The sky hadn't yet fully darkened.
Orochimaru led the group of shinobi out.
By the time the last light bled from the horizon, they'd reached the forest several hundred meters from the Hidden Hot Springs Village.
Orochimaru's gaze flickered to the three sensory ninja within the ranks.
They moved. No orders needed.
The three slipped from the formation, their chakra senses fanning out, creeping with agonizing caution toward the village.
The main force stayed put. Waiting.
Two hours crawled by.
The night grew deep and cold. The only sound was the rasp and chirp of insects in the trees.
Most of the men were coiled tight. On edge.
The longer they waited, the slimmer the chance those three scouts were coming back.
Another half hour scraped past.
Finally, movement. Two of the three sensory ninja stumbled back into the treeline.
One was missing his left arm. He clutched the ragged stump, swaying, about to collapse.
Minato was there in a blur, a flash of yellow, catching the man before he hit the dirt.
The two scouts—the whole one and the bleeding one—stood before Orochimaru to report.
The third hadn't even made it inside the village. Cloud ninja patrolling the perimeter spotted him. Killed him.
But his death bought a path. The other two slipped through the net, into the village itself.
Getting out was the hard part. A Hidden Hot Springs sensor picked up their retreat. They ran. Got chased. Only lost one arm between them. Considered that lucky.
They also mapped the rough distribution of forces inside the village.
Orochimaru listened, then gave a slight nod. "Your duty is done. Rest."
Minato's chest felt tight. Suffocating.
The raid hadn't even started, and they were already down a man.
And the Cloud knew. They knew Leaf shinobi had scouted their position. In Minato's mind, this whole operation should be called off. Advancing when the enemy was alert? That was suicide.
Orochimaru's next words hit him like a physical blow.
"The operation commences at 0400. Five hours from now. Jiraiya and I will initiate chaos within the village. Everyone else executes the plan as briefed. To the letter."
Minato didn't understand. How could Orochimaru push forward when the enemy was already warned?
As the men made final preparations, Jiraiya plopped down beside him with a grin. "Confused, huh? Wondering why the snake's pressing the attack when they know we were sniffing around?"
Minato nodded. "Yes, sensei. I don't see the logic."
Jiraiya stretched, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "It's because knowing changes nothing for them. They won't care. We send scouts into their camps all the time. They never shift their posture. They'll think we're just gathering intel on their deployment in the Land of Hot Springs. The idea that we'd actually attack them? It won't even cross their minds."
He jabbed a thumb toward the distant village. "They know our situation. They hold the numbers. The strength. To them, attacking a fortified stronghold like the Hidden Hot Springs, packed with Cloud nin and their local allies? That's a death wish. Their own arrogance is the blindspot we're exploiting."
Halfway through the explanation, Minato got it. The cold, brutal logic of it settled in his gut.
Jiraiya felt a swell of pride. His student was sharp. Quick.
Before Orochimaru arrived, Jiraiya had been in charge. His style was the opposite—cautious, defensive. Minimize risk, preserve lives.
That style had lost them ground. Mile after mile, until their backs were against the wall.
And Minato, trusting his teacher completely, had simply followed orders. He hadn't been forced to grapple with these darker calculations. Even after time on the front, a part of him remained… idealistic.
Having Orochimaru and Qianyu here was a blessing. Jiraiya knew his own limits. He was a lone wolf, a brawler. Command? Not his strength.
But Orochimaru? The man was a master strategist. Back in the Second War, on their team, he and Tsunade always deferred to the snake's plans. Orochimaru had a knack for pulling victory from the jaws of defeat in impossible situations. He'd planned major campaigns.
And Qianyu? The kid's first time on a battlefield, and he orchestrated that ambush with a predator's vision. The same sharp, ruthless clarity.
No wonder they were teacher and student.
Their presence was doing something else, too. It was stripping the last of the innocence from Minato's eyes. Showing him the true face of war. The cruelty wasn't just from the enemy. Sometimes, it came from your own side. Jiraiya remembered the Second War. The countless pawns sacrificed without ever knowing they were bait. If it brought victory, the cost was acceptable.
And Qianyu's arrival… it lit a fire under Minato. Put pressure on him. Good. Pressure forged the best steel.
Jiraiya found himself looking forward to it. This war. His student, and the snake's student. Which one would grow faster, sharper?
Well, Minato was his student. Jiraiya had faith.
Five hours vanished in a blink.
The force regrouped, a shadowy mass in the predawn gloom.
Orochimaru's voice was a dry whisper. "Jiraiya. It's time."
Jiraiya cracked his neck, a wild grin spreading. "Been a while since we fought side-by-side, snake. Feels almost nostalgic."
"Adhere to the plan," Orochimaru repeated, his gaze sweeping the assembled ninja. "Once the perimeter guards are drawn into the village. You move."
Then they were gone. Two streaks of motion hurtling toward the silent village.
The rest—Minato, Qianyu, and the others—crept forward, closing the distance. They stopped at the forest's edge, a coiled spring, waiting for the signal. Waiting for hell to break loose.