"Then I'll be counting on you to be even more active this time, Feiyu-kun."
Orochimaru smiled as he spoke.
Feiyu's reply, however, made several people in the room almost choke.
"Uh… I'll do my best," Feiyu said. "But I'm invisible when I fight. You probably won't see me being active."
"Safety first on the battlefield, right? Whether I'm 'active' or not… we can talk about that after I survive."
The moment he finished, not just Orochimaru, but every jōnin in the command tent fell silent, faces somewhere between speechless and amused.
Akimichi Torifū, sitting beside Orochimaru like a small mountain, patted his belly and burst into loud laughter.
"You really don't act like an Uchiha, brat! Hahaha! You sound more like one of us Akimichi!"
The Akimichi had always been broad of body and broad of heart—simple, straightforward, and honest. When they were scared, it showed on their faces.
Back when he'd been part of the Second Hokage's escort, the famous "rear-guard" scene had played out exactly the same: after Tobirama suggested someone stay behind to cover the retreat, Torifū had blurted out, dumb as a rock, "Wouldn't the one staying behind… be doomed to die?"
Of course, the Akimichi were still proud Konoha shinobi. When it was time to stake their lives, they didn't hesitate.
That was where they differed sharply from Uchiha Feiyu.
As an old veteran of Konoha, Torifū had seen more than his share of Uchiha—normal ones and not-so-normal ones. He'd even been teammates with Uchiha Kagami. He was no stranger to the clan's quirks.
Whether they were village-leaning Uchiha or clan-first Uchiha, they all had one thing in common:
Pride.
Some wore it openly and acted domineering. Others hid it behind gentle smiles and polite manners. But none of them—none—would ever admit they were scared to die this bluntly.
"I never wanted to be 'an Uchiha' in the first place," Feiyu said blandly. "I only got dragged in because my Sharingan awakened. It's not like they think much of me anyway."
He walked around and sat down on Orochimaru's other side.
By position alone, he was basically one of the commander's two "right hands".
Yet not a single jōnin in the tent objected.
On paper, Feiyu was only a tokubetsu jōnin with no formal post in the camp's command structure.
But he had something more convincing than rank:
The lives of hundreds of Iwa and Suna shinobi on his hands.
In the ninja world, status could be influenced by politics and relationships—but the core metric was simple.
Can you fight?
So even if Feiyu was a chronic solo operator who cherished his life a bit too openly, his seat only climbed higher the more enemies he cut down.
"Enough. Now that everyone's here—Shikano, give us a report on Suna's movements."
Orochimaru clapped his hands lightly to refocus the room.
Thankfully, there were no other Uchiha under his direct command here. That meant even when Feiyu casually trashed his own clan, no one took it personally; at most, they just filed it under "juicy gossip".
Nara Shikano, who had been half-listening while skimming the latest intel, put his notes aside, his gossip mood switching off in an instant.
Whatever this new Uchiha's relationship with the clan or the village was—that was a problem for after the war.
Right now, everyone present only had one job:
Figure out how to beat Suna.
"Based on the latest reports, Sunagakure has already left their main camp," Shikano began. "They've essentially committed their entire active force and are advancing in this direction."
His finger tapped the map.
Feiyu glanced over and recognized it at once.
The route led straight toward Kikyō Mountain.
"It's obvious what they're aiming for," Shikano continued. "They intend to break through our blockade at Kikyō. If they manage that, the road to the Land of Fire opens wide."
"And with Suna's raider mentality, if even a few hundred—let alone a thousand—shinobi slip into Fire Country, it'll be a disaster."
Suna shinobi grew up in the harsh deserts of the Wind Country. Poverty was baked into their bones. Even in the small Land of Rivers, they'd already shown their bandit fangs—pillaging anything they could get their hands on.
If given free rein in the far richer Land of Fire, there was no chance they would show restraint.
Ninja were far better at destruction than construction.
A thousand rogue nin roaming freely through Fire Country would be enough to devastate vast swathes of land, set the economy back by years—never mind if the entire Suna army broke through.
"So we must stop them at Kikyō Mountain," someone said grimly. "That will be the battlefield of the final clash."
"What's Suna's current state?" another jōnin asked. "How many in their main force? How many known elites?"
Shikano answered steadily:
"Suna is claiming they've fielded over ten thousand shinobi. That's definitely exaggerated. I doubt the village even has ten thousand to begin with."
"Unless they completely abandoned every other front and stripped their home village of all reserve forces, it's impossible."
He tapped a rough estimate on the map.
"Even if we cut that number in half, about five thousand is still plausible under 'decisive battle' conditions. Based on our analysis of their supply consumption… the real number is likely between four and five thousand."
"As for their notable ninja…"
"Right now, Suna's in a generational gap. Their most talented young genius, Sasori of the Red Sand, vanished along with the Third Kazekage."
"In the current younger generation, only the Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, and the Scorch Release user Pakura stand out as priority threats."
"As for the older generation—Chiyo should still be combat-capable. Age doesn't limit puppet masters as much. She's considered a standard Kage-level fighter."
"And one more factor to watch: if Suna starts losing, there's a chance they'll deploy their One-Tails Jinchūriki, Shukaku's host. We don't know how accurate the intel is, but the current host reportedly dislikes fighting."
On that point, Feiyu actually knew a bit more.
That Jinchūriki should be the monk Bunpuku.
A "perfect" Jinchūriki in theory—
Who never once used the tailed beast's power in his entire life.
In practice, he was more like a storage container for Shukaku—a living seal, nothing more.
Even Suna themselves had little idea what their Jinchūriki was truly capable of. Otherwise, they wouldn't have let fear of Shukaku drive them to lock the poor monk in prison until he died.
And even if they did drag Bunpuku out now, his personality meant he probably wouldn't lift a hand.
They could safely ignore Suna's Jinchūriki for this war.
When Shikano finished his breakdown, the command tent fell into a momentary silence.
After a while, one of the jōnin frowned.
"This won't be an easy fight…"
He hesitated, then added:
"Is Suna's brain full of sand or what? Concentrating all their Kage-level power on this one front—aren't they afraid of getting stabbed in the back by another village?"
Torifū snorted.
"That's just how those sand scorpions are," he said. "Every time a Great Ninja War starts, they gamble their lives like this. War after war, they still haven't learned their lesson."
He'd seen three ninja wars already.
And Suna?
They were always the same.
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