Kiyohara answered without hesitation. "Yeah. More than a few."
Iwagakure's strength had always been the most brutal kind of military doctrine: no delicate special operations, no elegant tactics—just relentless mass production and overwhelming numbers. The most famous example was the force of ten thousand shinobi they had sent to wear down the Third Raikage. Kiyohara couldn't even picture a scene like that properly. A valley crammed wall to wall with ninja, all of them charging through the mountains after one man—would there even be enough room to breathe?
"There really are enemies nearby," Kakashi said quietly, taking Kiyohara's warning as confirmation rather than contradiction.
As they spoke, everyone kept their voices low and their backs angled away from the Iwa shinobi's position. No one wanted to risk being overheard—or worse, having their lips read. In a world where information could kill faster than a blade, even a careless mouth shape could become a fatal mistake.
Minato's gaze swept over the group, and he gave the faintest nod. Only Kakashi and Kiyohara had picked up on the threat immediately. The others had been a step slower.
It was a small detail, but it told him enough. Between Kakashi's squad and Kiyohara's squad, each side now had at least one shinobi with decent reconnaissance instincts. That mattered more than most people realized.
"From here on, our paths won't overlap for much longer," Minato said, his voice calm and steady. "You'll have to handle the trouble in front of you yourselves."
He was doing it on purpose—tempering them while he still could. With the Flying Thunder God Technique, he could intervene the instant anything truly went wrong. As long as he remained nearby, there was room to let them confront real danger with their own hands.
"Understood," Kakashi replied in a low voice.
He moved first, slipping forward with the kind of quiet precision only a prodigy could manage. But the moment he shifted position, shuriken screamed out of the bushes ahead.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Kakashi drew his short blade in one smooth motion and slashed down the three incoming shuriken before they could close on him.
"We've been spotted," Kakashi said, disappointment flickering across his face. He had wanted to steal the initiative. Now they would have to force their way through.
"Heh, then it's finally my turn!"
Obito flashed into action, hands flying through seals. "Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"
A ball of flame burst from his mouth—small, unstable, and embarrassingly underwhelming.
"Cough! Cough—"
He had gotten nervous and messed up the chakra flow. The fire technique that should have been grand and intimidating came out more like a sputtering warning shot.
Across from them, the middle-aged Iwa ninja's face darkened. "Konoha has discovered us," he snapped. "There's no point hiding now. Kill them!"
He had recognized Minato Namikaze at a glance. His original plan had been to stay buried here, wait until Minato left, and then ambush whichever stragglers were unfortunate enough to lag behind. But the instant the Konoha side began that muted little exchange, his battle-hardened instincts had screamed at him—they had already been exposed.
So he had struck first, hoping to seize the advantage.
And failed to catch even one of them.
"Captain!" one of the younger Iwa ninja shouted as he hurled another pair of shuriken.
Kakashi was already moving, ready to cut them down the same way he had the first three—when Kiyohara stepped in.
His hands flashed through the three seals of Dog, Horse, and Rooster. It took him only about one and a half seconds. Then he snatched two metallic shuriken from his pouch and poured Wind Release chakra into them with everything he had.
Whoosh!
The infused shuriken left his hand with a sound sharp enough to split the air. They were faster and far more vicious than ordinary throws, their edges keening under the pressure of condensed wind.
Ever since inheriting part of the rogue Kiyohara's talent, his control over Wind Release chakra had improved by leaps and bounds. A maneuver like this would have been impossible for him before.
Bang! Bang!
One shuriken struck the enemy's first projectile out of the air. The second followed immediately—and the next instant, two violent explosions erupted in front of the young Iwa ninja.
The blast wave tore through the brush, flipping leaves inside out and flattening the nearby grass. The young shinobi took the hit at point-blank range. Smoke rolled up from his torn body.
"What happened?" Genma blurted out. He had seen the clash, but not the trick hidden inside it.
Even Kakashi paused for half a beat before realization hit him.
Explosive tags.
The enemy had attached explosive tags to the shuriken grips. If Kakashi had intercepted them at close range with his blade, they would have detonated right in his face.
