"Lord Hokage asked me to bring this to you."
Lock placed the heavy pack beside Jiraiya's table, then grabbed a rice ball from a nearby tray and started eating.
"I came straight here without stopping to rest," he said between bites. "If you've got anything better than this, don't hold out on me."
Jiraiya shot him a glare. "You're lucky I don't throw you back outside. I'll have someone bring food — try not to eat the whole camp."
He barked a few orders to a passing Chūnin, then turned back, his expression more serious.
"So, what did the old man say?"
Lock swallowed the last bite and replied, "He told me to tell you this personally — the border must hold. If Iwagakure breaks through, the Fire Daimyō and the nobles will put immense pressure on him. In short, everything depends on you."
Jiraiya let out a dry laugh. "Depend on me? With what? We're barely three hundred men out here — and they've sent thousands. Right now, they're hesitating because they're not sure of our exact strength. But once they figure it out…" He shook his head. "It'll be a slaughter."
Under normal circumstances, Jiraiya would've been confident, but not this time. He knew the scale of the enemy force — and no matter how powerful a shinobi might be, sheer numbers weighted their own.
Lock leaned back casually. "Lord Hokage has already dispatched reinforcements, led by some of the village's elite Jōnin. But they'll take several days to reach us. All we have to do is hold until then."
"Easy to say," Jiraiya muttered. "You've never seen what a real war looks like, have you? One wrong decision, one moment of hesitation — and the entire front collapses."
Lock didn't argue. "Maybe. But I've faced death before. You learn fast when the only other option is dying."
He reached for the pack again and checked the straps. "Lord Hokage also gave me another assignment — gather intelligence on Iwagakure's movements. I need to know exactly what we're dealing with."
Jiraiya's face tightened. "You're going alone?"
"Yes. It's safer that way."
Jiraiya frowned deeply. "Safer? Don't kid yourself. They'll be expecting infiltrators now — every route will be watched. Even for someone like you, that's a death wish."
Lock smiled slightly beneath his mask. "Maybe. But if I bring anyone else, it'll slow me down. My techniques work best solo — not in a squad."
Jiraiya sighed heavily. He knew Lock wasn't wrong. His movement techniques were unique, and he was one of the few who could move unseen across miles of enemy territory. Still, sending him alone felt like rolling the dice with fate.
"So far, how many times has Iwa attacked?" Lock asked.
Jiraiya crossed his arms. "Twice. Both times, they came hard and fast. We barely held them off — killed plenty of them, but our losses weren't small either. If this keeps up, we'll be overrun before reinforcements arrive."
Lock's expression grew sharper. "Then I'll move tonight. If I can find their camp, I might be able to slow them down — or at least give us an edge."
Jiraiya shook his head. "You just got here, idiot. Take a night to rest. You might not burn chakra with that teleport trick of yours, but it still wears your body down. Move out at dawn — you'll need your head clear."
Lock hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. One night."
The Next Morning
Before sunrise, Lock was already gone.
He crossed the border alone, his movements silent as mist. Ahead lay the Land of Grass, a small, neutral country wedged between the Land of Earth and the Land of Fire — the perfect staging ground for war.
The Grass Daimyō, terrified of Iwagakure's might, had allowed them to establish a forward base inside his own territory. Lock's mission was to find it — and to learn exactly how large Iwa's invasion force was.
Teleporting through enemy land was out of the question; he couldn't risk skipping over crucial information or alerting scouts. Instead, he moved at ground level — swift, cautious, watching every movement of the forest and every flicker of chakra in the air.
He also avoided using his messenger hawk. Flying low-risk exposure, and flying high meant he'd see nothing. For this mission, stealth mattered more than speed.
As the sun rose over the mist-covered plains of the Land of Grass, Lock melted into the terrain — a shadow moving quietly toward the heart of the enemy's army.
The war had begun, and he was walking straight into it.
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