The new supervising jōnin was called Rawari.
[He was clearly a civilian-born shinobi—no clan name, no pedigree. But someone with no background who managed to become a tokubetsu jōnin must have something exceptional about him.]
[For civilian-born shinobi, tokubetsu jōnin was pretty much the peak of their career.]
[If they got greedy and tried to take one more step beyond that peak… well, that was usually the end of the line.]
He stood about a meter sixty—definitely on the short side—but he was built like a tank. Tōji wouldn't have been surprised if he weighed a hundred and twenty-five kilos.
And he didn't just have two long scars on his face—there was another one running through his grayish-blue buzz cut, clearly visible. It made you think he'd been through countless battles.
There wasn't a trace of a smile on his face. His slightly square jaw only added to that iron-blooded soldier vibe.
Aside from saying, "I'm your new squad leader, Rawari," when he met Tōji and the others, he didn't say another word. Just kept that stern face the whole time.
Their other new teammate was called Hitsuchi Jakkō, a newly promoted chūnin.
He had medium-length black hair tied up casually with a rubber band. His dark gray eyes didn't exactly fit the conventional idea of good looks—[in Tōji's opinion, those eyes, which always seemed to carry a hint of amusement, had a certain… androgynous beauty?]
Strapped to both his thighs were short blades, dagger-style. Each one, handle included, was about as long as his thigh.
According to his own account—
He was like Tōji and Natchi—he'd lost his original squad and had been shuffled under Rawari.
Jakkō was around fifteen—a few years older than Tōji and Natchi. He'd first been sent to the front lines at thirteen.
Though he'd never seen direct combat on the main battlefield, even as a logistics shinobi, he'd lost five teammates in total. [That kind of track record could only mean one thing—anyone unfortunate enough to be on his squad had terrible luck.]
Before this, he'd been in a three-man team with two other chūnin, handling supply transport. Their convoy had been ambushed while delivering shinobi tools to the front. Both teammates died on the spot, and he was badly injured.
But now he'd mostly recovered—and was dragged right back out to fill a slot for "cleanup duty."
"It's fine, really. My injuries are already healed. Let's leave the limited beds to the severely wounded who were sent back yesterday." Those were Jakkō's exact words—said with a smile.
[Tōji believed in the saying "the face reveals the heart." He had a feeling this Hitsuchi Jakkō might be a schemer. He made a mental note to keep an eye on him.]
[Rawari, on the other hand—that type put Tōji more at ease.]
Rawari arranged the sweep with himself and Jakkō on the flanks, and Tōji and Natchi in the middle.
If it weren't for Orochimaru's efficiency requirements, he'd probably have split them into three groups—with Tōji and Natchi together.
But he still carried out Orochimaru's orders to the letter.
Since Rawari never cracked a smile, and Tōji and Natchi avoided talking to Jakkō unless necessary, the four of them barely had any real interaction by the time the battlefield sweep was finally completed—on the fourth day.
They hadn't received new orders yet when word suddenly came down—the Third Hokage was sending Tsunade to take over command at Kikyōyama, and had ordered Orochimaru back to Konoha ahead of schedule.
[Tōji, being the lowly rookie he was, certainly wasn't privy to the details.]
[But as a "prophet," it wasn't hard to guess what was going on.]
[Nine times out of ten, Orochimaru had been using the war as cover for his human experiments—and someone had caught wind of it.]
[So Hiruzen Sarutobi was using "beefing up post-war medical care" as an excuse to swap in Tsunade, while bringing Orochimaru back to the village where he could keep an eye on him.]
[The problem was—Tsunade had been suffering from hemophobia for years now. And Orochimaru knew that all too well.]