The Mist higher-ups exchanged quick glances, and in moments the tent filled with hushed chatter.
Suikazan Fuguki sat at the head of the table, his fat frame sinking into the chair, eyes narrowing as he thought it over.
The more he considered Mangetsu's suggestion, the more he liked it.
The effect of two elite shinobi fighting together was always greater than the sum of their parts. If they could split Konoha's strongest, Orochimaru and his young vice commander, it would be far easier to crush either side.
And if the enemy's supply lines were threatened, ordinary jōnin wouldn't be trusted to lead the defense. The stakes would be too high. Someone like Uchiha Gen would almost certainly have to step forward.
Gen might have talent, but he was new to command, and leading a force of a thousand on the battlefield was a world apart from duels or ambushes.
War wasn't a game. If Orochimaru entrusted such responsibility to him, it was reckless, bordering on irresponsible for Konoha's front line.
"Silence!" Fuguki's voice boomed, cutting through the whispers.
The tent went quiet.
"I think the plan is feasible. What about you?"
Some immediately voiced their agreement. Others tried the safer route, we'll listen to the commander.
Fuguki's face darkened.
Listening to the commander? That was just an excuse to shirk responsibility. If the operation failed, they could wash their hands of it, and he would be left carrying the blame. He wasn't about to allow that.
Under his glare, the hesitant ones quickly caved. One by one, they nodded, voicing support.
Satisfied, Fuguki leaned back and allowed a smile. "Good. Since we're unanimous, we'll proceed with this method."
"We'll refine the details later. For now, we need to divide the force, who goes with the main body, who joins the strike unit, and who will serve as captains and vice-captains."
"As commander, I will lead the main force directly. That much is obvious. Special Jōnin and elite Chūnin will follow orders as assigned, no debate there. The real question is our jōnin distribution."
He glanced down the table. "We currently have twenty-two jōnin on the front. Twelve will stay with the main force. The other ten will join the strike unit. Only with that balance can we hope to eliminate Uchiha Gen."
A gleam lit in his eye. "And if all goes smoothly and if we have the strength left we may turn the feint into reality. Destroying Konoha's supply depots outright. Imagine it, Gen dead, their jōnin gutted, their logistics crippled. Konoha's morale will plummet straight into the earth."
He clenched a massive fist, voice swelling with fervor.
"In that chaos, even Orochimaru won't be able to salvage the front. And when Konoha falters, the world will smell blood. Other nations will circle like wolves, just as in the last Great War. I don't believe Konoha can survive a second siege!"
He leaned forward, eyes glittering.
"Once Konoha collapses, the Fire Country will be carved apart. If we Mist play our cards right, we'll claim the largest share of the spoils. Hidden Mist will rise to surpass Konoha, to stand as the strongest village in the world!"
The tent rippled with excitement. Some of the jōnin looked ready to leap up and shout their enthusiasm, fists trembling.
"So," Fuguki spread his hands, voice booming. "Who among you is willing to volunteer as captain, vice-captain, or strike unit member?"
Hands shot into the air—swish, swish, swish.
Even those who hesitated, wary of the danger, eventually raised theirs. The atmosphere left them no choice. To sit still now would mark them as cowards.
"Good. Very good." Fuguki grinned broadly, tusk-like teeth showing.
Of course, the risk was enormous. A deep strike into enemy territory was no small matter.
If anything went wrong, there was a high chance few would return alive. Perhaps none at all.
He wasn't about to take that gamble himself. If Gen fought to the death, he would drag others down with him and the higher your rank, the greater the chance you'd be targeted.
"Magetsu and Mangetsu," Fuguki finally said, pointing across the table. "The two of you are the strongest and most experienced. Magetsu will be captain. Mangetsu, you'll serve as vice-captain."
His thick finger jabbed again and again. "The other eight will be… you, you, you…"
He quickly filled out the strike squad.
The chosen jōnin straightened with pride, barely able to hide their excitement. The chance for great merit was right before them.
Those left out wore mixed looks, disappointed, or pretending disappointment while secretly relieved.
Fuguki's gaze lingered on Biwa Jūzō and his loyal subordinate Hoshigaki Kisame. Both looked crestfallen. He almost laughed. Idiots. I left you out on purpose to protect you. Did they really think earning glory was so simple?
Still, he preferred them simple. Smart men made poor subordinates, especially ones smarter than their commander.
"Enough," Fuguki said. "The rest of you needn't be disappointed. Once this plan succeeds, there will be plenty of opportunities for merit. Now, let's settle the details of each detachment."
The discussion flared again, this time focused and heated. Ideas were thrown out, tested, refined. Slowly the Plan took shape.
By evening, the framework was complete. Only minor adjustments remained for implementation.
Fuguki named it himself, The Fire Extinguishing Plan. Simple, direct, easy to rally behind.
That very night, preparations began in secret. Anti-espionage measures were tightened, and infiltration routes set. The covert strike force wouldn't take the direct approach through the northern or southern seas near Uzushio. Instead, they would detour quietly through Wave Country and Tea Country, circling around to Konoha's rear.
On the surface, the Mist camp looked unchanged. Calm and orderly as usual.
Konoha's intelligence reports showed nothing unusual.
And so, back in the Konoha camp, Uchiha Gen remained unaware of the net being cast around him. His days fell into a steady rhythm of training, handling military matters, and sharpening his strength.
A week passed in a blur.
By then, Gen had finally devised a method that might transfer Kiba's abilities into Shizukamaru. He wasn't entirely certain it would work.
That afternoon, after lunch, he returned to his tent, sat cross-legged, and began the experiment.