The rain-slick rooftops of town outside of Ame were quiet, the streets below wrapped in mist and shadow.
A year and a half had passed since Naruto left Konoha. Six months since he had sat cross-legged atop the stone toads of Mount Myōboku and drawn in nature itself until it sang in his veins.
Sage Mode.
Complete. Controlled. His greatest weapon.
But Jiraiya hadn't let him stop there.
No—his godfather had dragged him through alleys, dens, black markets, and brothels, hammering every lesson of espionage into him.
"How to blend. How to listen. How to disappear without ever moving. That's the real ninja life, brat," Jiraiya had said more than once. "Power without subtlety just paints a target on your back."
Naruto had listened. He'd learned.
The loud orange was gone. In its place, travel leathers of deep gray and navy clung to his frame—silent, durable, easy to vanish into stone and smoke. The plates were hidden beneath the cloth, seals inked on the inner lining where only he could reach them. A hood shadowed his face when needed, a mask tucked at his collar for moments when anonymity mattered more than pride.
He no longer looked like the class clown. He looked like a shinobi.
And more than that, he moved like one. The weight of his chakra was masked, suppressed until even sensor-nin struggled to feel him. His step no longer shouted, it whispered.
Naruto Uzumaki was no longer just training. He was working.
⸻
Chapter 2 — Assignment
The mission scroll had arrived from Konoha by hawk three nights ago. Jiraiya had read it once, whistled low, then tossed it to Naruto.
"Looks like Tsunade's finally decided you're not just a runaway brat. She wants you on official record again."
Naruto scanned the parchment, eyes narrowing slightly as he read.
Mission Briefing:
• Classification: A-Rank (covert)
• Target: Supply network of Grass-nin mercenaries operating on the Fire border.
• Objectives:
1. Identify leaders and funding streams.
2. Disrupt supply lines without exposing Konoha's involvement.
3. Field-evaluate Uzumaki Naruto's combat and espionage performance for formal records.
• Reporting Officer: Jiraiya of the Sannin.
At the bottom, in Tsunade's neat, hard script:
"You want to play spy, brat? Then prove you're more than your father's shadow. Don't embarrass me."
Naruto snorted softly. "Figures Baa-chan wouldn't go easy."
Now, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jiraiya outside a border-town inn, he tucked the scroll into his belt. The hum of Sage chakra in his veins steadied him, quiet and controlled.
Jiraiya gave him a side glance. "Ready?"
Naruto's grin was sharp, but his eyes didn't waver. "Yeah. Let's fill out those records."
The borderlands between Fire and Grass Country were never quiet.
Caravans rolled through the dusty roads, some carrying legitimate trade, others hiding weapons under sacks of grain. Shinobi mercenaries drifted in and out of taverns, eyes sharp, hands never far from steel. It was the perfect crossroads for war profiteers — and the perfect place for Konoha's enemies to slip supplies under their nose.
Naruto leaned against a weather-worn wall in a border-town alley, hood drawn low. His new gear let him melt into shadow, the pale flicker of lantern light barely brushing him. Beside him, Jiraiya was disguised in a ragged cloak and travel-worn sandals, hair bound up under a straw hat.
From their vantage point, they watched a cluster of Grass-nin mercenaries unload crates from an ox-cart behind a warehouse. Each crate was marked with a faint sigil — a snake coiled in a circle.
Naruto's jaw tightened. That's no merchant brand. That's a contract sigil.
Jiraiya murmured low, only moving his lips. "Supplies, probably weapons. See the guard rotation?"
Naruto nodded slightly. "Four at the rear entrance, three on the roof. Two patrolling the street. Their formation's sloppy — the rooftop guys are too far apart."
A faint smirk tugged at Jiraiya's mouth. "Not bad, gaki. You've been paying attention."
Naruto didn't rise to the bait. His eyes stayed on the crates. "So what's our move? Quiet disrupt, or loud?"
Jiraiya's grin widened beneath the shadow of his hat. "Tsunade's test is clear: spy work first, smash work second. We need names, routes, coin flow. Smash comes after."
Naruto breathed out slowly, drawing in nature chakra just enough to let Sage Mode brush his senses. The world sharpened, each life-force glowing in his mind — mercenaries bright and jagged, the civilians muted and soft. He let the awareness steady him, not overwhelm.
"…There's thirty in the building," Naruto whispered. "Most of them low-level. One chakra signature's bigger. Leader, maybe."
Jiraiya gave him a side-eye. "See? That's Sage Mode done right. Quiet, restrained. If you'd had this sense back when we first left Konoha, you wouldn't have needed me dragging your sorry hide out of ambushes every week."
Naruto smirked faintly. "And you wouldn't have had someone to keep you from drinking yourself stupid."
"Cheeky brat." Jiraiya snorted, but his pride gleamed under the words.
Naruto slipped into shadow, three clones poofing silently into existence beside him. They wore his same hooded gear, movements mirroring his. Each peeled off, flowing through alleys with practiced subtlety.
Inside the warehouse, the clones crept unseen. One crouched above the rafters, ink-brush in hand, scribbling seal diagrams to record the sigils stamped on crates. Another slithered past drunken mercs, slipping into the office to rifle through papers. The third anchored a Flying Raijin kunai under a support beam, chakra hum suppressed to near nothing.
Naruto's real body crouched outside, eyes closed, feeding chakra threads to each. Memories streamed back in waves: routes marked across maps, coin ledgers tallying ryo far too large for petty mercenaries, contracts inked with Grass signatures.
