Chapter 63: The Blood-Slicked Rain – A Mirror of the Past
While the white lights of the Vortex Engine illuminated the rising spires of Uzushiogakure, the Land of Rain remained trapped in a perpetual, suffocating gray. Here, the "Will of Fire" was not a warm glow; it was a desperate, flickering flame struggling to stay lit in a deluge of blood and mud.
The Rain Front: The Brink of Collapse some day ago
Tsunade Senju slammed her medical scalpel into a tray with a force that rattled the surgical tent. Her blonde hair was matted with grime, and her green coat was stained a shade of crimson that no amount of rain could wash away.
"Next!" she barked, her voice hoarse.
"Tsunade-sama, we're out of blood suppressants!" a medic cried out, dodging a spray of gore from a dying shinobi.
Tsunade didn't look up. Her hands were glowing with a frantic, emerald-green chakra as she knit together the shattered organs of a Konoha Jonin. "Then use the Uzumaki sealing-binds! Tighten the flow manually!"
Beside her, Orochimaru stood at the tent's entrance, his pale skin appearing almost translucent against the dark sky. He wasn't helping; he was watching the death with a detached, hungry curiosity. Jiraiya sat on a crate nearby, his usual boisterousness replaced by a grim, hollow stare as he cleaned his kunai. They weren't the "Sannin" yet—not in name—but they were the only pillars holding the front together.
"The Stone is pushing from the North, and Hanzo's men are picketing our supply lines," Orochimaru hissed, his tongue flicking over his lips. "If we don't get reinforcements soon, we won't have a front to defend."
"The reinforcements were supposed to come from the coast," Jiraiya muttered. "But the Mist hit Uzushio. The Council says the Whirlpool is gone."
Tsunade froze. The emerald glow of her hands flickered. "Uzushio is not gone. My grandmother is Uzumaki. That island doesn't just sink."
Suddenly, a messenger hawk—drenched and shivering—dived into the tent. It carried a high-priority seal from the Hokage's office.
Tsunade snatched the scroll. As she read, her eyes widened.
Uzushio stands. Nawaki is alive. The Wood Style has stabilized.
"He's alive," she whispered, a single tear cutting a track through the mud on her cheek. Then, her eyes narrowed as she read the rest—the report of Rimon's defiance and the order to stay at the front while Nawaki remained on the island. "Rimon... that arrogant brat actually did it. He's holding the island against the world."
"What is it?" Jiraiya asked, standing up.
"The Whirlpool is awake," Tsunade said, her voice regaining its legendary iron. "And if Rimon can hold off three nations, we can hold this damn mud-hole. Get back to your posts! We aren't dying today!"
The Migration of the Desperate Current Day
While the commanders fought a war of attrition, the "Vortex Caravan" continued its silent work.
In the chaotic borderlands between the Rain and the Fire, a group of nearly fifty refugees stumbled through a mountain pass. These weren't just farmers; they were the Scattered Branches.
Among them was an elderly man with fading red hair, carrying a crate of ancient, moldy scrolls—a former archivist of the Uzumaki who had been living as a beggar. Beside him was a group of iron-smiths from a neutral territory whose forge had been requisitioned by the Stone.
"Is it true?" the smith whispered to the hooded Uzumaki scout leading them. "The Patriarch truly has a forge that breathes gravity?"
"You'll see it for yourself by morning," the scout replied, checking his Kagura-sense. "Move fast. An Iwa patrol is two miles East."
They weren't just coming for safety. They were coming because the word was spreading through the underground: Uzushiogakure is the only place left where a person's life is worth more than their village's ambition.
The Arrival at the Secret Cove
By the middle of the night, the caravan reached the hidden cove on the Western side of Uzushio. As the transport ships glided into the harbor, the refugees didn't see the ruin they expected.
They saw the Vortex Engine's light reflecting off the water. They saw the scaffolding of a city that was growing upward, not just being patched.
As the ramp lowered, the refugees were met by Franky and Dako.
"SU-PER! More hands for the forge!" Franky shouted, his mechanical shoulders gleaming under the new electric lights.
The master archivist stepped off the boat, clutching his scrolls. He looked up at the Research Tower, then at the "Iron Guard" patrolling the docks. He fell to his knees, touching the cold, salt-stained stone of the island.
"The blood is back," the old man sobbed. "The pulse of the Whirlpool... I can feel it in the ground."
From the balcony of the Tower, Rimon watched the new arrivals being integrated. Every person who stepped off those boats was a slap in the face to the Great Nations.
> [Population Milestone Reached: 1,500 Citizens]
> [Sovereignty Level: 64% - Tier 2 Advancement Imminent]
>
Rimon turned as Luffy joined him on the balcony, chewing on a piece of dried meat.
"More friends?" Luffy asked, grinning.
"More family, Luffy," Rimon replied. "And just in time. Tomorrow is Day Six. And after that you guys will go back to your world to continue your adventure.
Rimon looked back at the maps. He could feel the tension in the Rain through his connection to the Uzumaki scouts. The war was a meat-grinder, and Tsunade was in the heart of it.