Judging by the time Hagoromo's squad had spent on the mission versus the distance they had actually covered, the two seemed wildly disproportionate. But this was enemy territory—every step forward required an extra measure of caution.
And so, a mere fifty kilometers took them three days and four nights to traverse.
On the fourth day, whether by providence or spite, the weather changed.
The rain stopped.
The shift in weather came with both advantages and disadvantages.
On the positive side, clearer conditions were beneficial for the long-range reconnaissance Hagoromo's team was about to conduct.
On the negative side, visibility improved equally for both sides. The enemy would find it easier to spot intruders. Worse still, once the rain stopped, they lost the natural advantage of having their tracks constantly erased. Rain-soaked mud was far more likely to preserve footprints, making pursuit and detection much easier.
The first problem could be managed by better concealment.
The second was genuinely dangerous.
From the standpoint of mission priority, no matter how risky things became, the task still had to be carried out.
From the standpoint of valuing life, Hagoromo's squad halted three kilometers short of the enemy encampment.
They would not—and could not—go any closer.
Given the density of enemy forces ahead and the unpredictable reconnaissance methods Amegakure might employ, advancing further would have been equivalent to throwing themselves directly into the enemy's guns.
At this distance, Hagoromo alone could not observe the target clearly. The next phase of the mission would therefore rely primarily on Yamashiro Aoba.
Aoba was also a summoning-type ninja, but unlike Hagoromo's conspicuous summons, his were far more discreet.
Crows.
"Ready?" Hagoromo asked quietly. "Summoning?"
Aoba responded with a hand signal indicating no problem.
The squad split into pairs, each hiding in separate trees. Hagoromo and Aoba formed one pair, responsible for observing the encampment. Kurenai and Asuma paired up to handle close-range security.
To minimize the chakra disturbance caused by ninjutsu, Aoba had already summoned more than a dozen crows from a safe distance earlier—birds indistinguishable from ordinary ones.
After responding to Hagoromo, Aoba released the first crow.
A simple summoning combined with a basic possession jutsu formed the entirety of Aoba's reconnaissance method. He attached a portion of his consciousness to the crow, allowing rudimentary control and shared vision.
The crow flew over the Rain Village encampment, never lingering—at most circling once before leaving.
Aoba knelt with a blank sheet of paper on his knee. One hand covered his left eye; the other gripped a pen, rapidly recording whatever flashed through the crow's field of vision.
Multitasking like this would have been trivial for Hagoromo, whose mental processing bordered on inhuman—but for a young ninja without any "cheats," the mental strain on Aoba was immense.
A single crow could only see so much. To ensure accuracy, multiple flyovers were necessary. But they couldn't be done at regular intervals—patterns like "once every thirty minutes" were out of the question.
From an efficiency standpoint, sending several crows at once would have been ideal. But given the mental burden on Aoba, slow and steady was the only option.
The task sounded simple when described—but to accomplish it, Hagoromo's squad had to remain hidden there the entire day.
During the final flyover, Aoba attempted to let the crow descend into the encampment itself, mimicking the natural behavior of a thirsty bird landing to find water.
That was when the accident happened.
A shuriken came flying in from nowhere, wobbling slightly as it cut through the air.
Fortunately, the throw lacked killing intent—it seemed more like an attempt to scare the bird away, as casual as a ninja academy student practicing aim.
Even better, Aoba spotted it in time.
He forced the crow into an extreme evasive maneuver and immediately sent it retreating.
That close call nearly made Aoba jump out of his skin.
Too dangerous.
An ordinary crow hit by a shuriken would just explode in feathers and blood.
A summoned crow, however, would disappear with a poof.
A suspicious summoned creature vanishing above the encampment—any shinobi could guess what that meant.
They had almost been exposed.
Fortunately, disaster was avoided.
The results of the reconnaissance were still significant.
According to Konoha's prior intelligence, the encampment had housed six to eight hundred Rain shinobi. Now, however, a large portion of them were gone—the remaining number was below two hundred.
This suggested that Amegakure was preparing for action.
And judging by the reduction rather than an increase in forces, that action was likely not directed at Konoha.
As for what Hanzō of the Salamander was planning, that was a problem for Konoha's upper leadership. For Hagoromo's squad, the intelligence they'd gathered was already timely and valuable.
After nightfall, the squad began withdrawing along their planned route.
The mission was largely complete. All that remained was to return safely to the Land of Fire.
The return was noticeably faster than the approach. They were retracing their steps, and while they couldn't claim familiarity, at least the terrain and enemy movements were no longer completely unknown.
But as they moved farther away from the encampment, Hagoromo sensed something was wrong.
The Rain Village patrol squads were gone.
All of them.
He signaled the team to heighten their caution.
Two hours later, they stopped abruptly.
The four gathered together. Given the circumstances, Hagoromo spoke aloud.
"Did you hear that?"
All three nodded.
"Heard it."
In the stillness of the night, the crisp clang of kunai and shuriken colliding carried unusually far.
Someone was fighting ahead—and one side was almost certainly Amegakure. The missing patrols were likely pursuing that enemy.
After a few minutes of consideration, Hagoromo decided to investigate. Understanding what had happened was important—but more importantly, the battle lay directly along their withdrawal route.
Changing routes unnecessarily was dangerous.
They advanced carefully.
Soon, light appeared ahead—trees burning, likely ignited by Fire Release.
Then they saw the bodies.
Not one.
A pile.
After confirming there were no enemies nearby, Hagoromo crouched down and examined them closely.
The Rain shinobi had died horribly. Their bodies were desiccated, shriveled like mummies. Their mouths were stretched wide open, and together with their empty eye sockets, formed three gaping holes in their faces.
After checking several corpses, all shared the same condition.
Hagoromo immediately thought of a specific type of ninjutsu.
This had been done by a very powerful shinobi.
Hagoromo had seen plenty of dead ninja before and considered his mental fortitude solid—but what startled him next wasn't the corpses.
It was his teammate.
This was when he truly realized that, in some respects, he still couldn't compare to native shinobi of this world.
Kurenai had also examined the bodies.
At this point in time, she wasn't yet the cool, aloof kunoichi she would later become. She could still be categorized as… a loli.
In the firelight, her face was clearly illuminated. She sniffed delicately, blinked her large eyes once or twice, and then murmured softly at the sight of the corpses:
"…The scent of malt."
That sweet, innocent tone caused Hagoromo's mind to automatically fill in the rest:
Experts, come try this new original dish—candied ninja!
He could practically see her plating the bodies while they were still warm.
A girl who could say something like that in front of such corpses—who would dare marry her?
…Well.
There was someone in the squad who would.
In any case, Hagoromo looked at her with renewed respect.
Loli Kurenai… Kamishiro Hagoromo salutes you as a true man.
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