This time, the reinforcements weren't just from the Uchiha clan—other prominent Konoha clans had joined as well.
After a momentary pause, the Uchiha forces took up position in an open area near the village gate, while Uchiha Rin stepped forward. Among those gathered was someone Saitama recognized, though they'd only met once before.
"Lord Orochimaru, the Uchiha reinforcements have assembled," Uchiha Rin reported formally as he approached Orochimaru.
Orochimaru was the overall commander of this reinforcement unit; Rin, meanwhile, led only the Uchiha forces.
Glancing toward the Uchiha encampment, Orochimaru licked his lips and spoke in his distinct, hoarse tone.
"Very well. We'll move out once the Hyūga arrive."
"Yes." Despite being a clan leader, Uchiha Rin still showed deference to Orochimaru—after all, the Uchiha respected strength above all else, and the Sannin were unparalleled in that regard.
Saitama studied Orochimaru with intense curiosity. That gaze might've been too aggressive, but he couldn't help it. At this point in time, Orochimaru was still in his prime—and terrifying.
The troops departed that afternoon. Nearly a thousand ninja made up the force, with around 500 hailing from Konoha's various clans and families. The Uchiha, surprisingly, sent one of the smallest contingents—just over twenty members. The Hyūga alone contributed a fifty-man unit.
But Saitama wasn't concerned about the numbers. The Uchiha didn't show their worth through quantity—they demonstrated it on the battlefield.
After three days of hard travel, the Konoha reinforcements reached the frontlines.
The situation was tense. Konoha and Sunagakure had been fighting back and forth, with neither side able to maintain a clear advantage. Although Konoha appeared stronger on paper, it couldn't afford to concentrate all its forces here. After all, the village was engaged on multiple fronts—as one of the Great Nations, enemies lurked in every direction.
Commanding this battlefield were Orochimaru and Nara Shikaku—still young, but already known for his sharp mind and tactical brilliance.
Upon arrival, the reinforcements were given accommodations. Uchiha Rin soon received a summons to the command tent, and Saitama watched as he left—Orochimaru was convening a strategy meeting to assign the next wave of combat operations.
The meeting lasted until midnight. Meanwhile, Saitama lay awake in his tent, unable to sleep.
Part of it was the oppressive atmosphere—this was a real battlefield, and the weight of death lingered in the air. But another part of it was instinct—he didn't feel safe enough to truly relax.
By midnight, the camp was quiet. Only the occasional patrol disturbed the stillness, ensuring security around the perimeter.
Despite Rin's earlier warning not to wander at night, Saitama slipped out of the tent, deciding to stretch his legs and observe the defenses.
The sky was a sea of ink, scattered with sparse stars. The stillness of the night added to the tension that weighed down the camp.
His tent was located close to Uchiha Rin's, but there was no sign of activity—Rin was likely asleep or meditating. Not wanting to disturb him, Saitama turned and walked in the other direction.
Patrols passed by frequently, and Saitama could sense chakra signatures in each group—every guard was a capable ninja.
He wasn't sure where he was headed. He just wandered aimlessly, familiarizing himself with the terrain and making mental notes of Konoha's layout.
Then, in the dim moonlight, he spotted a figure ahead—someone he recognized. They were near the command tent.
It was Orochimaru.
Saitama didn't dare speak. His own standing was far beneath Orochimaru's, and it would be inappropriate to approach casually.
The figure's hair fluttered gently in the night breeze, and Orochimaru stood with his back turned—arrogant, commanding.
Saitama swallowed hard. There was something magnetic about Orochimaru tonight—he radiated strength and cold allure.
Just as Saitama began to retreat quietly, Orochimaru turned.
Golden, snake-like eyes locked onto him. A thin, unsettling smile crept across Orochimaru's face.
"I can feel your anxiety," he said softly, stepping closer.
A chill swept through Saitama's body. A single drop of sweat formed on his forehead. Even after months of training, Orochimaru's presence made his breath hitch and his body tense.
Then, as if lifting a pressure seal, Orochimaru withdrew his killing intent.
"To be sent to the battlefield at your age… has the Uchiha clan grown so desperate?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. His tongue flicked out briefly as he spoke.
"Lord Orochimaru, you jest. As a shinobi of Konoha, it is my duty to protect the village. I volunteered to fight," Saitama replied firmly.
Orochimaru raised an eyebrow, mildly intrigued.
"When did the Uchiha begin producing shinobi with your level of awareness?" he mused aloud. "You graduated less than six months ago and already sought the frontlines? That shows confidence... or recklessness."
Saitama lowered his head slightly. He hadn't expected Orochimaru to know his background.
"War is where shinobi are forged. Isn't that right, Lord Orochimaru?" he said, meeting Orochimaru's eyes with unflinching resolve.
Orochimaru stared at him for a moment, then turned without another word.
"Get some rest. Your squad's assignment won't be easy," he said over his shoulder as he walked away.
Orochimaru's interest had been piqued. This young Uchiha had a decent chakra reserve—comparable to a chūnin—and there was a hunger for power in his eyes. If he survived the war, Orochimaru might take a closer look at him.
Unlike conventional warfare, shinobi logistics didn't rely on massive storage or supply chains. Instead, materials were delivered in cycles, guarded by specialized units to avoid sabotage by enemy ninja.
On his second day at the front, Saitama learned his mission.
Due to the nature of the war, there were multiple transport routes for supplies—and each had to be protected. Saitama's squad was tasked with guarding one of them.
The location of these routes was classified. Even among allied forces, secrecy was critical. A single infiltrator could disrupt everything.
Saitama's team consisted of four members:
Kawaki, a Konoha jonin in his early thirties who specialized in Earth Release.
Sado Yanagi, a mid-tier Konoha chūnin from the Ryūshu style.
Hyūga Ki, a branch family member and a Byakugan-user, also a chūnin.
Saitama, a genin with the combat capacity of a chūnin.
Three similar squads were stationed along this critical supply route—Saitama's was just one of them.
Kawaki, as the captain, had extensive battlefield experience—he'd survived the Second Great Ninja War, and his leadership was unquestioned.
During the team briefing, Kawaki laid out the strategy.
"Our job is to intercept any enemy trying to sabotage the supply line. They'll be hiding in the shadows—and so will we."
As he assigned roles, Kawaki's gaze lingered on Saitama.
"I know some of you might be called 'prodigies,' but this is the battlefield. No individual can change its course—unless they're on the level of the Sannin. So put away your pride."
Saitama nodded silently. He looked around; no one objected. He understood—he wasn't here to show off. He had a job to do, and survival came first.
The team laid traps and arranged detection seals throughout the area. Their post was ten miles behind the main battlefield, right along the supply caravan's route.
"Captain, something's coming!" Hyūga Ki's voice rang out—the Byakugan had spotted movement.
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