldn't believe it.
The strategy was simple. Tetsumaru had selected the location and ordered Kurama Yun to set a pre-placed Genjutsu trap—a slow-acting but powerful illusion. Tetsumaru had gambled that any veteran Suna-nin reaching this point would stop to rest. A ninja who charged through without stopping was either an elite expert or a total rookie.
The difference between the two was night and day, identifiable just by their movement. If it was an elite, they'd let them go—they couldn't win that fight anyway. If it was a rookie, they'd strike immediately.
Any ninja who stayed at the bottom of the slope to recover would fall under the Genjutsu's influence. The illusion was strong enough that it would only break upon taking fatal damage.
Even if they broke the Genjutsu, it didn't matter—they were already dying. At that point, Uchiha Akira was responsible for hitting them with a quick Sharingan Genjutsu to scramble their sense of direction, preventing any suicidal counter-attacks from hitting home.
It was a simple, practical tactic with extraordinary results. This was the third wave of Suna-nin they had trapped. In total, five Suna-nin had been eliminated, and Tetsumaru—serving as the final insurance—hadn't even needed to lift a finger.
The two subordinates were ecstatic. Their trust in Tetsumaru grew by leaps and bounds.
They hid the bodies, cleaned the blood, falsified tracks over the ridge, and went back into hiding. This time, Tetsumaru intentionally left the Suna shelter standing. After three waves of enemies, such a facility appearing "naturally" made sense.
"One last ambush. This time, do not move until you receive my direct command."
"Understood?"
"Understood!"
However, Squad Aburame did not attack the fourth wave. Tetsumaru didn't even have to give the order to stand down, because the newcomers were the "Flower of the Sand," Chiyo, and her wounded brother, Ebizo.
This duo of top-tier puppeteers traveled with thirteen high-grade puppets, making them as formidable as five standard squads. Faced with a force like that, even a trio of elite Jonin would have steered clear.
Recognizing them, the three Konoha ninjas didn't just hold back—they barely dared to breathe. They squeezed their eyes shut to avoid any visual focus that might trigger a reaction from the experts, shivering as they watched the two Kage-level puppeteers pass by.
Finally, the main Konoha pursuit force arrived. Their battle was over.
The ambush point Tetsumaru had chosen was exactly where the designated pursuit limit ended. The victory was decided. Konoha had secured massive gains and it was time to cash in and regroup. Pushing any further would risk a full-scale decisive battle that Konoha wasn't yet ready to fight.
Over half of the defeated Suna-nin had escaped, largely thanks to Chiyo and Ebizo. The two powerful puppeteers had used toxic screens to block the Konoha assault for a full thirty minutes, buying enough time for the retreat at the cost of Ebizo suffering heavy injuries.
The victorious Konoha forces had their own mountain of work: tallying missions, verifying merits, distributing rewards, replenishing supplies, and treating the wounded. Among the casualties was that reckless Hyūga Main House member; three branch members had given their lives to keep him in one piece.
Once the logistics were handled, a victory celebration was held to help the shinobi unwind. At the banquet, a rumor began to spread quietly.
"The one who destroyed the Suna supply depot... it was the White Fang!"
The news traveled like wildfire. Sakumo Hatake, the "White Fang of the Leaf," was the most talked-about ninja of the year.
Last year, the two biggest names were Sakumo, active on the Land of Rivers front, and Uchiha Fugaku on the Land of Waves front. The Mist-nin called Fugaku "Evil Eye," while the Sand had dubbed Sakumo "White Fang."
"White Fang" wasn't necessarily a compliment in Suna; beyond describing his lethal efficiency, it was a curse, wishing he would break like a front tooth hitting a stone.
But this year, Sakumo had been darting between theaters, saving the day wherever he went. Everywhere he appeared, Konoha's enemies suffered horrific losses. His focus on assassinating high-ranking Jonin had left Suna, Mist, and Cloud reeling in pain.
His staggering record had sent his reputation into the stratosphere, leaving "Evil Eye" far behind. The two were no longer in the same league. People viewed Sakumo as a Kage-level power, and talk was already beginning about whether he might succeed the Third as the Fourth Hokage.
