"No. Not a chance. I am not going back to the Land of Vegetables. It's a death trap," Aburame Tetsumaru said, his head shaking back and forth like a rattle.
Orochimaru spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Then I have nothing left for you. Every other mission on the board is within the Land of Rain."
"Anything in the Land of Grass?"
"No."
"How about the Land of Rivers?"
Orochimaru didn't even bother answering this time; he just offered a thin, knowing smile.
Tetsumaru scratched his head and sighed. "Right. My mistake. Missions in the Land of Rivers are handled by the Southern Theater Command." He paused, looking at the Sannin. "Lord Orochimaru, just give it to me straight. What am I supposed to do?"
"It's simple," Orochimaru replied. "You're taking on trainees."
Another graduation season had arrived. This year, the fresh Academy graduates were being funneled directly to the front lines. Over the past two years, graduates had been tossed into the meat grinder as "replacement troops," resulting in a catastrophic casualty rate that had sparked outrage throughout Konoha.
The Hokage himself was deeply displeased with the situation. He had issued a decree changing the protocol for this year's batch: every graduate had to be attached to an experienced Chunin. Furthermore, the survival of these Genin would now be a primary KPI for the Chunin's own performance evaluation.
In the Land of Rain, Deputy Commander Orochimaru was the one tasked with making this happen. Consequently, he had been spending his days hunting down every available Chunin to saddle them with a group of "green" graduates.
Every Chunin had once been a graduate themselves; they knew exactly how much of a headache a bunch of twelve-year-old brats could be.
Moreover, the true elites had already graduated early and been snatched up by Jonin as personal disciples. The ones being handed out to Chunin now were the "average" talents—the late bloomers with no prestigious clan backgrounds or special inheritances. Given the current state of the Academy's curriculum, these kids had practically zero combat utility. Taking them on meant a massive drop in a squad's overall combat power, and if one of them bit the dust, it went on the Chunin's permanent record. No one wanted the job.
Orochimaru was reaching the end of his rope. When Tetsumaru walked in asking for work, it was like a fish leaping onto a hook.
He dumped three graduates onto Tetsumaru in one go, a move that significantly boosted his administrative progress. Before Tetsumaru could even get a word of protest in, the Sannin waved him off and shooed him out of the tent.
Having just bolted back from the Land of Vegetables, Tetsumaru hadn't even caught his breath, let alone caught up on the latest internal policies. He'd walked blindly into Orochimaru's trap and was now staring at an appointment letter with three names on it.
He spent half the day scouring the camp before finally rounding up his new subordinates. Looking at the three Genin—one chubby, one thin, and one tall—Tetsumaru let out a weary breath. "Alright. Introduce yourselves."
The chubby one went first, bowing and scraping before he even opened his mouth. "Captain! I'm Yukimura Saburo. I know a little bit of Earth Style, but my Taijutsu is... well, it's a bit weak. Please look after me!"
Tetsumaru nodded. At least the kid was self-aware. That was a start.
The thin one spoke next. "I'm Nanga. I ranked 97th in my graduation exam. I specialize in Taijutsu, Kenjutsu, and Wind Style."
The last one was a tall, lanky kid with an arrogant streak that rivaled an Uchiha's. He spoke as if every word cost him a week's salary. "Toyohara Saburo. Ranked 90th. Water Style."
Immediately, the two who had boasted about their ranks began glaring at each other. Clearly, there was some pre-existing bad blood from their school days.
Tetsumaru looked them over. Compared to the high-maintenance but highly capable Uchiha Akira and Kurama Yun, these three were essentially "disposable" quality. As they were now, they couldn't survive ten minutes on a real battlefield.
How do I handle this?
The answer was simple: Military Discipline. You don't train ten-year-olds; you break them. And that starts with basic drills.
Some might argue that physical training is redundant for a ninja. They'd be wrong. "Standing at Attention" (military posture) isn't a test of physical strength; it's a test of patience, discipline, and absolute obedience. It doesn't tire the body; it tires the soul.
