Early the next morning, the three left the cave, moving cautiously through the dense woods.
A sharp whoosh whispered beneath the forest floor. Jinzō glanced down in time to see a squad of three Sand ninja darting past.
Their eyes swept upward, scanning the branches. If they'd looked carefully, they might have spotted the three Konoha shinobi crouched among the leaves. But the Sand team was in a hurry — they rushed on without pause.
The trio waited, still as stone, until the Sand patrol had disappeared into the trees. Only then did Jinzō and Hatake Shoshige blur forward, their bodies vanishing with Shunshin.
Their pace was far slower now than when they first entered the Land of Rivers. Step by step. Branch by branch.
The problem wasn't their stamina — it was Sunagakure's overwhelming numbers.
Shoshige raised his hand. The team froze. A faint tremor rippled through the ground ahead.
Too heavy for a squad. Only an army could shake the earth like that.
They melded against the bark, disguising themselves as trees. Minutes later, a column of Sand troops thundered through the forest. Eyes sweeping, scanning, but not carefully enough. The wave of shinobi passed on.
Only when silence returned did the three emerge.
"They're searching for us," Jinzō muttered under his breath.
Shoshige gave a curt nod. Then, out of nowhere, he asked:"If you have any ninjutsu that could boost my combat power… I'll trade you Hatake swordsmanship for it."
"…What?" Jinzō blinked. That was like someone offering to swap a kunai for an entire arsenal.
White Fang wasn't bluffing, either. The man didn't just know Hatake swordsmanship; he was its living embodiment. Generations of training, refined theory, and deadly execution.
But right now, survival outweighed sentiment. And survival meant keeping White Fang at peak strength.
"Deal," Jinzō said, though part of him winced at the bargain.
He rifled mentally through his arsenal. Liuku Immortal Thief? Too much of a personal edge. Six Styles? Shoshige already knew them. Spirit Pill? No chance — that was his trump card. Tsunade's poison techniques? Not compatible.
That left only one option.
"Shoshige-san, what's your chakra nature?"
"Primarily lightning and wind. But I can use earth, water, and fire as well."
"Then this will work. I'll teach you a breathing-based ninjutsu — Breath of Thunder. On paper it's D-rank. But combined with sword skills, it hits like B-rank… maybe even A."
He explained while they moved, hands gesturing, breath shifting in measured rhythm.
White Fang adjusted almost instantly. His breathing changed, steady and sharp, and arcs of lightning crawled across his skin.
"…The Breathing Seal really is yours," Shoshige admitted, eyes narrowing with respect.
Breath of Thunder — deceptively simple, but scaling endlessly with personal strength. It reminded him of the Raikage's Lightning Release Armor. A B-rank technique that, in the right hands, rivaled S-rank.
He pulled a small book from his cloak and tossed it to Jinzō. "Hatake swordsmanship. Our clan's legacy. Don't pass it around."
Jinzō tucked it away with a solemn nod. He didn't actually need it — but refusing would've been rude.
They pressed deeper. Each time they neared a patrol, Mushihime's insects warned them early. If spotted, Shoshige cut the threat down before it could blink.
By dusk, they reached a mountain ridge — and beyond it, a massive sandcastle fortress crawling with shinobi.
"Another line of defense," Jinzō murmured.
Mushihime had scouted it deliberately, on Shoshige's orders. If they toppled this stronghold, one corner of Sunagakure's defenses would collapse — giving Konoha a real shot at advancing.
"Hide," Shoshige ordered.
Mushihime dissolved into a cloud of kikaichū. Jinzō sank into the brush, feeling utterly exposed. White Fang was a storm, Mushihime was a shadow, and him? He was just a jonin with too many secrets, stuck in the middle.
Shoshige's breathing shifted again. Lightning danced across his skin. He hadn't just memorized the Breath of Thunder — he'd mastered it overnight.
No sword kata. No flashy techniques. Just Hatake steel.
His body flashed into a streak of white light, racing toward the sand fortress.
Explosions thundered. Kunai and shuriken rained down like a storm. Shoshige dodged effortlessly, his blade carving white crescents through the air.
This time, the Sand had prepared. Dozens of shinobi swarmed him. Puppeteers in the back pulled strings, wooden monstrosities snapping into battle. Ninjutsu roared — wind whirling into tornadoes, flames searing, earth splitting.
But Shoshige danced through it all untouched, too fast, too precise. His blade cut through flesh and puppet alike. For every step he took, another corpse fell.
Still… the sheer numbers began to drag at his tempo. Unlike before, this wasn't a quick massacre.
Jinzō watched, eyes narrowing, when a whisper brushed his ear.
"Careful!"
An iron box erupted from the ground, snapping shut around him. A puff of white smoke exploded inside.
Figures dropped onto the treetops above. Two of them. Watching him.
"Tch. Found me already."
Jinzō exhaled, drawing his blade from his hip.
These weren't fodder. Their chakra flared like jonin. One man was a puppeteer, chakra threads glinting faintly in the air.
The other — masked, silent, dangerous.
White Fang was already fully engaged, swarmed by an army. Mushihime was still in hiding. That left Jinzō alone, boxed in.
"…Why does White Fang get to hog all the glory while I get ambushed?" Jinzō muttered bitterly.
But his body blurred, vanishing. He reappeared in an instant, blade flashing toward the female puppeteer's mask.
Because if the fight had started — he'd strike first.