Nawaki!

Chapter 7: Nawaki!

Konoha.

A steady drizzle fell, as if mourning the ninjas who had died on the battlefield.

The dark sky was punctuated by occasional flashes of lightning.

The Senju Clan.

"Damn it! How could this be a coincidence in all the world!"

Tsunade smashed the table with a furious punch, while Uzumaki Mito before her remained silent.

Neither had expected that this time, they would come so close to losing the bloodline of the First Hokage.

"Tsunade, what if it really is a coincidence?"

After a long pause, Uzumaki Mito spoke hoarsely, but even as she said it, the aged woman let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh.

She didn't believe it herself!

And Tsunade even less so, gritting her teeth and lowering her voice:

"A coincidence? Those rogue samurai had no issues—carrying some Exploding Tags for self-defense was perfectly reasonable, setting traps was normal too."

As she spoke, Tsunade lifted her head, a sarcastic smile on her face.

"How reasonable it all is. No flaws to find at all. Yet it's precisely this simple mission, still within the Land of Fire, that Orochimaru would underestimate. A ninja with chunin-level strength, careless, stumbles into a trap."

"Then gets blown to bits by Exploding Tags! But Grandma, don't you think the number of those tags is a bit excessive? Even if the investigation says all sources are legitimate!"

The more flawless and clue-free it was, the more suspicious it became.

If they hadn't known in advance, they might have investigated for a long time, double-checked repeatedly, and it would have remained an eternal mystery.

But they had received intelligence beforehand!

And it matched so perfectly!

Especially this mission—it couldn't even be called within the Land of Fire anymore; it was practically at Konoha's doorstep.

Nawaki had his birthday the day before, went on a mission the next day, and that evening in the village, Jiraiya could come notify him to identify the body—tell me that's not right at the doorstep!

"As for the Uchiha!"

At this point, Tsunade let out a cold, mocking laugh.

"The Uchiha are isolated and ostracized now, constantly trying to integrate into Konoha. Not to mention whether they have a motive to strike at us, does the Konoha Military Police Force even have the strength for it?"

The Uchiha were indeed strong!

They could be called the top clan, not just in Konoha but across the ninja world.

But in Konoha, most of the Uchiha Clan's elite had been deployed to the front lines. Those left behind were never trusted by the village, which maintained constant vigilance and surveillance in secret.

If the Uchiha pulled something like this, the risk was too great. They couldn't possibly make it so seamless.

"Tsunade!"

Uzumaki Mito finally let out a weary sigh, a trace of sorrow on her aged face.

"Nawaki is my own grandson. It's good that he's gone now—take this chance to send him to the Daimyo's Mansion. There's still Senju power there to protect him as he grows in the shadows."

"Tsunade, Konoha today may not be the Konoha of old, but war is imminent. Don't act rashly!"

At that moment, Tsunade was undoubtedly the most furious, but the instant she lifted her head, her face had already calmed.

That calm left Uzumaki Mito speechless.

"Grandma, don't worry."

Tsunade was someone who would one day become the Fifth Hokage. Impulsiveness was her nature, but that didn't mean she lacked a brain.

On major matters, she not only had her own opinions but also political acumen—she was no mere simple ninja. Otherwise, she wouldn't have risen to the position of Fifth Hokage.

Seeing Tsunade quickly regain her composure, Uzumaki Mito smiled with relief.

"Tsunade, Grandma doesn't have long to live. From now on, the clan and Kushina will depend on you."

Just then, both of their expressions shifted. Clearly, they sensed someone approaching from outside.

"Tsunade!"

At the familiar voice of Jiraiya, the moment the door opened, Tsunade put on a facade of normal irritation and said:

"Jiraiya, if you don't have a good reason, you'd better have an explanation for me!"

But in that instant, Jiraiya's expression was heavy, and Tsunade's anger gradually faded, replaced by a sense of foreboding.

She forced a stiff smile onto her face.

"Jiraiya! Don't tell me the front lines have suddenly gotten tense!"

Yet Jiraiya's throat seemed blocked. After a long pause, he lowered his voice and said:

"Tsunade, Orochimaru is back. He's in the morgue."

Boom!

A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating Tsunade's hollow, disbelieving expression—as if she had already guessed what was coming.

The next moment!

Boom!

Water splashed everywhere as Tsunade burst forward at her top speed, racing toward her destination.

Seeing this, Jiraiya quickly followed after her.

It had to be said—women were born actors, let alone shinobi. Tsunade had shown not a single crack from start to finish.

Beneath a dark, overcast sky, rain poured down in sheets.

In front of the morgue, the sound of skidding footsteps rang out, accompanied by heavy, ragged breaths.

Tsunade stared at the place in disbelief. Leaning against the door outside was Orochimaru.

That panting wasn't from exhaustion—it was from tension!

Just as Tsunade trembled and prepared to step forward, Jiraiya arrived, his face filled with grief.

"It's better if you don't see the body."

For Jiraiya to say something like that, it was easy to imagine how gruesome the corpse must be.

Leaning against the door, a strand of black hair veiling his eyes, Orochimaru spoke in an eerily calm, low voice:

"What's the big deal? Even if you look, you won't recognize it as your own brother."

"Shut up, Orochimaru!" Jiraiya snapped, angrily scolding his comrade.

But Orochimaru only let out a cold laugh, hiding the sorrow deep in his eyes.

"Dead bodies are always like this after being dressed up. That's just how it is when there's no doctor on the battlefield. Still, for a kid, it's a bit too cruel."

"Especially the day after he just received a gift!"

Orochimaru said it in a lighthearted tone, as if the matter had nothing to do with him, and pulled a pendant from his robes.

In an instant, as that familiar necklace appeared, Tsunade's pupils dilated, her gaze turning vacant and empty.

Beside her, Jiraiya couldn't bear to watch and turned his head away.

This was war.

After a long moment, her trembling hand took the necklace. Two streams of tears now flowed down Tsunade's face.

"Nawaki!"

A heart-wrenching wail echoed through the rainy night. The Konoha Shinobi outside heard it, their expressions darkening with sorrow.

Shinobi—a profession that had always walked hand in hand with death.

Especially during wartime, such anguished cries were almost a daily occurrence.

Within the Land of Fire.

A fine drizzle fell, and the air was thick with the scent of earth.

"August 10th. Yesterday was Nawaki's twelfth birthday. So today, Tsunade should know by now."

Even if Nawaki's death had been a coincidence, knowing about it in advance meant it was no coincidence at all.

That was human nature.

Perched on a tree trunk, Uchiha Yoru suppressed his aura and looked up at the night sky.

"Yoru!"

Suddenly, a dark figure flashed and appeared behind him, drawing Yoru's attention.

In the rainy night, Uchiha Mikoto carried a standard-issue clan longsword on her back, her Two Tomoe Sharingan eyes fixed on a cave in the distance.

"Following the scent trail from the ninja cats, that bastard's inside!"

The usually gentle Uchiha Mikoto was now cold and sharp, her gaze at the cave brimming with killing intent.

Pat!

The next moment, Yoru's hand landed on her shoulder, instantly dispelling her murderous aura.

"Sister Mikoto."

A soft call brought Mikoto back to her senses, and she stared solemnly at the distant cave.

Inside the dark cave.

"Man? Woman?"

In the damp, pitch-black cave, a gaunt old man slowly lifted his head, as if sensing something. His flat voice carried an eerie undertone.

"Decided. If a woman comes charging in this time, I'll kill her."

His eyes, calm at first, gradually filled with madness as he stared unblinkingly at the cave entrance.