Inside the Mizukage's office, the Fourth Mizukage, Yagura, sat behind his desk. His youthful, almost cherubic face betrayed no hint of the malice that lurked beneath. A flicker of crimson light danced momentarily in his eyes—a fleeting glimpse of the Sharingan—before vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
He scanned the report in his hand with an expression of cold amusement.
"The Third Hokage of Konoha intends to bolster his troops as a show of strength," Yagura murmured, his voice laced with a sinister undertone. "An attempt to intimidate the Mist, whether to secure more spoils of war or to negotiate favorable terms."
Hiruzen Sarutobi's strategy was transparent: a display of military power meant to exploit the Mist's precarious position. The Hidden Mist Village was far from matching Konoha's resources or manpower. For the Mist to maintain its standing among the Five Great Nations, it needed to tread carefully.
A sharp laugh, low and menacing, echoed in the office. Yagura's grip tightened, and the intelligence scroll disintegrated into dust in his hand. His smile twisted into something cruel.
"They all underestimate me," he muttered. "The Mist Village's interests? What do they matter to me?"
He straightened in his seat, his voice cutting through the room. "Summon my operatives."
A blur of motion followed, and three Mist Anbu appeared before him, kneeling in unison. Their silence reflected both reverence and fear.
"Konoha's reinforcements number 500 elites. Dispatch 300 of our finest to intercept them," Yagura commanded. "At the same time, covertly reach out to the other villages. The Tsuchikage, Raikage, and Kazekage will not want to see Konoha's ambitions succeed. Propose an alliance to crush the reinforcements together."
The Anbu exchanged brief glances before responding in unison. "Yes, Mizukage-sama."
Konoha's troop movements were anything but subtle. Hiruzen's intent was clear: a calculated march toward the border of the Land of Water to give the appearance of reinforcing the Land of Whirlpools. But his plan had already been leaked to the other great villages.
The Hidden Mist, Rock, Sand, and Cloud ninja forces converged near the border, each village sending their elite operatives. Their combined force of 600 outnumbered Konoha's reinforcements, but the alliance was fragile. Distrust lingered among the four factions.
A Rock ninja muttered, his voice tinged with irritation, "Five days in this cursed forest, and the Leaf's reinforcements are still dragging their feet. They're making us sweat under this blazing sun for nothing."
Another ninja from the Sand chimed in, his tone biting, "At least we've had time to rest. The Leaf's sluggish march gives us the advantage of preparation."
Within the coalition, tensions simmered. The Mist ninjas, isolated by their village's infamous policies, bore the brunt of the other nations' disdain. Meanwhile, the leaders of the Rock, Sand, and Cloud units gathered to finalize their strategy.
"Direct confrontation would be unwise," said Maki, the Sand's representative, her voice calm and measured. "The Byakugan of the Leaf's Hyuga clan will spot us before we can strike. We should divide their forces and attack in smaller units."
A Cloud ninja smirked, drawing a headband marked with the insignia of the Rain Village. "Agreed. But we'll disguise ourselves. No one will know it was us."
The others followed suit, donning headbands of smaller nations to obscure their identities. It was a familiar tactic—the great nations framing lesser villages to sow discord.
The Mist leader watched the proceedings with thinly veiled contempt. "Typical," he muttered under his breath. But he had no choice but to comply, issuing orders for his troops to prepare for a surprise attack.
The Leaf's reinforcements moved at a deliberate pace, their commander's orders keeping them cautious. However, the prolonged delays eroded the morale of the troops. Frustration simmered among the ranks.
"Commander Sarutobi, shouldn't we be moving faster?" a young ninja asked, his voice edged with impatience.
Sarutobi's gaze hardened. "This is a direct order from the Third Hokage. Our pace is strategic."
But the truth was evident to many: the delays served political ends rather than tactical ones. The reinforcements' slow progress undermined the efforts of the frontline ninjas, particularly those led by Uchiha Yoru, who had gained significant acclaim for his recent victories.
At the frontline camp in the Land of Whirlpools, Uchiha Shisui paced in agitation.
"Brother Yoru, the reinforcements are crawling," Shisui vented, his frustration palpable. "They're treating this as a game while we bleed on the battlefield."
Uchiha Yoru's calm demeanor remained unshaken. "Shisui, control your emotions. Anger clouds judgment and fuels the Sharingan's curse."
"But they're jeopardizing the entire front!" Shisui's fists clenched, his voice rising.
Yoru met his gaze, his tone firm. "We're here to endure, to preserve the village. Change comes with time and unity. Impulsiveness will only lead to destruction. Learn from the past—from White Fang, from Orochimaru."
Shisui's shoulders sagged, his anger giving way to a somber resignation. "You're right, Brother Yoru. I'll go see to the others."
As Shisui exited the tent, Yoru's expression darkened. The cracks in Konoha's foundation were widening, and he knew the coming battles would test more than just their strength—they would test their resolve.
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