Chapter 53: The Calm Before the Storm
The sun had not yet fully set when Orochimaru led the contingent of Konoha ninja out from their base. They moved with practiced silence, a shadowy procession through the fading light. By the time true darkness had fallen, they were concealed in a dense wood several hundred meters from the outskirts of Yugakure.
Orochimaru's gaze, cold and expectant, fell upon the three sensory ninja in their ranks. They understood the unspoken command immediately. Slipping away from the main force, they began their perilous approach toward the village, their chakra senses extended like delicate, invisible webs, probing for danger.
The main group settled in to wait, the silence of the forest pressing in on them. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the night breeze.
Two hours trickled by, the tension thickening with each passing minute. The night was now deep and heavy. The longer the sensory team was gone, the higher the probability they had been discovered and killed.
Another thirty minutes passed. Finally, a flicker of movement at the edge of the woods. Two of the three sensory ninja returned. One of them was missing his left arm, the stump crudely bandaged and still seeping blood. He staggered, his face pale with pain and blood loss, and would have fallen if Minato Namikaze hadn't blurred into motion, catching him and supporting his weight.
The two survivors made their report to Orochimaru, their voices strained. The third member of their team had been detected and killed by a Kumo patrol before even reaching the village walls. His sacrifice, however, had allowed the other two to slip inside. They had managed to map the approximate distribution of shinobi within Yugakure before being discovered by the village's own sensory units on their way out. Escaping with only the loss of an arm was, they acknowledged, a stroke of immense luck.
Orochimaru listened, his expression unchanging. "Your mission is complete. You have my thanks. Rest now."
Minato felt a sickening twist in his gut. The operation hadn't even properly begun, and they had already lost a man. Worse, the Kumo-nin now knew that Konoha scouts had infiltrated Yugakure. In Minato's mind, this changed everything. Attacking a fortified position that was now on alert seemed like madness, a guaranteed path to a slaughter.
Yet, Orochimaru's next command made Minato's blood run cold.
"The operation commences at 0400 hours," Orochimaru declared, his voice cutting through the anxious silence. "Five hours from now. Jiraiya and I will initiate. The rest of you will adhere strictly to the plan."
Minato was baffled. How could Orochimaru proceed when the enemy was forewarned?
As the others began their final preparations, Jiraiya sat down beside his troubled student. "You're wondering why we're still going through with it," he said, not as a question.
"Yes, Master Jiraiya," Minato admitted, his voice low. "I don't understand. They know we were here."
Jiraiya offered a grim smile. "They know we sent scouts. They will assume we were gathering intelligence on their troop placements in the region. They will not assume we are planning an attack. Not on a target this strong. They are aware of our numbers, Minato. They know the strength disparity is vast. In their eyes, for us to attack Yugakure—a well-defended base with both Kumo and local ninja—would be suicide. They believe we are incapable of such audacity. Arrogance is a blindness all its own."
Halfway through Jiraiya's explanation, the logic dawned on Minato. It was a brutal, cynical logic, but it was sound. The Kumo command would see the scouting mission as a sign of weakness, of reconnaissance, not of imminent assault.
Jiraiya watched the understanding settle on Minato's face, pleased by his quick comprehension. Before Orochimaru's arrival, Jiraiya had been in command, and his style was fundamentally different—cautious, prioritizing preservation of life. It was a style that had earned him the loyalty of his men, but it had also led to their steady, grinding retreat. Minato, trusting his master implicitly, had been an excellent executor of orders but had not been forced to confront the colder, strategic calculus of war. He was still, at his core, an idealist on a battlefield that had no room for them.
Jiraiya knew this was a necessary, if painful, lesson. The arrival of Orochimaru and Kagenori was a boon. Jiraiya was self-aware enough to know he was a brilliant fighter and a terrible grand strategist. Orochimaru was the opposite. During the Second War, it was often Orochimaru's ruthless plans that had extracted them from impossible situations. And Kagenori... the boy was a natural, his mind already working in the same cold, efficient patterns.
This new pressure, this exposure to a different way of war, was good for Minato. It would force him to grow, to harden his resolve without breaking his spirit. Jiraiya felt a spark of rivalry. He was curious to see who would evolve faster in the crucible of this war—his own compassionate, brilliant student, or Orochimaru's detached, cunning prodigy.
Five hours passed with the slow, inexorable weight of impending conflict.
The Konoha force gathered once more in the moonlit clearing.
Orochimaru turned to Jiraiya. "It's time."
Jiraiya cracked his neck, a fierce grin spreading across his face. "It's been too long, Orochimaru. Let's remind them why they fear the Sannin."
Orochimaru addressed the assembled shinobi one last time, his voice a low hiss. "Remember the plan. Wait for the perimeter guards to be drawn into the village. Then, you move."
With that, the two legendary shinobi became blurs, shooting toward the sleeping silhouette of Yugakure. The rest of the force, Kagenori and Minato among them, crept forward to their designated positions, their hearts pounding in their chests, waiting for the signal—the chaos that would be their cue to drench the Land of Hot Springs in blood.