On the Land of Wind front, inside Konoha's temporary command tent.
The heavy canvas flap shut out the desert wind and sand that howled ceaselessly outside.
Candlelight flickered inside the tent, its dim yellow glow waxing and waning, making the densely packed battle-line markers on the sand table, the damaged terrain maps, and the stacks of military reports seem all the more oppressive and heavy.
In the main seat, Shikaku Nara, whom Orochimaru and Jiraiya had fought to secure, sat upright at the desk, his fingertips resting lightly against his brow, an unrelenting gravity in his eyes.
The succession of defeats on the battlefield had left the frontline commander exhausted in both body and mind.
Just then, the tent flap was gently lifted, and a messenger shinobi whose armor was stained all over with dried blood bowed as he entered.
"Report! Lord Shikaku, Sunagakure's forces have pulled back their lines across the board and halted their offensive."
At those words, the atmosphere inside the tent, strained to its limit, eased slightly.
"What are our casualties?"
Shikaku Nara raised a hand to rub his throbbing temples and asked in a low voice.
The messenger lowered his head slightly, his tone suddenly growing subdued.
"Lord Shikaku, twenty-seven dead, fifty-six severely wounded, and the lightly wounded... too many to count. Most have been poisoned."
The brief casualty report landed like a heavy stone.
For a moment, the tent fell utterly silent.
"How is Lord Orochimaru?"
After a moment, Shikaku Nara asked again in a low voice.
"Lightly wounded."
"That's good. Lord Jiraiya, Minato, and the others have all relocated to our positions in the Land of Grass to deal with Iwagakure. On this battlefield, Lord Orochimaru is already our strongest fighter.
"If anything happens to him as well, the situation here will only