As for the cardio, Tetsumaru had the Master Roshi template to fall back on. Making three Academy grads run until they collapsed into a dreamless sleep was child's play.
The schedule was as follows:
Morning: No breakfast. Four hours of standing at attention. 30km weighted run.Noon: Lunch.Afternoon: Two hours of standing at attention. Combat drills. 20km weighted run.Evening: Dinner. One hour of standing at attention. 10km weighted run.Night: Sleep.
Once they started to adapt, the schedule remained the same, but the weights were bumped from 30kg to 50kg.
Aside from a routine patrol mission every five days, Tetsumaru kept them in "boot camp" for a full month. The results were undeniable. The three Genin adapted to front-line life at record speed, mostly because they grew to love being sent out on missions—on mission days, they didn't have to stand like statues for seven hours or run 60 kilometers under heavy loads.
Through this period, Tetsumaru got a feel for their personalities. In his estimation, Yukimura Saburo was the only one with a realistic chance of surviving the war. The other two were too full of themselves to last.
Still, he did his duty as a teacher. He gave them pointers on Taijutsu and guided them on which jutsu they should save their mission credits to buy. He didn't bother teaching them his own Kenjutsu (since he barely knew any) or his secret arts.
Orochimaru hadn't lied; the missions assigned to a trainee squad were laughably simple. They were mostly border patrols and sentry duty, often staying within the borders of the Land of Fire. The mission frequency was low, which gave Tetsumaru plenty of time for his own research.
Because of the lack of combat, his insect losses were minimal. He didn't dare rebuild the Broodmother yet—at least not until he solved the "metabolic shutdown" issue that would allow it to hibernate safely. Instead, he focused on the experimental data Orochimaru had provided and the Soft Physique Modification.
Tetsumaru hoped to use the giant snake mutation data to solve two problems: Insect Gigantism and Multi-Rune Capacity.
Breeding giant insects was a fundamental requirement for his Zerg-inspired technology tree. After his encounter with the Raikage, the need had become urgent. Currently, most of his bugs were palm-sized, with a few reaching half a meter. Even with rune reinforcement, they were at the biological limit for their size.
The problem was durability. Unless they were Armor Beetles, a single offensive jutsu would wipe them out. He had to rely on sheer numbers to overwhelm an enemy's chakra. Furthermore, their attack power was "awkward." They could easily kill an average ninja if they swarmed them, but against a monster like the Raikage, they couldn't even break the skin.
If he couldn't hurt the Raikage, he couldn't hurt any Kage.
The Raikage was a close-quarters fighter; his style theoretically made him the most vulnerable to a swarm. A Kage specializing in long-range ninjutsu would likely never even let the bugs get close.
In the shinobi world, every problem can be solved by adding more chakra. To give his bugs more chakra, he needed to give them more mass.
With the snake mutation formulas as a guide, he had the chemical components and the time he needed. Progress was initially fast. He bred a new generation of insects: 3 meters long, weighing 120 kilograms. On paper, they were monsters compared to his palm-sized drones.
In reality, they were useless. No matter how strong or durable they were, their life-support systems couldn't handle the scale. They died simply by existing.
The problem was the biological structure of an insect. It isn't built for gigantism.
Respiration: Giant insects relying on spiracles (breathing holes) would suffocate within minutes of physical exertion.
Digestion: Their metabolic rate was so high that even if they ate 24 hours a day, they would still die of malnutrition.
It was a wall. He realized Orochimaru's snake data wasn't a perfect 1-to-1 match. Snakes have lungs; lungs are infinitely more efficient than spiracles. Snakes are carnivores; a single large meal can sustain them for months. Insects were built differently.
He put the gigantism project on hold.
There was another way to increase lethality: Explosives. Earth's history taught him that nothing survives 10kg of TNT, and if it does, you just use 20kg. But his bugs only weighed 500-1200 grams. Expecting them to carry 10kg of high explosives was a pipe dream. Furthermore, Tetsumaru didn't know how to synthesize TNT. His Landmine Insects used chemical secretions that were boosted by chakra; they were better than black powder but far inferior to paper bombs.