At this moment, Sakumo's prestige was no less than that of Minato Namikaze years later.
The only difference was their end: one would be broken by rumors and take his own life, while the other would reach the seat of the Fourth before his untimely death. The disparity was partly because Hiruzen Sarutobi was currently in his prime, whereas later, his declining strength would make it harder to maintain control.
Even at a frontline banquet, alcohol was permitted, though getting drunk was strictly forbidden. Lacking that self-control would lead to severe punishment, including demotions that could even affect one's teammates.
"What? Eleven years old?" Uchiha Akira stared at his cousin, Uchiha Tora, with total disbelief. "My Captain, Aburame Tetsumaru... he's only eleven?"
Akira even pulled out a scroll and wrote "Aburame Tetsumaru" in a blank space just to be sure.
Uchiha Tora shrugged and nodded firmly. "That's him."
I got beaten by that kid before he even entered the Academy, Tora thought. I'd recognize him even if he turned to ash. There's no mistake.
"But... but..." Akira couldn't wrap his head around it.
Tora understood his little cousin's shock. He interrupted, "But his tactics are so veteran, he's so tall, and he's built like a tank, right?"
Akira's eyes were round as saucers as he nodded frantically.
"Tetsumaru is... a freak," Tora said, a lingering shiver in his voice. The beating he'd taken years ago had left quite a shadow on his heart. He had been tracking the progress of this Aburame branch-member who was four years younger than him ever since.
On the other side of the camp, Kurama Yun had gathered the same intel from her girlfriends and was equally stunned.
"So... I'm the big sister?"
Yun suddenly felt a surge of confidence. She was a Chunin now, why should she be afraid of—of—well...
"Good evening, Captain!"
At that exact moment of self-actualization, Tetsumaru walked by, carrying a tray of grilled meat and fruit juice. Their eyes met for a split second through their sunglasses.
Kurama Yun: 140 cm tall, 42 kg. Aburame Tetsumaru: 176 cm tall, 74 kg.
There was a massive thirty-six-centimeter height difference between them. Facing him, that suffocating physical presence instantly crushed Yun's newfound confidence. She immediately pivoted to a bright, subservient smile.
Even with his maturity as a transmigrator, Tetsumaru couldn't fathom the shifting moods of a teenage girl. He only noticed his subordinate looking excited one second and utterly dejected the next. It was bizarre.
Suddenly, a roar of excitement erupted from the edge of the camp.
"The White Fang is here!" "Lord Sakumo has arrived!"
Like fans spotting a celebrity, the ninjas all turned their gaze toward the camp entrance. Younger, hot-blooded ninjas began shouting, "Lord White Fang!"
Tetsumaru set his tray down and stood at attention. A group of ninjas walked in, led by a man with sharp white hair and a short tanto strapped to his back. There was no mistaking him.
He looked exactly like the images Tetsumaru remembered, but the aura was entirely different. In his memories, Sakumo was a gentle, refined man with a kind smile; the man before him was a cold, lethal blade of a youth.
Perhaps because he had just taken lives, a chilling, murderous intent radiated from him, so thick that even the cheers of the crowd began to die down into a respectful silence.
Is this the prestige of a top-tier ninja? Tetsumaru wondered. How far is the gap between us?
Whether it was because Tetsumaru was staring too intensely or because he was subconsciously challenging the aura, Sakumo suddenly noticed him. He fixed Tetsumaru with a direct look.
The hair on Tetsumaru's neck stood on end. His heart constricted, and he forgot to breathe.
It took a long moment before he could finally exhale. He felt his heart thumping wildly against his ribs, and he was drenched in a cold sweat.
Damn, those eyes are sharp. Terrifying. That was way more intense than being stared at by the Hokage and those other eight during the Academy exam.
Sakumo Hatake... is he really this strong?
Sakumo didn't join the banquet. He cut through the crowd and disappeared into his tent. Only then did the ninjas relax, and the festive atmosphere gradually returned.
Tetsumaru picked up his tray of meat again and found a secluded corner to enjoy his meal in peace.