That thought made him glance toward Kiyohara almost instinctively. Without that interruption, he would have paid dearly for his habit.
Inside his own head, Kiyohara gave a silent thanks to his future self.
He hadn't seen through the trap on his own. He had only been able to react because the rogue Kiyohara—floating invisibly nearby where only he could perceive him—had spotted the detail and warned him in time.
"Nicely done," Minato said, nodding once.
He had been a heartbeat away from moving himself. Fortunately, Kiyohara's hands had been faster. In the shinobi world, that alone could decide life or death. The quicker your hands, the quicker your technique. The quicker your technique, the greater your chance to live.
"Daiko!"
The middle-aged Iwa ninja shouted the younger man's name, but it was already too late. The blast had taken the top of his head clean off. There was nothing left to save.
Kiyohara didn't waste the opening.
Kunai in hand, he rushed straight into the fray to finish the job. The explosion had not only killed one enemy outright, it had also shaken and injured the remaining three to varying degrees. And if he couldn't beat up a wounded chunin in a situation like this, then what exactly had he been grinding so desperately for?
More importantly, in most cases the shinobi who killed the enemy had the right to handle their belongings.
The thought of his outstanding loans flashed through Kiyohara's mind like lightning.
Sorry, enemies.
Turn into my hard-earned silver.
Bang!
The middle-aged Iwa ninja drew his ninja sword and caught Kiyohara's kunai, sparks scattering where steel struck steel. He tried to use technique and leverage to peel Kiyohara's weapon away—clearly a veteran who had spent decades refining the basics.
But the blast had numbed one of his arms, and the force he needed wasn't there anymore.
Kiyohara pressed him without mercy.
On another flank, Kakashi did not stop to watch. He went straight past them and engaged the remaining enemy one-on-one, his movements as sharp and cold as a drawn line.
"Ninja Art: Senbon Shower!"
Genma puffed out his cheeks and spat the senbon needle he had been holding in his mouth. Then his hands flashed through a sequence of seals, and in the blink of an eye the single needle multiplied into a dense rain of phantom senbon streaking toward the last Iwa shinobi.
Kurenai, like Rin, stayed alert at the edge of the engagement, watching for openings and preparing support. Neither of them rushed in recklessly. On a battlefield like this, the person who moved at the wrong time was often the first to die.
Obito covered his mouth, eyes watering. To use Great Fireball properly, he needed to gather fire-nature chakra in his throat, and his earlier mistake had left the whole area burning. It felt like he had somehow grown a mouth ulcer inside his windpipe.
"Damn it... those explosive tags were vicious," the middle-aged Iwa ninja growled.
He looked more aggrieved than frightened, as if fate itself had played a dirty trick on him. "I've practiced swordsmanship for twenty years. How could I lose to a brat like you?"
Then he roared and forced himself into one final desperate counterattack.
Slash.
Kiyohara's kunai plunged into the man's abdomen. He twisted hard to the right, shredding flesh and organs in one ruthless motion.
Thud.
The Iwa shinobi collapsed face-first, resentment frozen on his features even as the light fled his eyes.
Kiyohara looked down at him and shook his head. "Who told you to underestimate a poor, desperate middle-aged man?"
Setting aside the first Iwa ninja who had been blown apart outright, this one had been the most heavily injured from the start. Sometimes rage really was just rage. It didn't turn you into a hero. It just made you angrier while you lost.
Like a math problem, really. You could get furious at it all you wanted and still only end up staring blankly at the page.
By then, Kakashi had also finished his opponent. He deliberately left one enemy alive, pinning him down for interrogation instead of killing him outright.
"Well done," Minato praised them.
Aside from Obito getting flustered and misfiring at the start, everyone had performed well. Better than Minato had expected, honestly—especially Kiyohara.
"Kiyohara, you don't need to search the body that urgently," Minato added, unable to keep a helpless smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched Kiyohara already beginning to loot the fallen Iwa captain.
"Got it," Kiyohara said aloud, slowing down very slightly.
But only slightly.
You still had to check the pouch.
After all, shinobi had to pay for their own gear. If he didn't touch the bag now, was the village going to reimburse him later?