The clone at the rafters froze. A heavy chakra presence entered the warehouse — cold, sharp, serpentine.
Naruto's eyes snapped open outside. His gut clenched. That chakra… no way…
Jiraiya's eyes flicked toward him. "Report."
Naruto's voice was low, grim. "Orochimaru's people."
The warehouse air was thick with dust and the musk of sweat-soaked mercenaries. Lanterns swung lazily, their light never quite reaching the shadows where Naruto's clones crouched.
On the floor below, crates were stacked in neat rows, each stamped with that coiled serpent sigil. Mercenaries shuffled, muttering in hushed tones.
Then the door creaked open.
A chill swept the room as a new figure entered — pale skin, long black hair tied in a simple knot, eyes gleaming with a reptilian sharpness. The Grass-nin around him stiffened, bowing slightly.
"Captain," one muttered.
The man said nothing at first. He walked to a crate, pried it open with deliberate care, and withdrew a scroll. His long fingers unrolled it across the lid, revealing a map of Fire's western border marked with dozens of pins.
Naruto's rafter-clone tensed, fingers twitching. That's troop movement data… that's Konoha's border patrol pattern!
The clone in the office suppressed a growl as he flipped through ledgers. Funding traced through shell traders in Tea Country… smuggling routes from River… It's a whole network.
The serpent-eyed captain's voice finally slithered into the silence.
"Fire will choke on its own excess. Our employer ensures that. You, however…" His gaze flicked to the nearest mercenary, who flinched. "Ensure every caravan moves on time. If I find another delay, I'll flay the skin from your bones myself."
The mercenary stammered, nodding frantically.
Naruto's clone high above clenched his jaw. That's no Grass-nin. That's one of Orochimaru's lieutenants.
Outside, Naruto's real body pressed against the alley wall, Sage senses pulsing with each flicker of chakra inside. His teeth ground softly.
"…They're coordinating with Sound."
Jiraiya's eyes narrowed beneath his straw hat. His voice was flat. "Thought so. Keep your cool. We don't engage tonight — not unless we want half of Grass knowing Konoha's on their doorstep. This is reconnaissance."
Naruto forced a slow breath. Recon. Information first, smashing later.
Inside the dim warehouse office, Naruto's clone crouched low, flipping through ledgers as fast as silence allowed. He'd already sealed one into a scroll, every page screaming evidence of Grass's smuggling routes.
But footsteps creaked closer. Two mercs entered, bickering over dice debts, their boots thudding against the warped floorboards.
"Oi, where's the ink set? Captain wants the manifests logged."
Naruto's clone froze, ledger half-closed. He slipped beneath the desk, hugging the shadow.
The first merc bent down, peering under. His face loomed closer—closer—his breath stinking of rice wine.
Naruto's mind raced. If he sees me—
The clone's palm brushed the floor. A faint spiral seal shimmered, no bigger than a coin. The space around his body bent, folding like fabric.
The merc blinked. His eyes scanned straight past the clone's vanishing outline, finding nothing but empty shadow. He grunted, annoyed, and pulled back. "Tch. Nothing here. Check the back."
The two left, door creaking shut.
Inside the desk's shadow, the air shimmered faintly. Naruto's clone exhaled inside the pocket dimension — crouched in the same space he'd used to stash rivers and trees, now nothing more than a void he could slip into. He waited, heartbeat steady despite the surreal weightlessness of the pocket.
When the footsteps faded, he pressed his hand outward. The shimmer rippled, the "door" reopened, and he slipped back into the office like a ghost.
The ledger still lay on the desk. Untouched.
Perfect, the clone thought with a grin. This is even better than a smoke bomb.
Meanwhile, the rafter-clone scrawled quick notes of the border map onto his palm. His chakra trembled as the captain below glanced up sharply, eyes scanning the rafters. For an instant, Naruto swore the man's gaze locked right on him.
But the captain smirked faintly, turned back to the scroll, and spoke. "Our employer demands speed. Orochimaru will tolerate no delays."
The clones froze. The name hung heavy in the air.
Naruto's real eyes widened outside. Confirmed. Orochimaru's involved.
Outside, the real Naruto jerked slightly as the memory fed back: the press of the void, the silence, the mercs' confusion. His lips curled into a smile. So the pocket's good for stealth too, huh? Not just a hideout.
Jiraiya noticed the grin and muttered, "What did you just pull?"
Naruto's voice was low, but tinged with pride. "New trick. Trust me—it worked."
Jiraiya's eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his hat, suspicion flickering. He knew that grin. That was a grin that spelled trouble — and innovation.
"Fine," Jiraiya said, forcing his voice flat. "But keep it quiet. Tricks are only worth something if no one knows you've got them."
Naruto gave a tiny nod. "Yeah. Got it."
One by one, the clones slipped out:
—The office clone resealed the stolen ledger and ghosted through the back window.
—The rafter clone dispersed after finishing his sketches of the border map.
—The last anchor clone erased his markings, leaving nothing but bare wood.
The chakra feedback slammed into Naruto, images and notes threading into his mind. Orochimaru's name whispered through every page, every overheard order.
Naruto's grin faded. His hands clenched. So it really is him.
Jiraiya's tone was sharp. "Enough. We've got the proof. Time to vanish."
Together, they melted back into the night, their presence folding into the mist like they had never been there.
But in the warehouse office, the faintest trace of chakra residue shimmered against the desk leg — a ripple only a trained eye would notice.
The serpent-eyed captain paused, glancing at the desk as if something had brushed against his senses. Slowly, a thin smile curled his lips.
"…Interesting."