In truth, the Five Great Nations of the shinobi world did not directly border one another.
Each great power was encircled by a ring of smaller countries—buffer states that functioned like feathers around mighty wings.
In peacetime, these nations were exploited for resources by their dominant neighbors; in wartime, they became battlegrounds, their soil offered up to spare the heartlands of the great powers from ruin.
Thus, when Konoha's shinobi said they were "stationed at the border," what they really meant was that they were already deep within the Land of Rain—the crossroads of the great conflict between the Suna, Iwa, and Konoha.
For generations, this had been the inevitable theater of war.
The other regions were either too vast or too inhospitable, but the Land of Rain—compact, central, and bleak—was perfect for the endless proxy battles of the Great Nations.
Konoha's military effort was therefore divided into two fronts:
The eastern line through the Land of Rain, facing Sunagakure and Iwagakure,
And the western line through the Land of Hot Springs, defending against Kumogakure.
As for the Kiri, far across the sea—its isolation made it a distant concern. The very existence of the coastline rendered any true defense against the Mist-nin nearly impossible.
Thus, Konoha had no choice but to fortify its main forces around the Land of Country and its periphery.
This was where the Three Legendary Sannin—Jiraiya, Tsunade, and Orochimaru—were stationed as the highest field commanders, constantly on alert for ambushes from the other two great nations.
The price of this concentration, however, was a dangerously weakened defense elsewhere. But there was no alternative—Land of Rain could never be abandoned.
It was the keystone of the continent.
If two nations ever struck an alliance here, the third would be annihilated before it could react.
Unlike the remote Cloud and Mist, the powers here—Leaf, Sand, and Stone—were intertwined in a delicate, combustible balance. They had to watch each other constantly, every move countered by another.
Unless Konoha could conjure another high-ranking shinobi out of thin air, its only choice was to hold its ground and gamble everything on the Rain front.
But now, under the cover of night, the three Sannin—Konoha's greatest hope—were sprinting through the darkness in pursuit of something unknown.
No other shinobi accompanied them.
At their full speed, they risked harming allies—or worse, exposing the main camp's defenses.
Yet even with their full power unleashed, all they could glimpse were the receding silhouettes of two mysterious figures—white haori fluttering ahead like ghosts in the fog.
The distance between them never changed.
It was as if the strangers were deliberately keeping just far enough to lure the Sannin along.
"Shouldn't we at least warn the others first?"
Jiraiya's voice broke the night as he darted between trees, glancing at his two silent companions.
"We're the commanders here. Running off like this feels wrong—"
"We have to catch them," Tsunade interrupted sharply. "They left documents in our command tent and vanished right after. Whether it's goodwill or not, we can't ignore something that strange."
"She's right," said Orochimaru coldly. "Anyone capable of infiltrating our headquarters unnoticed isn't ordinary. The three of us together—this is the safest option."
Tsunade and Orochimaru's tone left no room for argument.
The memory of those intruders still burned in their minds: two men in white haori walking straight into their tent, calmly setting down sealed files, and leaving through the front entrance as if invisible to everyone else.
None of the guards reacted.
No one saw them but the Sannin themselves.
Driven by instinct, the three had given chase without hesitation.
They hadn't called for reinforcements for two reasons:
First, they were confident—against two foes, even powerful ones, the combined might of the Sannin should be enough.
Second, the intruders' strange concealment ability made it likely that ordinary soldiers couldn't even perceive them.
But for Tsunade, there was a third reason—one she dared not voice.
As she stared at the smaller of the two white-robed figures, her lips trembled. She prayed her intuition was wrong.
"...Here," the shorter one said suddenly.
The pair halted in a moonlit clearing.
The Sannin landed a short distance away, eyes narrowing, waiting for an explanation. But before they could even speak, the two masked figures turned to face them—and attacked.
Their aggression was so abrupt that even Jiraiya's battle-honed instincts faltered.