That left him with one final option: Toxins. He'd already used neurotoxins to kill his first wave of enemies. This path was promising. Half of the known insect families were naturally venomous, providing an endless library of biological inspiration. Failing that, he still had his stockpile of Salamander venom.
And so, his life settled into a rhythm: training his Genin, conducting research, and occasionally executing private errands for Orochimaru. Under the Sannin's protection, Tetsumaru enjoyed a surprisingly stable life on the front lines.
The research was slow, but the Genin were coming along.
Of the three, the chubby Yukimura Saburo had the least talent, but he was the hardest worker and the most obedient. Because he actually listened and wasn't afraid to sweat, his progress was steady.
The other two had decent talent but "unpleasant" personalities. They didn't dare defy orders, but they were perpetually skeptical and loved to pick fights with Tetsumaru—and each other. At one point, their bickering almost compromised a mission, earning them a harsh "corrective" punishment from their captain.
Eventually, Tetsumaru stopped bothering to remember their names, referring to them only as "Hey" or "You there." In his eyes, arrogant fools like them wouldn't live long enough for the names to matter. He still did his job—he gave them pointers and guided their growth—but he was no longer emotionally invested.
By the end of the second month, the "Wasteland" toxicity in the Land of Rain had finally begun to dissipate. Konoha and Suna ninjas began making cautious probes back into the territory.
On the eve of the great counter-offensive, a massive political reshuffle occurred within Konoha. The incompetent High Commander—the leader of the anti-Hokage faction—was officially relieved of duty and forced into early retirement.
Orochimaru's contributions during the campaign had been peerless, but he was still considered too young for the top spot. While the front-line ninjas would have welcomed him, the political factions in the rear couldn't accept it. He was passed over for the promotion.
The new High Commander was an old acquaintance: Shimura Danzo.
The reaction from the front-line troops was universal revulsion. This was the man who had been sacked for incompetence, failure, and a total disregard for the lives of his men. How was he back? Had everyone forgotten the "Dark Days" of his previous command?
The protests were immediate. Ninjas who had connections to the Hokage sent letters through every channel they could find. Danzo couldn't intercept them all. A tidal wave of complaints flooded Hiruzen's desk.
The Hokage couldn't ignore the sheer volume of resentment. The troops made a valid point: Danzo wasn't smart enough to out-command Chiyo or Hanzo, and he wasn't strong enough to fight them. Why did they need a "trash" commander? Even the previous guy could at least hold his own against Hanzo for a few minutes.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was caught in a bind. As much as he disliked Danzo's recent track record, Danzo was still the only one he could "trust" with the political weight of the position. He wouldn't replace him.
Instead, the Hokage sent out a flurry of letters to the front-line officers. He used a lot of high-minded, confusing political jargon about "strategic necessity," "temporary measures," and "optimum balances."
But he knew words weren't enough. He had to give them something real.
First, he granted Deputy Commander Orochimaru significantly more autonomy and veto power. Then, he recalled Jiraiya from the Land of Rivers. Finally, Tsunade—having recovered some of her composure—returned to the Land of Rain from the village.
The Sannin were back together. They were the only ones who could truly challenge Hanzo.
With the Sannin gathered and Orochimaru handling the day-to-day command while Danzo wisely stayed out of sight, the army's morale began to stabilize. Konoha finally began to move with the coordination and strength befitting the world's strongest village. They began their push back into the Land of Rain.
Meanwhile, in the Land of Vegetables, the Kazekage and Tsuchikage had fought a month-long stalemate. Countless elite ninjas had died, but neither side could claim victory. Furthermore, the rugged terrain was unsuitable for a large-scale war.
By mutual, unspoken agreement, the two Kage shifted their focus. The Land of Rain—with its open terrain and strategic crossroads—was a much better place for a decisive battle.
The Ame-nin had bought themselves two months of breathing room with their "scorched earth" poison tactics. Amegakure was in ruins, but they had survived. Just as the village leadership was considering opening peace talks, the Konoha and Suna forces returned in full force.
Peace was off the table.
Four different armies prepared for a collision. A new phase of the war was about to begin.