The dense forest was drenched in heavy rain, the sky gray like a thick veil over everything. Countless raindrops, the size of beans, formed a curtain, beating against the trees and snapping fragile branches and leaves. Bone-chilling wind pierced through clothes, seeping deep into the bones.
"Hurry up! Are you looking for death!"
"Stop dawdling!"
"If we don't reach the destination tonight, none of you will eat!"
The ferocious escort samurai shouted hoarsely, whipping leather to drive the laborers forward.
Along the forest's main road, a convoy of hundreds of ragged laborers pulled wooden carts by hand. Covered with canvas, the contents were unknown, but deep ruts in the mud showed they carried heavy loads. The rain slicked the path, yet the laborers pressed on, step by step.
Fewer than ten escort samurai accompanied them, a small squad clad in straw raincoats and hats. They braved the storm lightly, merely watching the laborers struggle under the weight of their burdens. The overloaded carts groaned, creaking ominously as their ruts disappeared into the misty rain ahead.
Suddenly, a figure appeared on the road, clad in a raincoat and hat, observing the retreating convoy. It was Uchiha Fugaku.
After six months of overseas travel, he had finally arrived in the Land of Rainbows in the thirty-fourth year of Konoha, May. The journey had been perilous; while docked in the Land of Water, he rescued a boy and narrowly avoided losing an arm to a monstrous sea creature. Clearly, coastal sea-king creatures were not to be underestimated. Fortunately, he had reached his destination safely.
The Land of Rainbows was one of the most remote regions in the Ninja World, surviving largely on fishing. Two years ago, a mine was discovered on Fog Mountain, bringing hope for growth. But the nation lacked mining expertise and had to sell the mining rights to a merchant named Imu. Assassinating Imu was Fugaku's mission.
Three days later, in a small, cramped room, a short, thin, middle-aged man in tattered clothes stared out at the rain. He was Fugaku, who had disguised himself by knocking out a local worker and assuming his appearance. The man was simple, spoke little, and drew no suspicion.
"Hey brother, what are you looking at?"
Fugaku turned to see a sharp-eared, bright-eyed youth grinning at him. The boy was a miner too, sent by his poor family to earn a living, chattering constantly. Fugaku learned much from him without replying.
"Just watching the rain. It's been falling for a month, and no one knows when it will stop."
"Who can blame it? Boats can't sail in this weather. My family lives off the little I bring home. This damn sky is trying to kill us," the youth cursed.
Fugaku silently muttered, "Damn it, that cursed sky," but did not speak aloud.
The youth sat beside him on the rickety bed made from old doors, creaking under his weight.
"Brother, I heard there's a far-off country even worse than ours—rain all year. Did you know?"
Fugaku feigned surprise. "Never heard of it. Who told you?"
"The big-bearded fish seller at the harbor. He travels with a fleet," the youth said proudly.
Fugaku stayed silent, but the youth didn't feel awkward; he knew this man rarely spoke, and now he had learned much in silence.
"Brother, have you ever thought about seeing the world?"
Fugaku shook his head. "No…"
"You're settled now, so you're steadier, but I'm not. I want to see the world before I die."
"The outside isn't always as wonderful as you imagine," Fugaku replied, recalling the countless civilians lost during the two Ninja World Wars.
"That's still better than staying here forever. I can already picture life at forty—sorry, I'm not talking about you."
"What about your family? Don't you have two younger sisters?"
"Exactly. Because of them, I have to try. Otherwise, I can't even buy them decent clothes."
Fugaku fell silent, reflecting on the youth's determination. The boy fetched two worn bowls, filled them with tea, and handed one to Fugaku.
"Here's to leaving soon. No wine, just tea. If I become wealthy, I won't forget you, brother."
Fugaku didn't mock him; he silently remembered the civilian ninjas back in Konoha. As clan chief, he rarely interacted with them, but the youth's words reminded him of their struggles.
"It probably isn't easy for them to become ninjas," he thought.
The bowls clinked as Fugaku drained his cup and stood.
"Brother, where are you going?"
"To the latrine. Be right back," he replied, stepping into the rain.
The Fog Mountain camp was massive, divided into three zones. The northern section, half the camp, held mining and smelting operations with rows of wooden huts housing thousands of laborers. Most lived in the mine itself, lives deemed cheap; tunnel collapses were common and ignored.
The southern section housed a few hundred private soldiers under Imu. At the core of the southern area stood a mansion, home to Imu's elite samurai and ninja guards.
Fugaku, claiming to go to the latrine, had climbed a tree overlooking the mansion. He prepared a hand seal as rain poured.
"Boom, boom, boom!"
Explosions erupted in the northern mine.
"The mine's exploding!"
"Help! Someone, quick!"
As the guards rushed to save the laborers, Fugaku drew a kunai.
"If this mission succeeds, I'll take that youth with me to the Land of Fire," he thought, then used Body Flicker Technique to dash toward the mansion.