Morning light pierced the thin mist, and wisps of cooking smoke awakened the sleeping military camp.
The camp, like a dormant beast, suddenly came alive.
The kunai marks on the watchtowers still glistened with night dew. The night-watch ninjas had already sounded their bamboo flutes, three short notes and one long cutting through the silence.
The flaps of tents were lifted one after another as ninjas filed out, silent and swift as a scattering flock of crows.
The logistics team had long since set up iron pots. Miso and dried vegetables bobbed in the boiling water, releasing a savory scent.
The ninjas collected rice balls according to their units, squatted at the edge of the training grounds to chew, and did everything in orderly haste.
A faint gleam occasionally flashed between their fingers—the morning light reflecting off the ninja tools they were cleaning.
Years of war had numbed the ninjas. They merely carried out orders mechanically, then cast aside their fear on the battlefield and charged forward with their units.
The statistics team moved between the tents, ink still wet on their scrolls:
"Two members missing from Tiger Unit. Confirmed dead."
"Rooster Unit has lost seventy percent of its ninja tools. Requesting resupply."
On grass still stained with fresh blood, the medical team stitched the tendons of those wounded while repelling last night's raid. The rustle of rolling bandage rolls mingled with muffled groans.
Smoke still rose from the scorched earth in the northwest corner. The small-scale enemy raid last night had merely been an appetizer.
After eating the food he had brought with him, Neji put on Konoha's standard ninja flak jacket and trousers suited for movement.
A ninja tool pouch was tied at his waist. He had no real need for it, given his spatial storage, but