Perhaps the weather was cooperating—it hadn't rained since yesterday.
The morning mist was just beginning to clear from the forest when Raicho's squad huddled together, gnawing on their rations.
If they set out again at daybreak, they'd still make it to report to Orochimaru within the scheduled time.
Whether it was his own imagination or not, the closer they got to Kikyō Castle, the more Tōji felt a faint metallic tang hanging in the air.
"Everyone stay sharp. We're not far from the front lines—there's no telling if some Suna-nin are still lurking nearby." Raicho's expression had turned noticeably more serious. He'd probably seen more than enough "field lessons" out here.
The three rookies, fresh out of the Academy, went from mild nervousness to moderate apprehension in an instant.
Even though Tōji's mental age was far beyond his teens, before coming to this world he'd never even killed a chicken—let alone a person. Right now, he was just as scared and tense as his two genin teammates.
Spotting the sprawling military encampment near Kikyō Castle, Raicho made a hand gesture for those behind him to stop. "Wait here for me. I'll go report in."
Tōji and the others nodded in acknowledgment, then took in their surroundings.
The rear tents nearest to them were relatively quiet. Most of the people coming and going seemed to be medical-nin.
Among the few active shinobi they could see, barely any weren't wrapped in bandages.
Not far from where Raicho's squad stood, there were other fresh genin—recently arrived from the village—also waiting for assignments.
Even when they spotted familiar faces, squads only exchanged a brief nod from where they stood. That was enough.
"What is war really like...?" Akane murmured, gazing at one of the tents from which faint groans of pain could be heard.
"Probably something you'd rather not know," Tōji said. And he meant it.
The usually quiet Natchi gave a small nod of agreement.
Even in a ceasefire, Kikyōyama still pressed down on the rookies like a suffocating weight.
Several people filed out of a larger tent in the distance—one of them was Raicho.
When he made his way back to the squad, he said, "Unless there's any change in plans, we can head straight to our mission."
He swept his gaze across his three subordinates. A few seconds passed. No one spoke.
"Alright…" Raicho unfolded the map he'd been holding, pointed at a spot on it, "We'll start here—"
He glanced at the rookies again. "—and do a grid search." His index finger traced a short line across the map—short on paper, but enough to keep them busy for an entire day.
"Due to manpower shortages, Lord Orochimaru's arrangements prioritize efficiency… The four of us will maintain fifty paces of separation, each covering our own sector. If you find a comrade still worth saving, signal—" Raicho was cut off by Akane.
"Still worth saving?" She probably hadn't picked up on the instructors' euphemisms at the Academy—hence the question.
"Yeah. Exactly what it sounds like." Raicho didn't elaborate. "If you happen to find a comrade who's… beyond that, just mark them clearly. Other squads will handle the collection. We're only responsible for the search."
"And one more thing—watch out for any traps left behind in these woods. Keep an eye out for possible enemy ambushes. If you sense any danger, send a distress signal immediately. Don't hesitate. I want all of you to make it back to the village." Raicho's tone was solemn as he ran through the precautions.
"We studied this kind of stuff at the Academy. We'll be careful," Natchi said. He was bad at conversation, and honestly, his reassurance wasn't all that reassuring either.