Chapter 228: The Border Falls Silent
Uchiha Akira's gaze, cold and sharp as obsidian, swept over every Jōnin captain present in the command tent. Their faces were grim, determined, illuminated by the tactical maps glowing with chakra light.
"I need to remind you of one thing," Akira's voice was low, but it cut through the tense silence.
"War means sacrifice. Blood will be shed. Lives will be lost. That is the nature of our profession."
"I allow for casualties; that is the resolve every shinobi who steps onto the battlefield must possess."
"But," his voice hardened, becoming steel, "I will absolutely not tolerate mission failure due to anyone's stupidity, arrogance, or hesitation!"
"Do you understand?"
"YES, HOKAGE-SAMA!"
Dozens of Elite Jōnin roared in unison, their voices a single, unified wave of fierce, fanatical loyalty.
"Very good." Uchiha Akira nodded, a slight, cold smile touching his lips.
"Go."
"Retrieve your mission scrolls and detailed maps."
"Then," Akira's eyes seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, "let the yellow sands of the Land of Wind (風の国, Kaze no Kuni) bear witness to Konoha's fangs!"
"YES!"
Nara Shikaku stepped forward, his expression serious. He waved his hand.
"By squad order, step forward to receive your specific mission assignments!"
Anbu members, who had long been prepared, materialized from the shadows, holding sealed scrolls containing detailed orders, target coordinates, and enemy patrol routes.
"First Squad! Captain Hyūga Shigetoku!" Shikaku called out.
"Here!" A grim-faced Hyūga Jōnin stepped forward.
"Second Squad! Captain Inuzuka Gaku!"
"Here!" A fierce-looking Inuzuka Jōnin, flanked by a large ninken, stepped up.
"Third Squad! Captain Aburame Yōji!"
"Here!" A quiet, hooded Aburame took his scroll.
One after another, Elite Jōnin—all famous, respected figures within Konoha Village—stepped forward in turn. They solemnly received the scrolls that dictated the fate of their teams, and the fate of Sunagakure's border defenses.
Captains who received their missions immediately turned, bowed to the Hokage, and exited the command tent without a word, disappearing into the pre-dawn darkness to gather their team members.
The entire process was grim, silent, and ruthlessly efficient.
Just a few minutes later, the command tent was nearly empty, save for Akira and Shikaku.
"Hokage-sama," Nara Shikaku walked up to Akira, his voice a low murmur. "All units have departed."
"Mm." Akira nodded, turning back to the main map, his finger tracing the border between Fire and Wind.
Twenty elite Konoha squads, moving under the deepest cover of night, rapidly launched a simultaneous, coordinated surprise attack on thirty-seven separate targets along the Land of Wind's border...
Land of Wind, border region. Outpost Number Seventeen.
The night wind howled across the desolate dunes, a mournful, abrasive sound. It whipped up fine sand particles that struck the weathered stone walls of the outpost, making a constant, soft "shush" sound, like whispers in the dark.
High on the watchtower, two Sunagakure shinobi were hunched against the biting cold of the desert night.
"Damn it," one of the Suna-nin, a grizzled man with a jagged scar across his face, blew warm air into his cupped hands and cursed. "This cursed weather is unbearable. Sand in my eyes, sand in my mouth... sand everywhere."
"Just bear with it a bit longer, Takahashi-senpai," the other, younger shinobi, tried to comfort him, his teeth chattering slightly.
"I heard that our rotation request will finally be approved next week. Then we can return to the Village."
"Really?!" The scarred man named Takahashi immediately perked up, his misery momentarily forgotten. "Are you sure, Kenji?"
"Of course it's true!" the young ninja named Kenji said, puffing out his chest with a smug look.
"My cousin works in the logistics department. The news is very accurate! He said that although the Village is tight on funds lately, rotations will still happen on time. They have to."
"That's great! Finally!" Takahashi rubbed his hands together excitedly, a wide grin splitting his rough face.
"Once I'm back in the Village, I'm definitely going straight to the Wind Charm Inn! Going to drink until I pass out, and find some pretty girls to have fun with! I've been stuck out here for almost a year, and my mouth is practically tasteless!"
The young ninja, Kenji, chuckled shyly. "When I go back this time... I want to confess to Keiko-chan! I hope... I hope it works out!"
"Don't worry, kid," Takahashi patted his shoulder, his grin softening slightly. "A brave Suna shinobi like you? She'll say yes."
The two chatted on, talking about their wonderful, imagined lives after returning to the Village. They painted pictures of warm sake, soft beds, and softer women, completely oblivious to the dark, silent figures that had already scaled the outpost walls and were approaching them from behind.
Below, hidden in the swirling sand near the base of the watchtower, Hyūga Tokuma made a few rapid, precise hand gestures to the squad captain beside him.
His Byakugan was active, veins bulging around his temples. He scanned the interior of the outpost with penetrating clarity.
"Report, Captain. Total thirty-two hostiles inside the outpost. Eight on the two watchtowers. Eight currently on patrol within the perimeter. The remaining sixteen are all resting, asleep in the barracks."
The leading captain was an Elite Jōnin of the Uchiha Clan, Uchiha Ryūka. A veteran of the Third War, his face was hard, impassive.
He said nothing. He only made a simple, cold, throat-slitting gesture with his thumb.
"Act!" he ordered silently through hand signs.
The moment the silent order was given.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Numerous dark figures, Konoha shinobi clad in black, moved like arrows released from a bowstring. They simultaneously pounced on the outpost from different directions, their movements perfectly synchronized.
