The rain hadn't stopped.
It had been four full hours since they left Konoha, but the skies remained an oppressive shade of lead gray. The forest trail was a mess of mud, slick moss, and gnarled roots—nature's own obstacle course.
"Too slow."
Perched atop a thick tree branch ahead, Uchiha Fugaku didn't bother turning around. His voice, laced with disdain, cut clearly through the pattering rain.
"If this were a proper unit, we'd already be corpses in an Iwa ambush circle with how sluggish you two are."
Roughly twenty meters behind him, two figures followed in his wake.
Namikaze Minato was calm and composed, not even winded. Though his golden hair clung to his face from the rain, his azure eyes remained sharp and bright. Each leap he made landed with pinpoint control, his chakra clinging steadily to the bark as if every step had been pre-calculated.
Trailing just behind him was Nishikawa Tetsu. His breathing had quickened slightly, but his rhythm remained intact.
A closer look revealed a peculiarity: Tetsu wasn't using chakra bursts like a typical shinobi. Instead, he moved like a pendulum, swinging between trees using gravity and momentum to preserve energy.
"Sorry, Fugaku-senpai," Minato called out cheerfully. "We'll pick up the pace." He slowed down just a bit, giving his teammate room to catch up.
Fugaku cast a sidelong glance as Tetsu arrived, his frown deepening.
"Hmph. Slowing the entire team for a straggler is the dumbest move you could make, Namikaze."
He turned, and his Sharingan flashed crimson for an instant. His icy gaze fell on Tetsu. "Hey, you. If you can't keep up, say so now. I'll drop you off at the nearest outpost. Saves me the hassle of dragging your corpse out of the Land of Rain."
Tetsu wiped rain from his face and evened his breathing.
By his estimates, their pace was about 40 kilometers per hour.
A breeze for a Special Jōnin like Fugaku. Challenging but manageable for a prodigy like Minato. For someone with below-average chakra like himself—it was already pushing the limit.
"No need for concern, senpai," Tetsu replied evenly.
Fugaku snorted and accelerated again. "One more hour. If you're not at the next waypoint by then, you're sleeping in a mud pit tonight."
By dusk, the rain had softened.
The trio finally reached a dry recess beneath a cliff just before nightfall.
It was sheltered from the wind with a clear field of view—perfect for a temporary camp.
"Ten-minute break. Then we move again. We're crossing the Fire Country border under night cover."
Fugaku issued the order, then leapt to a boulder above them. He sat cross-legged, back to the others, watching the surroundings.
His tone had been harsh—but he'd clearly left the safest spot for the two Genin.
Minato pulled some rations from his pouch and handed one to Tetsu. "Here. Eat up. Fugaku-senpai talks tough, but he's not that bad."
"Dominant personality with light obsessive tendencies and tsundere traits," Tetsu muttered, chewing on the hard ration pill. "Difficult to work with, but dependable in a team."
Minato blinked, then gave a helpless smile. "You always use such… specific words to describe people."
Rather than rest, Tetsu stood up and walked toward the edge of the cliff.
He crouched by some bushes and began rummaging.
From above, Fugaku's ear twitched. He turned just in time to see Tetsu carefully digging up a purple-veined plant with a kunai, then wrapping it in cloth and tucking it into his pouch.
"What the hell are you doing?" Fugaku called, bewildered. "That's just a weed. You should be recovering chakra, not playing in the mud."
"This isn't a weed, Fugaku-senpai."
Tetsu dusted his hands off. His expression was calm. "It's a variant of aconite. Its roots contain high levels of alkaloids. Properly extracted, just three milligrams can paralyze an adult for about fifteen seconds."
Fugaku blinked, then scoffed. "Pointless trickery. Against true power like the Sharingan your second-rate poison won't even get a chance to work."
"There's no such thing as a useless tool," Tetsu replied, rising. "Only someone who doesn't know how to use it. Besides, it's free. Explosive tags cost nearly three hundred ryō. Poison is nature's gift."
"Cheapskate."
Fugaku's evaluation was blunt. He turned away.
But within moments, something else caught his eye.
Tetsu was now pulling a pouch of odd gray powder from his bag, carefully sprinkling it along the perimeter of the camp in a shallow trench.
"What now…? Never mind, I don't care," Fugaku muttered, scowling.
The Uchiha clan had a refined combat aesthetic—elegant Fire Release, flawless shuriken techniques, and the invincible Sharingan. Tetsu's dirt-level tinkering rubbed him the wrong way.
"This is a mixture of aluminum and iron oxide," Tetsu narrated to himself, as if performing a ritual. "With just a small ignition source, it'll reach over 2,500°C. Even in this damp weather… especially if I pair it with that..."
His eyes fell on a phosphorus-laced rock nearby, and he smirked.
Minato leaned closer, curious. "This part of science too?"
"This is art." Tetsu brushed off his hands. "Art is... explosion."
"Ugh," Fugaku grunted from above. "Playing with fire? You're showing off fake fine in front of an Uchiha. That's like bragging about swords to a samurai."
He dropped down from the rock, dusting off his pants.
"Break's over. We're entering the real danger zone now. Especially you, Nishikawa Tetsu."
He walked up to Tetsu and fixed him with a cold stare.
His voice was still stiff, but now carried a sharper edge—less scorn, more warning.
"If your little tricks can kill enemies, I'll allow it. But if they slow us down—"
He reached out and tapped Tetsu's forehead protector.
"Even if Lord Jiraiya himself ordered me, I won't turn back for you. Understood?"
Tetsu looked up, meeting the future clan head's gaze squarely.
"Understood. If I fall behind—please don't turn back."
Because if you do, my traps might blow you up too, he finished silently.
"Move out."
With a single word, Fugaku vanished into the rain-soaked trees once more.
Minato followed, his golden hair streaking behind like a comet.
Tetsu took in a deep breath of damp air, summoned chakra to his soles, and though his takeoff lacked flair, it was firm. He pursued them, steady and silent.