Chương 52: Departure

The morning of the sixth day. Before the official assembly, Dongye Zhen made a final pilgrimage to his usual ninja tool shop. While standard-issue equipment like shuriken and kunai would be provided by the village once they reached the front, Zhen's short sword was a different matter entirely. It was a high-value chakra weapon, not a disposable tool. It required meticulous care—and the specialized honing oil it needed was not something the village supplied for free. The shop was quiet.

Suzune was busy attending to a handful of customers. Her husband, Tetsuen, was a smith of formidable skill, but during the war, he was often little more than a ghost, buried in his forge for days on end. Neither of them possessed the talent to be shinobi; Zhen often wondered what would lead their daughter, Tenten, to choose the path of the blade in the future. Perhaps it was simply the ethos of Konoha—the unspoken rule that every child's horizon eventually culminated in a headband.

Tenten had been born in early March, making her the eldest of the future "Rookie Twelve." Currently, her peers were either still in the womb or not yet conceived. At three months old, the infant was already a bundle of restless energy, crawling about her playpen and testing the limits of the railing. Zhen leaned over to pinch her cheek. The little one, far from being shy, lunged for his finger and tried to shove it into her mouth.

"Iya, iya!" she protested when she found she couldn't quite manage a bite.

"It seems she's taken a shine to you, Zhen," Suzune said, coming over after finishing with her customers.

"I'd like to think I'm not particularly intimidating, Suzune-san. Or maybe she's just used to strangers coming through the shop."

"Perhaps. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Blade maintenance kits. Give me four." Suzune blinked.

"Four? That's quite a stockpile." She paused, the realization dawning on her.

"I see. Let me get them from the back." The oil used for chakra-conductive steel was a niche item, kept in the secure storage room behind the counter. When she returned, she handed the kits over but waved away his money.

"Are you heading to the front, Zhen?"

"I am."

"Then consider these a gift from your big sister. Promise me you'll take care of yourself. Don't go trying to be a hero out there." Zhen offered a warm, reassured smile.

"I promise, Suzune-san. I still want to see which of you Tenten takes after once she grows up."

"Me, obviously. If she ends up like her father, we're in trouble!" On the main thoroughfare of Konoha, the relief force was beginning to coalesce. The streets were lined with villagers—mothers, fathers, and siblings seeing off their kin. Some shared whispered farewells; others stood alone, ghosts in the crowd. In a world of perpetual conflict, not everyone had a family to return to. In the wars of shinobi, death was often a swift, absolute event that left no room for the luxury of a wound.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Zhen regrouped with Team 3 and scanned the ranks of the departing force. Adult shinobi were the minority; the vanguard was comprised mostly of fresh meat—graduates from the last few years. Some were Zhen's age, barely ten; the oldest were perhaps twelve or thirteen. Konoha had little choice. It wasn't that they lacked adult veterans, but the village core had to be held.

Shinobi were not a traditional army; their high mobility and stealth made them perfect for decapitation strikes. Leaving the "King" unprotected was a gamble the elders wouldn't take. Zhen recognized several faces in the throng. Might Guy was there with his teammates, alongside Genma Shiranui—who already had his trademark senbon clamped between his teeth—and the sunglass-wearing Ebisu.

Following Might Dai's legendary sacrifice the previous year, Guy had been placed under the Hokage's personal observation and granted a period of rest in the village. Now, the wheel had turned, and he was being spat back into the fire. Another youth caught Zhen's eye, also sporting shades. His companions called him Aoba—Aoba Yamashiro. Beside him was a girl with striking features: cascading tresses of natural curls and deep crimson irises.

It was Kurenai Yuhi, though her eyes were currently devoid of the tomoe that would signify a Sharingan—a different kind of red altogether. And wherever Kurenai was, the boy with the prematurely aged face and the lovestruck expression was sure to follow: Asuma Sarutobi. When the Third Hokage sent his own son to the front, there was little room for anyone else to complain. Zhen also spotted Hayate's classmates, Izumo Kamizuki and Kotetsu Hagane, though he didn't recognize their third teammate.

For a long time, Zhen's social circle had been microscopic, limited by his preference for study and solitude. Seeing all these future pillars of Konoha gathered in one place was a visceral reminder of the era he lived in. Iruka Umino was nowhere to be seen, nor was Tsubaki. They lacked the prodigal talent required for early graduation.

Iruka's parents, however, were present; they were formidable Jōnin who had risen through the ranks as civilian-born shinobi, though their son had seemingly inherited only their talent for theory, not their combat prowess. Yugao was pulled aside by her mother for a final, frantic set of instructions. Dongye Hui stood by Zhen, her hand resting on his head in a silent blessing. When Yugao returned, her mother, Sakura Uzuki, turned to Yunmi Gekko.

"Yunmi-dono, I entrust the children to you."

"Rest easy. I will see them through. You have my word." Dongye Hui, who now had a clearer understanding of her son's true capabilities, gave one final command: "Zhen. Protect your teammates."

"I will, Mother." The signal was given. Farewells were severed. The march began. As they cleared the Great Gates of Konoha, the rigid formation dissolved. The companies vanished into the surrounding forests—the quintessential shinobi march. They rarely utilized the main roads and never traveled in a single, dense mass. Instead, they moved in small clusters of familiar squads, maintaining a distance that looked loose but remained tactically tight.

This prevented a single large-scale jutsu from wiping out the entire reinforcement effort. Advancing alongside Team 3 was a group of familiar faces: Zhen's former classmates who had graduated early the previous year—Tokuma Hyuga and Muta Aburame. Their third was a girl from the Inuzuka clan named Meiko, who was accompanied by a medium-sized... Husky? Zhen's expression flickered. He felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread.

"What's with that look? You got a problem with me?" The "Husky" barked, its senses sharp enough to catch Zhen's lingering gaze.

"I swear, I don't!" Zhen lied.

"Good. Keep it that way, or I'll take a chunk out of you." Good grief, Zhen thought. The dog talks. He knew the ninja world was full of wonders, but a talking Siberian Husky was pushing it. The dog's eyes had that unmistakable, terrifying spark of "intelligence." Their commanding Jōnin was a member of the Sarutobi clan named Hizuki. He let out a hearty laugh.

"Don't mind him, kid. Rocky is as reliable as they come." Rocky? A Husky named Rocky? Zhen stared. Do you have fists the size of dinner plates? Yunmi Gekko smiled.

"Zhen, the Inuzuka hounds are some of the most dependable partners a Konoha shinobi can have."

"I'm aware, Sensei." Zhen believed him, but seeing a professional "home-demolition specialist" in a combat zone was a shock. Though, looking at the composition of Tokuma's squad—a tracker, a bug-user, and a Byakugan—it was clear they were the prototypical recon team. The template for the future Team 8 was already being cast.