On the watchtower.
Takahashi was lost in his pleasant fantasy of drinking with pretty girls when he suddenly felt a prickling chill on the back of his neck.
He instinctively reached out to touch it, thinking it was just the cold wind.
What his fingers touched, however, was warm, sticky blood gushing from his neck... and the impossibly cold, sharp tip of a kunai emerging from his throat.
"Ugh…"
The light in Takahashi's eyes quickly faded. His body slumped down softly, his dreams dissolving into nothingness.
The young ninja, Kenji, next to him hadn't even realized what was happening. He only saw a dark figure flash past his peripheral vision... and then his consciousness plunged into eternal darkness.
He would never see the girl he loved, Keiko-chan, again.
Such was the swift, brutal cruelty of war.
Inside the outpost compound, the Sunagakure shinobi on patrol had their throats slit by Konoha shinobi who emerged from the deepest shadows, their movements silent as death. The attacks were perfectly timed, almost simultaneous. No alarms were raised.
BOOM!
The barracks door, thick and reinforced, was utterly shattered inwards by an Akimichi Clan Chūnin using Nikudan Sensha (Human Bullet Tank)!
Amidst flying wood splinters and startled cries, several pre-prepared sleeping gas bombs were accurately thrown inside by waiting Yamanaka clan members.
"Enemy attack—! Cough cough..."
"What the— Gas—!"
The Sunagakure ninja inside, jolted violently from their sleep, were just scrambling for their weapons when they inhaled a puff of the light purple smoke.
Their heads grew heavy instantly. Their world swam. They collapsed back onto their bunks, falling into a deep, final unconsciousness.
What awaited them was the cold, efficient blade of an Uchiha finishing the job.
In less than a single minute.
The entire outpost fell utterly silent. The only sound was the mournful howl of the desert wind.
Uchiha Ryūka stood in the center of the now-secured outpost. The air was thick with the metallic scent of fresh blood, mixed with the acrid remnants of the sleeping gas.
"Casualty report. Status," he commanded, his voice low.
"Report, Captain!" a Hyūga scout replied instantly. "Three of our personnel sustained minor wounds during infiltration! Thirty-two enemies confirmed eliminated! No survivors."
"Very good." Uchiha Ryūka nodded coldly, wiping his blade clean on a Suna uniform.
"Mission accomplished. Clear the battlefield of sensitive items. Prepare to withdraw immediately! Next target is Outpost Nineteen, coordinates delta-seven."
"Yes!"
And at this exact moment...
Along the hundreds of kilometers of the desolate Land of Wind border...
One Suna stronghold after another, thirty-seven in total...
...was being silently, ruthlessly uprooted. Erased from the map.
Sunagakure. Kazekage Building.
Communications Department. Deep underground.
This brightly lit, humming room was the nerve center, the intelligence hub of the entire Sunagakure military, responsible for maintaining constant contact with all front-line outposts and border strongholds.
A young communicator named Kenta was, as usual, performing routine communication checks with the various border outposts, a task scheduled every two hours.
He keyed the microphone, infusing his chakra into the long-range communication device. "This is Headquarters. Outpost Seventeen, 'Eye of the Sand Scorpion,' respond if you hear me. Over."
"..."
Only the crackling static sound of the open channel filled the communicator.
"Strange..." Kenta frowned. Outpost Seventeen was usually prompt. He increased his chakra output.
"This is Headquarters! 'Eye of the Sand Scorpion'! Respond immediately if you hear me! Acknowledge! Over!"
"..."
Still... a deathly silence.
A small, cold premonition of ill omen welled up in Kenta's heart.
He immediately switched channels, trying the next outpost on his list.
"Outpost Twenty-Two, 'Fang of the Rattlesnake'! Respond if you hear me! Over!"
"..." Silence.
"Outpost Twelve, 'Spring of the Red Sand'! Respond if you hear me! Over!"
"..." Silence.
"Outpost Thirty, 'Tumbleweed' Garrison! Respond if you hear me! Over!"
"..." Silence.
The names of one outpost after another were spoken by Kenta, his voice growing tighter, more frantic with each failed attempt.
But what answered him was always the same.
Silence.
Static.
Nothing.
His face grew paler and paler. Cold sweat began to uncontrollably seep from his forehead, dripping onto the console.
Something was wrong.
Terribly, catastrophically wrong.
One outpost losing contact might be equipment malfunction in the harsh desert environment.
Two outposts losing contact might be a strange coincidence.
But, a dozen outposts in a row... all along the eastern border... all losing contact within the same two-hour window?
This was absolutely not normal. This was... impossible.
Kenta's hands began to tremble violently. He suddenly grabbed another, highest-priority communication line—the direct emergency line—and connected straight to his superior's office in the Kazekage tower.
"Sir! SIR! Something's happened! The border! The border!"
Soon, the heavy door to the Communications Department was violently pushed open.
A tall Sunagakure Jōnin, the stern head of the Communications Department named Sako, strode in. A clear look of deep displeasure was etched on his weathered face.
"Kenta! What's all the fuss about?! Shouting over the emergency line! You've disturbed my rest! You'd better have a damn good explanation!"
"Sir... the border... the border outposts..." Kenta's voice was trembling uncontrollably. He pointed a shaking finger towards the row of silent communicators, unable to complete his sentence.
"Useless!" Sako snapped, striding towards the console. "Probably just another sandstorm interfering with the signals. Stop panicking like a Genin!"
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