"What—?!"
When Uchiha Jinzō woke up that morning, he got news so baffling it made him choke on his own breath.
Hatake Shomo wanted him back at the Kawa no Kuni stronghold.
His tiny body practically collapsed under the weight of the order.
"Lord Shomo is waiting for you," the chūnin messenger said stiffly before walking out of the tent like he couldn't get away fast enough. The guy looked like he didn't even want to breathe the same air as Jinzō.
So realistic.
Jinzō sat in the dim light seeping through the tent flap. He saw the sunshine, but couldn't feel a shred of warmth.
What was he supposed to do? He was desperate too.
There was nothing to pack—his actual gear was still stashed in Dilong Cave. So he strapped on his long knife and trudged out.
The camp was quieter than yesterday. No more screams and wails, just the bustle of shinobi walking, laughing, and pretending everything was fine.
Until they saw him.
One by one, the passing ninja froze, then straightened, bowing their heads at Jinzō like he was marching toward the gallows.
Which, to be fair… he basically was.
"Unbelievable," Jinzō muttered, his eyes dead inside as he entered the command tent.
Inside, Hatake Shomo was calmly sharpening his blade. He looked up the moment Jinzō arrived.
"You came?"
"I shouldn't have."
"But you're here anyway."
"Can I just… not?"
"Unless you're planning to betray the village."
Jinzō gave him a hollow laugh. "Yeah, thought so."
He swore he'd never wronged Hatake Shomo in his life. Why did fate keep throwing him at this man?
"Meet your companions," Shomo said, sheathing his sword.
Only then did Jinzō notice the other presence in the tent.
A woman in a huge grey windbreaker that swallowed her frame. Sunglasses hid her eyes, and her whole look screamed mystery.
"Aburame Mushihime," she introduced herself with a slight nod.
Jinzō sucked in a sharp breath.
From the side, Shomo added helpfully, "The women of the Aburame clan are terrifying in every sense of the word."
…which made Mushihime visibly deflate like a punctured balloon.
"As a member of the Aburame clan, I deeply apologize."
Jinzō stared at Shomo in disbelief. This is my teammate? Seriously?
"Don't worry," Shomo said flatly. "She's got strong survival instincts. You should worry about your own life first."
"Wow. Thanks for the pep talk."
Jinzō slumped. Yep, this gloomy, self-conscious aura was definitely Hatake Shomo's fault.
"Are you both ready?" Shomo asked.
"I can fight anytime," Mushihime replied seriously.
"I can run away anytime," Jinzō added just as seriously. He'd already mapped three escape routes. If things went south, he was out. Even if it meant going rogue.
"Relax. It won't be that dangerous."
The smile on Shomo's face didn't reassure him at all. Still, the man pushed aside the tent flap.
"Let's move."
The Land of Rivers
Dense forests, endless mountains.
Jinzō crouched in the trees with Shomo and Mushihime, peering at a sand-colored fortress up ahead.
"…That close?" Jinzō asked. From here, the Land of Fire was only a half-hour's walk for an ordinary person.
"They're staging defenses in the Land of Rivers," Mushihime explained calmly. "Once their lines are set, they'll march directly into the Fire Country."
"And at the border, our remaining troops can barely hold on," she added.
Jinzō frowned. He was used to defense under Jiraiya, not attacks. "So… what's our job?"
"Destroy their sentry posts," Shomo said, unsheathing his blade.
Jinzō pointed at the obvious sandcastle. "That one?"
"Trap," Shomo replied. "Real Suna-nin hide underground." He pulled on a poison-resistant mask and advanced.
Jinzō sighed and drew his long knife. "And what do we do?"
"Stay alive," Shomo answered bluntly.
"Huh?" Jinzō blinked. Why bring them if they weren't going to fight?
Before he could complain, Mushihime dissolved into a cloud of black insects. Only a few clung to Shomo's shoulder.
"My bugs will guide you, Lord Shomo," her voice echoed through the swarm.
He nodded and vanished. His speed technique—Jinzō recognized it instantly.
Shaving? The Six Styles are really spreading through Konoha, huh…
In the blink of an eye, Shomo reached the bunker. A BOOM shook the ground, the blast tearing through the forest. Shuriken, kunai, and even a giant fūma shuriken came flying.
But Shomo was faster—stepping on airborne weapons, slipping between attacks like a phantom.
Puppets burst out of the ground, but he severed their chakra threads in an instant. Suna-nin poured up from below, only to be cut down one after another.
His speed spiked. No ninja lasted more than a second.
One Sand shinobi barely finished a hand seal before his head rolled into the dirt.
Shomo became a white crescent moon in the night, carving through enemy lives.
And then—
One unlucky Suna-nin, back to Shomo, suddenly shrieked, clutching his rear as he rocketed into the sky, landing in a bloody heap not far from Jinzō.
The man's hand stretched toward him helplessly before collapsing in a spray of red.
Jinzō's face darkened. "…The Secret Technique of Konoha Taijutsu… One Thousand Years of Death."
He looked over the battlefield again. Dozens of Sand-nin lay groaning, every single one stabbed in the same… sensitive spot.
"…You have got to be kidding me."
It was brutal. Efficient. And also the single most humiliating way to die he'd ever seen.
By the time Jinzō dragged his eyes back to the fight, it was basically over. The ground was littered with corpses, and Hatake Shomo stood in the center like the calm eye of a storm.