The wind and sand lashed against Saitama's face as he lay motionless, like a corpse buried in the desert. A scorpion had been crawling near his nose for a while before it finally scuttled off, uninterested. A thick layer of yellow sand had already covered his body, but Saitama's eyes remained fixed in one direction, unwavering.
The enemy ninja captured earlier—also named Saitama, ironically—had spilled everything he knew after his defeat. Now, this Saitama was guarding the very supply route the traitor had revealed.
The wind howled across the dunes. This area was deep in Sunagakure's territory, and danger lurked in every direction.
In the distance, several dark figures appeared, running swiftly across the sand. The storm of grit and wind didn't seem to slow them down.
Saitama narrowed his eyes, sharpening his focus on the figures, trying to gauge their strength from afar.
"Shh-shh," came the soft sound of feet against sand as the figures closed in. Saitama didn't move. He had blended so well into the terrain that he looked like part of the desert itself. There were nine figures in total. At least two of them radiated the chakra and bearing of jōnin, and Saitama knew his team likely couldn't take all of them head-on.
Looking across the dune opposite him, Saitama located Captain Moonlight Masano based on their prearranged positions.
He saw Masano subtly press a hand downward—a signal. Then he went still again.
Saitama stifled his breathing, suppressing his chakra to the minimum.
It had been two days since their infiltration began. So far, their only success was ambushing a four-man food transport squad guarded by chūnin.
Sunagakure placed high importance on supply logistics. In the past, they always sent a jōnin to escort the convoys. But after suffering repeated ambushes, they'd begun rotating in two jōnin irregularly to protect the shipments.
Since jōnin were scarce resources during the war, they couldn't be spared casually. Saitama's squad was waiting for a team with just one jōnin—a target they could manage.
The Sand team passed within meters of where Saitama and the others hid, heading toward the front lines, unaware of the three Konoha ninja hidden in the dunes.
"Huh?" Ten minutes after the first group passed, Saitama spotted four more figures on the horizon.
"A support squad?" he wondered. "Could they be bait? They're so far behind the first group."
He held back, still wary. It might be a trap. Even if these newcomers looked more vulnerable, caution was necessary.
Captain Masano stayed hidden as well, silently observing the developments.
Soon, the four Sand ninja came within 50 meters of Saitama.
"Captain, it's clear. We don't need to be so careful," said a short-haired ninja.
"Stay alert. The food convoys have been attacked multiple times recently. Signs point to Konoha," the squad leader responded.
"Alright. Looks like it's safe. Let's head back," he added, waving the others along.
They were a covert escort team, tasked with protecting the supply lines from the shadows.
Despite their proximity, none of them noticed Saitama lying just meters away.
Saitama analyzed their formation—one jōnin, three chūnin. A standard Sand team setup.
He glanced toward Masano's position but couldn't spot him, which tightened the knot in his chest.
"Earth Release: Headhunter Jutsu!"
A low voice broke the silence.
"Wha—?!" Before they could react, one of the Sand ninja was yanked into the sand. Blood seeped into the golden grains.
"Now!" Masano's voice echoed through the desert.
Saitama needed no further cue. Lightning crackled across his body as he activated Lightning Release Chakra Mode, boosting his speed to near-taijutsu specialist levels. He charged the enemy in a flash.
Elsewhere, Samu also burst from hiding, rushing toward a chūnin with agility surpassing the average.
Masano had already taken out one chūnin with his sneak attack. Now only two chūnin and one jōnin remained.
"Clang!" Masano's blade struck the Sand jōnin's kunai.
"Quick and clean!" he shouted, engaging the jōnin in close combat. Such battles could last long unless there was a clear power difference.
The Sand jōnin didn't seem worried. He locked blades with Masano without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Saitama's cells pulsed with lightning as he dashed at his target—a lean, sharp-eyed ninja.
A twisted grin curled Saitama's lips. He stepped into his charge, right hand sliding to his waist. Lightning danced on his blade as he drew it in one smooth, lethal arc.
"Clang!" The blow hit the sand as the Sand ninja dodged at the last second.
"Hmph, Konoha rats after all," the Sand shinobi sneered, stepping into a solid defensive stance. "You're no ordinary chūnin."
"That reflex... you're a jōnin, too," Saitama muttered, instantly on guard.
"You think we'd send only one jōnin to guard the supply line?!" the jōnin fighting Masano scoffed, even as he maintained relentless pressure.
"Sagaki, finish that brat off!" he barked toward the ninja facing Saitama.
Sagaki grinned darkly, his chakra flaring.
Saitama didn't flinch. His chakra surged in response—and in his eyes, the two-tomoe Sharingan spun to life.
"Uchiha, huh?" Sagaki narrowed his eyes, then burst forward with a violent gust of wind chakra.
"Clang!" Sagaki kicked Saitama's sword, but lightning sparked up the blade, forcing him to retreat instantly.
Saitama didn't follow. He watched closely instead, Sharingan locked on his opponent's every micro-movement.
Sagaki moved again—barely a twitch of the foot. That was enough.
"Now!" Saitama exploded forward, blade flickering like lightning.
"Whish! Whish!" His sword moved like a butterfly flitting among flowers—fluid, unpredictable, deadly.
Sagaki, despite his strength, found himself cornered. Under Saitama's Sharingan, every move was read in advance.
Elsewhere, Masano was holding his ground, trading strikes with the enemy jōnin, the battle at a stalemate.
"Is this kid really a genin?!" Sagaki thought in shock. He was being suppressed.
Saitama lashed out—a low kick slammed into Sagaki's chest, knocking him back. In a heartbeat, he thrust his blade toward the jōnin's throat, the arc of chakra singing along its edge.
"Clang!" Sagaki twisted his body, caught the blade with a rising kick, and deflected the strike. He flipped back, somersaulting to gain distance.
Saitama stepped forward to pursue—but paused.
"Whish! Whish!" Several black projectiles cut through the air. Sagaki had thrown shuriken and kunai, their trajectories sharp and practiced.
"Clang! Clang!" Saitama, with his Sharingan, predicted every angle and parried cleanly.
Two kunai thudded into the sand on either side of him. Sagaki smirked.
"Hiss... hiss..." Saitama's eyes widened. Wires—no, detonation tags—wrapped around the kunai.
"Damn!" He kicked off the ground just as—
BOOM!
The sand erupted.
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