"You three," the taller one said coldly, his tone laced with scorn. "You left a trail easy enough for children to follow, and now you come charging out at the worst possible time. Are the so-called Sannin just hype?"
"What—?" Jiraiya blinked, stunned by the reprimand.
"Your formations, your choice of route, even your perimeter guards—how do you plan to fight enemies specialized in infiltration? Charging out like this only exposes your army to attack from behind!"
The man's voice dripped with controlled fury.
And though he wore a mask, his spinning three-tomoe Sharingan gleamed through the holes, revealing his identity beyond doubt.
"You're… an Uchiha?" Orochimaru hissed.
Both intruders bore the Konoha forehead protector, their haori adorned with clan emblems—one bearing the Uchiha fan, another marked with a large '6' on the back.
But what froze the Sannin's blood was not the Uchiha's scolding voice—
It was the man standing behind him.
He had pale moonlit hair, long and soft, and a gentle bearing that none of them could forget.
Tsunade's breath caught. Her pupils trembled violently.
"Dan…" she whispered.
The man behind the Uchiha—his white haori embroidered with red spider lilies and the number '2'—was unmistakable.
Katō Dan.
Her lover.
A hero of Konoha.
The man who had championed the medical corps system, the one who had fallen long ago in the chaos of war.
Even without chakra, even hidden behind a mask, Tsunade would have known him anywhere.
The elegant posture, the soft hair that caught the moonlight—she could never mistake him.
Her chest tightened, her heart twisting with unbearable pain.
"Dan… is that really you?"
He did not respond.
"Dan! Answer me! Are you under some forbidden jutsu? Did someone summon you back?!"
Still, there was only silence.
The two masked figures stood motionless under the moonlight, their presence alone suffocating the air itself.
Tsunade's anguish deepened into rage. Her voice cracked.
"Say something, damn it! I'm talking to you!"
No response.
Her despair hung in the air like a physical weight. The ache in her chest grew unbearable, as if her heart were being torn apart.
Finally, the white-haired man—Katō Dan—spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.
"...Proceed with the plan."
"Understood," replied the Uchiha beside him.
Both slowly drew their weapons from within their sleeves—twin blades that gleamed silver under the moonlight.
The forest wind grew colder.
Even the rustling of the leaves sounded like whispers of warning.
In the next instant, a crushing pressure swept across the clearing.
It was not killing intent—it was something deeper, more alien. The very world seemed to reject their existence.
The Sannin staggered instinctively, their breath catching in their throats.
What… is this?!
Before Jiraiya could complete the hand signs to summon his toad, the two intruders raised their blades.
Two voices overlapped in eerie harmony—calm, emotionless, and chilling.
"Mimicry—Shikai Activation."
"Burn anew, Katsujin."
"Divide, Reikon."
Light exploded.
The air itself screamed, and in an instant, the world twisted.
When Jiraiya's vision cleared, Tsunade and Orochimaru were gone.
Only he and the masked Uchiha remained in the moonlit clearing.
"—!"
Nothing. He couldn't sense their chakra, their presence—nothing at all.
It was as if they had been erased from existence.
The pressure intensified, crushing down upon him like the weight of the sky itself. Every breath was agony.
Jiraiya gritted his teeth and shouted,
"Who the hell are you?! You wear Konoha's symbol—why are you doing this?!"
The Uchiha's voice came calm, resolute, almost sorrowful.
"Because we are Konoha shinobi. And this… is something that must be done."
The suffocating pressure abruptly released.
Then—thud!
Jiraiya gasped as pain tore through his shoulder—the Uchiha's wooden staff had pierced clean through it.
Blood splattered the ground. The Uchiha's Sharingan glowed through the mask, crimson tomoe spinning slowly as he met Jiraiya's horrified gaze.
It was as though he were trying to carve something directly into Jiraiya's soul—through his weapon, through his eyes.
"It's precisely because we're shinobi of Konoha," the masked man whispered,
"that we must do this… my junior."
~~~~~
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