The rain on the fort's outer walls was a steady pour. The moon illuminated the camp that had fallen into an eerie silence. The light of patrolling genins on the watchtowers complemented the landscape.
Commander Batto moved through the dim corridors with the deliberate stride of a man carrying the weight of a border on his shoulders.
The parley was a success, but success in the Land of Rain was ephemere.
He felt no joy, only relief that the complex situation with the dam was finally calming down.
*CRACK*
He pushed open the heavy canvas flap of his command tent. The familiar scene of wet canvas, old maps, and cheap lamp oil welcomed him. He was about to call for a status report from the watch officer when he froze.
He stayed late this evening. The situation had calmed down, but it had also changed the dynamics of the Lands of river borders. The dam was under their jurisdiction. And more importantly, Tanigakure would aim at retaliating.
Not openly.
They did not have the strength, or the courage to do so.
The first Tanikage was also known for his lack of aggressiveness, only defending his lands' interest when the Daimyo explicitely asked him to do so. A stance that had not changed, not even during the first shinobi war.
After a few hours, he went out again. The night had fallen so deep that the stars seemed to brighten. But then...
Voices. Low, urgent.
And it was not just any voice.
Zenitsu's voice. "...assurances are worthless. The plan failed. The evidence is in Amegakure's hands. My sister lives...How could a jonin of the Emi clan fail so miserably? Has Tanigakure fallen so low that even a greenhorn chunin can defeat your elites?"
A second voice, muffled but familiar in its cadence.
The Dotuki. "The failure was not just operational, but informational. Your data on the team's capabilities was not accurate. Even your sister's strength could have defeated regular elite chunins, a variable which you failed to account for. The upper commands are not happy with the development of the border. You know what that means"
A cold, slick feeling, like ice water trickling down his spine, flooded Batto's veins. He didn't breathe. His massive frame, usually so imposing, became a statue in the shadows just outside a tent flap.
"I gave you their files! Their academy scores, their clan arts, their predicted roles!", Zenitsu hissed, anger bleeding through, "You said a jonin and three chunins would be overkill. You were supposed to eliminate them, discredit the Dark Hall's new pets, and leave the border in chaos that I could 'resolve,' putting me in command here. Instead, you made them heroes. And you took Ameruyi alive! Why? You had the opportunity to kill her!"
"A Takeda heir is a valuable counter-piece. We anticipated your… displeasure. Hence this meeting. Our mutual problem remains: Team 11. They are an unwanted thorn in the upper command's eyes. Their growth is unbelievably fast, and they want them gone"
"So finish it," Zenitsu's voice was a venomous whisper. "You're inside the fort. Batto trusts his perimeter too much. Make it look like a Tanigakure revenge strike. Kill the boy and the Waraiko freak in their medical bay. I'll handle Batto during the confusion."
"The girl?"
"Leave Ameruyi to me. A tragic casualty of the same attack, her body never recovered. A martyr for the Takeda, a reason to demand Hanzo purge the border command for incompetence. Clean."
The ice in Batto's veins ignited into white-hot fury. Betrayal. Not just of the village, but of the very shinobi under his command. Of his own blood. He thought of Ryugo's cold, strategic eyes, Tetsu's hidden horror, Ameruyi's burned face—all pawns in this bastard's game for power.
He didn't shout. He didn't announce himself. There was no time for drama.
With a silent, explosive surge of chakra, Batto moved.
He didn't go for the screen. He went for the tent's central support pole—a thick timber driven into the ground. One hand, calloused and powerful, wrapped around it. His other hand formed a single, crushing seal.
"Doton: Earth-Style Quake!" (B-Rank)
He had heard enough.
It wasn't a wide-area technique. He focused the chakra down through the pole into the earth beneath the tent. The ground didn't just shake; it cracked open.
CRUNCH-THUD!
The privacy screen and the cot behind it were thrown sideways. Zenitsu Takeda and the Dotuki operative—Fang, his wolf mask unmistakable—stumbled into view, off-balance.
Batto's eyes met Zenitsu's. In his vice-commander's face, he saw surprise, shock...Perhaps even shame?
But there was no denial. No excuses. Only the killing intent of a cornered predator.
"TRAITOR! You gave up loyalty and honour for what...a mere title?" Batto's roar was the alarm. It tore through the night, drowning the rain.
He didn't need a bell or a flare. His voice was a thunderclap of accusation that woke the entire fort.
His greatsword was in his hands in the same motion, drawn from the seal on his back in a flash of steel. He didn't charge Zenitsu. He went for the greater immediate threat—the enemy infiltrator.
The blade, longer than a man was tall, swept horizontally in a decapitating arc meant to bisect Fang.
The Dotuki was fast.
He dropped flat, the blade whistling over his head, and kicked out at Batto's leading knee while his hands flew into seals.
"Doton: Earth-Style Wall!" (C-Rank)
A slab of rock erupted from the tent floor between them, not to block Batto, but to give Fang space. He was buying milliseconds to escape.
He never got them.
From the tent entrance, two figures blurred in.
"Haribako Hidden Art: Senbon Binding Net!" (C-Rank)
A fan of senbon, each trailing near-invisible chakra wire, shot from Goto Haribako's umbrella, not at Fang's body, but at the space around him. The wires crisscrossed, a razor-grid waiting to entangle.
"Hakkō Art: Stinging Spore Cloud!" (C-Rank)
Yumi Hakkō blew a puff of red spores from her gourd. They expanded into a irritant cloud that filled the tent's confined space, burning eyes and lungs. It wouldn't stop a chunin, but it would slow him, force him to react.
They had been nearby, debriefing with Mumei after the parley. Batto's roar was their summons.
Fang snarled, abandoning his seals. He rolled, the senbon wires slicing through his cloak but missing flesh. He came up near the torn canvas wall.
Zenitsu made his choice. His own katana flashed, its blade a dull grey. He didn't attack Batto. He lunged at Goto and Yumi—the weaker, faster threats to his ally's escape.
"Silent Rain Kenjutsu: Fifth Form – Downpour!" (B-Rank)
It was a punishing, area-covering barrage of strikes, meant to drive them back and create an opening.
Batto moved to intercept, but Fang saw his chance. With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, he threw three small clay pellets at the tent's lamp.
"Katon: Ignition!" (D-Rank)
The pellets burst into concentrated flames just as they struck the oil reservoir.
WHOOSH!
The tent's interior became a sudden inferno of spreading fire and choking black smoke
In the blinding, burning confusion, Fang melted through the slit in the canvas wall and vanished into the stormy night.
Zenitsu, seizing the same distraction, parried a crushing blow from Batto's greatsword that sent shivers up his arm, and used the force to propel himself backwards out of the opposite side of the burning tent, disappearing into the maze of fort structures.
"THE FORT IS UNDER ATTACK! TRAITOR IN THE RANKS! ALL UNITS, DEFENSIVE POSITIONS! SEAL THE GATE!" Batto bellowed, his voice cutting through the crackle of flames and the now-clanging alarm bells.
Goto and Yumi, coughing from smoke and spores, exchanged a single glance. Their orders were implicit.
"The Dotuki," Goto spat, already moving towards the breach Fang had used.
A shadow flashed by them.
"Goto, Yumi. With me, right this instant. We give chase"
It was Ryugo's voice. His eyes radiated a rare killing intent.