My shout echoed over the campsite.
The wind tugged at the ragged strips of my coat, whipping them against my face.
The moment I lifted the main tent's red flap, the sour stench of sweat and filthy feet hit me square in the face.
Inside, everyone was shouting over everyone else, spit flying through the air.
Two guards were fighting, their faces red, each having knocked the other's helmet askew.
"Sen! Get your ass in here! Come take a look at this!"
Auntie Tsunade sat at the head of the tent, pounding the ironwood table hard enough to shake loose black dust.
Mud covered both her wide sleeves, and her brow was twisted into a tight knot.
I swaggered inside and casually scraped my boot soles against the dried grass on the ground.
"Auntie, with a voice that loud this early in the morning, it's a crime the Land of Lightning's loudspeaker factory hasn't hired you."
I curled my lip and impatiently found a wooden stump to sit on.
"Sen, quit messing around. Look at these two. Which one's real?"
Jiraiya leaned on a crutch, his aged face dark and his lips trembling.
Faint green vitality still seeped from the wound on his back.
I tilted my head to look at the two Konoha Guards wrestling on the ground and sneered.
"What's there to look at? They're both fakes. Living decoys Nagato sent you."
At those words, the tent fell so silent you could have heard a pin drop.
"They're both fakes? How is that possible?"
Kakashi's dead-fish eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, his white hair bobbing.
"Sen, are you sure? Their chakra flows are exactly the same as before."
"It's broad daylight, old man. Is that Sharingan of yours just for decoration?"
I spat out the dry