Chapter 69: The Calculus of Retreat
Kagenori stood at the head of the column, his face an impassive mask as he surveyed the two teams of sixteen. Five days had passed since their request for reinforcements had been sent to Konoha. Calculating the distance and the time needed to mobilize, he estimated they needed to hold this new line for at least another thirty-six hours. His entire command was predicated on that single, brutal number.
At the rear of the formation, Jiraiya let out a heavy sigh, his eyes on Kagenori's rigid back. "He's just like you, your disciple. Brilliant, but so cold. They're all comrades. Why use such heartless words?"
Orochimaru didn't bother to look at him, his gaze fixed on the tree line where the enemy would emerge. "A commander sees subordinates, not comrades. Only with that detachment can he make clear, unbiased judgments. Kagenori's method is correct. He establishes absolute authority first. Without discipline, there is only chaos. You are too sentimental on the battlefield, Jiraiya. It constrains you. Sometimes, sacrifice is necessary to prevent greater loss."
Jiraiya shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "Which is why I'm not suited for large-scale command. It's a shame he and Minato are so at odds. Under different circumstances, they could have been a powerful team, like us." He glanced at his old friend. "Don't you think? Maybe this war will change things. Maybe they'll find common ground."
Orochimaru finally turned his head, giving Jiraiya a look of such profound, almost pitying, amusement that it silenced the Toad Sage. "Think what you wish," Orochimaru said, his voice a soft hiss before he turned away.
His thoughts, however, were far darker. He and the boy he had mentored were both unshackled, driven by singular, all-consuming goals. For Orochimaru, it was the forbidden knowledge of immortality. For Kagenori, it was the safety of Uzumaki Kushina. They were useful to each other now, a partnership of convenience. But Orochimaru knew with cold certainty that if their paths ever diverged on those points, they would become the deadliest of enemies without a moment's hesitation. There would be no friendship, no sentiment. Only the ruthless pursuit of their own ends.
A serpent coiled at Orochimaru's feet, whispering a report. He glanced forward and gave a sharp nod to Kagenori, who stood watching.
Kagenori's voice cut through the tense air. "All units, move out!"
He led the Konoha shinobi into a controlled retreat, a river of clones and nervous soldiers flowing back through the forest.
The fifty-strong Cloud force advanced with practiced caution, their progress slowed by the need to check for traps. Just as one team finished carefully disarming a wire-triggered mechanism, a panicked shout erupted from their ranks.
"It's a double trap! Watch out—!"
The secondary trigger, hidden beneath the first, detonated. A chain reaction of explosions tore through the area, followed by a storm of shuriken propelled by the blasts. Quick-reacting Cloud ninja dodged or deflected the projectiles, but several of their slower comrades fell, injured or killed. The tactic only bought a little time, but it forced the Cloud to move even more slowly, meticulously checking for layered deceptions with every step.
This suited Kagenori's plan perfectly. He received constant updates from the serpent coiled around his arm, a psychic link to Orochimaru's observations in the rear. He dictated the pace, a metronome of controlled withdrawal.
"Hold position! All units, set traps here—real if you have the tags, decoys if you don't! Move!"
They worked quickly, sowing the ground behind them with hidden dangers before moving on once more.
Soon, the distance began to close. The Cloud vanguard broke through the tree line, and the rearguard action began in earnest.
Jiraiya, perched on a high branch, took a deep breath, his chest expanding. "Katon: Endan!" (Fire Release: Flame Bullet). He spat a massive glob of oil, igniting it with a spark of chakra. The resulting fireball wasn't just fire; it was a clinging, persistent inferno that used the forest itself as fuel, creating a roaring wall of flame that forced the Cloud advance to a grinding halt.
The Cloud commander, seeing the two Sannin holding the line, immediately grasped the situation. The real commander was elsewhere. "Squads Alpha and Beta, seven men each! Flank them, get ahead of the main column, and slow them down! And signal for support from our nearest outpost!"
Fourteen Cloud ninja broke away, flowing through the trees on either side, bypassing the fiery barrier and the legendary shinobi guarding it.
Kagenori remained focused ahead, his mind a map of their route and their vulnerabilities.
"Kagenori!" Minato's voice was urgent as he flickered to his side. "We've spotted movement on the right flank!"
"Confirmed numbers?" Kagenori asked, his voice flat.
"Negative. Our only sensor can't get a clear count."
"Return to your position," Kagenori ordered, his eyes never leaving the path ahead.
Minato hesitated, believing a preemptive strike was their best option. "But if we wait for them to—"
"Return to your position," Kagenori repeated, the finality in his tone brooking no argument. "We have one sensor. We act on guesswork, we walk into a trap. Now, go."
Minato clenched his jaw but obeyed, melting back into the formation.
Alone for a moment, Kagenori closed his eyes. The lack of sensory capability was a critical weakness. He reached inward, to the silent, ever-present system in his mind.
The Witness System Interface.
Witness Points: 1,360.
He focused his will, and the Exchange Store materialized in his consciousness, a vast, scrolling list of abilities, techniques, and knowledge. He filtered his search, his mental command clear: Sensory Techniques.
He had no time for lengthy training. He needed something he could use now. The success of the retreat, and the survival of these thirty-two shinobi, might just depend on it.