[Ding! NIN +10, ENG +5. Would you like to pick them up?]
As the pre-dawn light began to touch the horizon, Tatsuma looked at the chakra metal short sword in his hand—now significantly extended by a shimmering aura of Wind Style chakra—and listened to the pings in his head. A weary but genuine smile spread across his face.
Over the past few years, Tatsuma had come to realize that he possessed a fiercely competitive streak. He enjoyed the pressure of a wager; the sense of urgency forced his growth more than any idle training ever could.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Just as he was basking in his success, his alarm clock went off nearby. The timing was almost poetic—he had succeeded with barely minutes to spare. He reached over and silenced it. If he told anyone he had mastered a modified B-rank jutsu precisely on the thirty-sixth hour, they probably wouldn't believe him.
Clap, clap, clap.
A thin figure emerged from the shadows of the forest. It was Orochimaru. He was clapping slowly, a look of genuine intrigue on his face. "I truly didn't expect you to master it in such a short window. And your method... it was fascinating. It didn't look like you were learning a jutsu; it looked like you were building a house, brick by meticulous brick."
Tatsuma waved his hand, and the Gale Blade enveloping his sword dissipated. "Most ninjutsu are just combinations of chakra control, nature transformation, and shape transformation," he replied with a smile. "As long as you understand those three pillars, learning isn't that difficult. As for my method... well, since my talent is mediocre, I have to rely on a bit of cleverness to speed things up."
Orochimaru let out a dry, raspy laugh at Tatsuma's claim of "mediocre talent." He shook his head. "I've heard Tsunade talk about your chakra control, and Jiraiya mentioned your progress in nature transformation... but your Shape Transformation? That is far beyond the level of any jutsu you currently possess."
Tatsuma stiffened. He hadn't expected Orochimaru to be observant enough to dissect his mechanical movements down to the specific theory. He quickly improvised. "I'm in the middle of developing a new technique that requires extreme shape transformation, so I've been practicing it constantly."
"Oh... is that so?"
Orochimaru's golden eyes lingered on him, drawing out the syllable with a sense of calculation. He had watched Tatsuma's entire thirty-six-hour session. Normal ninjas didn't train shape transformation to this degree. Even a medical ninja using the Chakra Scalpel—a jutsu famous for its demanding shape and control—didn't need a foundation this precise.
In his mind, Orochimaru ran through the possibilities. Very few elemental jutsu or even sealing arts required this level of structural integrity. Most nature and shape requirements were balanced at a similar tier, but Tatsuma's shape mastery was leagues ahead of his current nature manipulation.
If he's not lying, then whatever he's developing isn't a standard elemental jutsu. Could it be... Orochimaru frowned. A thought flashed through his mind: was Tatsuma trying to replicate the Second Lord's work with composite ninjutsu or perhaps a pseudo-Kekkei Genkai?
He realized then that everyone around him seemed to be progressing at an absurd rate. Tsunade was learning Mito's personal secrets, Jiraiya was off chasing the "Sage Mode" of the First Lord, and even a child like Tatsuma was developing something high-level.
Have I been slacking? Orochimaru wondered. Or is it just that everyone I know is a freak of nature?
Seeing Orochimaru drift into his usual "spacey" state, Tatsuma felt a bit awkward. He cleared his throat. Orochimaru blinked, snapping back to reality, and waved a hand. "Go get some rest. We move out in the morning."
"Er... yes, Lord Orochimaru."
Tatsuma nodded and turned to leave, but by the time he looked back to say a formal goodbye, Orochimaru had already vanished in a puff of smoke.
In a nearby tent, the real Orochimaru sat up on his bed, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
Tatsuma, meanwhile, slept like the dead. Exhaustion is the ultimate cure for insomnia. He slept straight through the night until a fellow ninja in his tent shook him awake at dawn.
The camp's water supply was limited. Even though they were in the Land of Rivers, they couldn't just drink from the streams. Suna's lead commander was Chiyo, and using the local water before it was triple-checked for poison was a death sentence. All water was collected, verified by Tsunade's team, and then rationed strictly.
As a result, Tatsuma didn't even have enough water to wash his face. He brushed his teeth and used his fingers to clear the sleep from his eyes. It was a good thing it was early spring; if it had been summer, the hygiene situation would have been unbearable.
After a quick pack, Tatsuma streamlined his gear. He left most of his heavy sealing scrolls and medical crates at the base, opting for a lightweight combat load: two sets of throwing tools, two basic medical kits, and a handful of tags, smoke bombs, and Soldier Pills. He buckled his short sword to his waist and headed to the assembly point.
He checked his mission scroll and fell into line with his assigned unit. After exchanging a few brief greetings with his squadmates, Orochimaru appeared.
One thing was for sure: Orochimaru was an efficient leader. He didn't waste time with long-winded speeches. He swept his gaze over the thousand-plus assembled ninjas, exchanged a few hand signals with the Jonin, and the column began to move.
"Tatsuma-kun, if we run into trouble, remember to stay back. We'll cover you."
A young Jonin riding a large ninja hound smiled down at him as they marched. Tatsuma offered a helpless smile. He appreciated the sentiment, but he had truly made up his mind to be a combatant today.
"Inuzuka Shin-senpai, you don't need to worry about me so much," he said politely.
Shin laughed, taking the polite rejection as typical "young genius" bravado. As the column pushed deeper into the woods, Shin and his hound suddenly tensed up. Tatsuma's brow furrowed simultaneously.
"Ambush. Five hundred meters ahead," they said, almost in unison.
"Oh?" Shin looked at Tatsuma with genuine surprise. Tatsuma shrugged. "I'm a sensory type too."
Shin nodded, impressed. He looked ahead toward the front of the column where Orochimaru was leading. "Lord Orochimaru must have noticed already. Don't break formation."
Tatsuma looked at Orochimaru. The Sannin had abandoned his usual cautious, calculated gait and was now charging forward like a total greenhorn. Tatsuma couldn't help but whisper, "Lord Orochimaru's acting is... actually pretty bad."
BOOM!
Seconds later, Orochimaru "clumsily" blundered into the first line of the ambush. After a series of explosions, his voice echoed through the smoke: "Keep moving! Don't let them stall us!"
Tatsuma and Shin exchanged a glance and followed. But as the march continued, Tatsuma's scowl deepened. They had already passed through several obvious Suna ambush points, yet Orochimaru hadn't ordered a single counter-strike.
By ignoring the traps, the Konoha force was effectively walking deeper and deeper into a closing circle.
"It's about time for the real show to start," Shin said, leaping off his hound's back and drawing a kunai. He scanned the surrounding brush.
"Couldn't hold it back anymore?" Orochimaru, at the front, let out an "elegant" smirk.
"Is Tsunade not with you?"
Suddenly, the glint of steel flashed through the dense trees, and a weathered, feminine voice echoed through the forest.
"Careful! Poison!" Shin roared.
Countless kunai and blurred shadows erupted from the greenery, swarming the Konoha column. Shin shot a worried glance at Tatsuma, only to find the boy had already unsheathed his blade, his eyes cold and focused.
"What a wonderful ambush. You're not bad for an enemy!"
To Shin's utter bewilderment, Tatsuma actually praised the opponent. He batted aside an incoming kunai and lunged into the brush. Before Shin could even move to assist, a scream of agony tore through the trees.
"Aaargh! Why did your blade... get so long?!"
"It's early morning," Tatsuma's voice drifted back, dripping with mock innocence. "Don't tell me an old man like you can't get it up anymore..."