At this moment, Uchiha Tatsumi, who was at the back of the team, suddenly felt a chill—like someone was watching him.
He carefully thought back and realized he hadn't offended anyone lately… except maybe Shukaku and Son Gokū. That made him a little uneasy.
Overhead, a ninja hawk circled, its sharp cries slicing through the sky.
"...The team will rest for an hour?" That was the message delivered by the hawk.
Since there was a break, Tatsumi didn't rush to check on the losses. He waved his hand and called Mikoto over to sit and rest.
When Mikoto reached him, she took out a handkerchief and began wiping the soot and blood from his face.
"Tatsumi, do you want to go see the medical team for your injuries?"
Sakumo glanced at Tatsumi and quickly picked up on the signs. His breathing was slightly irregular—subtle, but enough for a skilled shinobi to notice. That kind of change didn't happen unless there was internal damage.
Sakumo had taken a liking to this kid. Few could match his cooperative rhythm in battle. That kind of synergy wasn't something you found every day.
"Forget it. The medics are already overloaded. I'll go when it's less crowded," Tatsumi replied with a shrug.
"Then I'll leave him to you, Sakumo-sama." Mikoto stood, bowed respectfully, and pulled Tatsumi toward the medical camp.
"Tsk tsk," Sakumo chuckled as he watched them walk away. "Kid's got talent… and good taste."
For a brief moment, he wondered—Should I get a girlfriend too? Then he thought, Maybe even have a thoughtful daughter one day. And just like that, Sakumo's thoughts began wandering toward potential candidates for his hypothetical daughter's boyfriend.
Under Mikoto's semi-forced guidance, Tatsumi approached the medical tents. He didn't realize it yet, but his influence would one day cause Kakashi to possibly become… Kakashi.
Though imagining a white-haired female ninja with a mask and dead-fish eyes was oddly entertaining.
"I heard from a friend," Mikoto said, dragging Tatsumi forward, "that her captain once ignored a minor injury. It became a hidden danger. He died in the next battle when it flared up."
"..."
"I just want you to value your life more," she added, glaring at him.
"Okay, okay. I surrender." Tatsumi raised his hands.
The Konoha medical team was already set up in an open area, tents ready for both rest and triage. As expected, there was a long line—too long for someone like Tatsumi to justify cutting, even if he wanted to.
He wasn't about to trouble the medical sage Tsunade with something this minor either. He treasured his limbs.
As they waited, Minato and Nawaki exited one of the tents, supporting each other. They looked absolutely wrecked.
Minato's hands were heavily bandaged. He'd messed up a jutsu and hurt the bones in his palm. Nawaki's wounds had already been treated, but he was still covered in strips of cloth, likely to prevent reopened injuries.
"You guys okay?" Tatsumi asked.
"Just surface wounds. Nothing vital," Minato said with a smile—then winced in pain from the effort.
"Tatsumi, Minato and I killed a Sand Village jōnin!" Nawaki said proudly.
"Mikoto already told me." Tatsumi sighed. "Take it easy. You're making me feel the pain."
An hour later, the Konoha unit, now even smaller in number, resumed marching.
Tatsumi's and Sakumo's positions didn't change. Sakumo remained as rear guard, steady as a mountain. Tatsumi stayed with the food transport convoy, guarding the mid-rear line.
"Hey, little ninja," the uncle driving one of the carts called out. "Wanna let a few of your guys ride for a bit? Consider it thanks for helping me push the cart earlier."
"That would be great. Thanks, Uncle." Tatsumi turned to the others. "You guys hop on and rest."
"But the guard duty…" Nawaki hesitated.
"I'll cover it. Just get some rest."
"…Alright then." Nawaki climbed onto the now-vacant cart bed.
"Minato, you too."
"I'm good," Minato shook his head. "Actually, I've been using this rocky road to train my chakra control. Trying to cancel out vibrations from the soles of my feet requires very precise micro-control."
"Solid logic…" Tatsumi gave him a skeptical look. "But do you plan on launching ninjutsu from your feet?"
"Actually," Minato said smugly, "Jiraiya-sensei did teach me how to do that."
Tatsumi clapped him on the shoulder. "Great. Just don't burn all your chakra doing fancy tricks. I'm not carrying you onto the cart."
"Come on, man. We've been friends for years," Minato laughed.
A few peaceful days passed. Without interference from the Sand shinobi, the Konoha unit's pace didn't increase significantly.
The presence of civilians slowed everything down. Even normal walking was exhausting for them, so every couple of days the team would halt to rest.
Still, Tatsumi couldn't shake one question—why hadn't reinforcements from Konoha arrived yet? Had they gotten lost?
Right then, an Anbu appeared in front of him, silent as a shadow.
"Uchiha Tatsumi. Orochimaru-sama is summoning you."
"Time?"
"Immediately."
That was the benefit of dealing with Anbu: no small talk, no nonsense. Just straight business.
"Got it."
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