On the day of the finals, Sato Fan did not go to the exam site.
He sat in the warehouse office, a ledger spread out on the table before him, pen placed to the side.
A crack in the window let in outside sounds—faint cheers in the distance, presumably the finals had begun.
All that remained was to wait.
Sato Fan leaned back in his chair, listening to the sounds outside.
The cheers continued, occasionally interspersed with sporadic popping sounds, like explosive tags detonating in the distance.
He looked at the clock on the table—10:20 AM.
According to the original timeline, Orochimaru should launch his attack shortly after the finals began.
By now, the Third Hokage was likely already engaging Orochimaru.
He stood up, walked to the warehouse door, and opened it a crack.
The street outside was empty; everyone had gone to watch the match.
Sunlight hit the paved road, reflecting a blinding white light.
The cheers in the distance suddenly changed pitch, turning into screams and gasps of shock.
It had begun.
Sato Fan’s heart rate accelerated.
He closed the door, took the sealing scroll from the desk drawer, and tucked it close to his body.
He also took out a waist pouch containing a few smoke bombs and several explosive tags, fastening it to his waist.
Finally, he tucked the Chakra-conducting metal Kunai behind his waist.
Preparation complete.
He sat down and continued to wait.
Wait for what?
Wait for the chaos to spread to the Logistics Area.
According to his plan, he wouldn’t go out and throw his life away.
He would stay in the warehouse, wait for the battle to reach here, and then leave amidst the chaos.
The warehouse’s location was remote; it was highly unlikely any enemies would come.
He could stay there safely until evening, then go home, and take his parents to a safe place.
But after waiting for more than ten minutes, there was no movement outside.
Sato Fan walked to the door and opened it a crack again.
The street was still empty.
The sounds of explosions and shouting in the distance came intermittently; although they were very close, no one came here.
This wouldn’t do.
If no one came, how was he supposed to balance the books?
He needed to find a reasonable excuse for the warehouse being “destroyed.”
Sato Fan stood for a while, his mind racing.
Then he formed hand seals and created a Shadow Clone.
The Shadow Clone stood before him, identical to him.
“Go out and lure some enemies over,” Sato Fan said to his Shadow Clone.
“Don’t go too far, just stay near the Logistics Area.
Find a lone Otogakure ninja, deliberately show yourself, and then run toward the warehouse.”
“Lure how many?”
“As many as you can.
The key is to get the warehouse burning; the bigger the commotion, the better.”
The Shadow Clone nodded and left through the warehouse’s back door.
Sato Fan’s main body began setting the final trap.
At the warehouse entrance and inside, he set up a chain-reaction trap: steel tripwires connected to explosive tags, which in turn connected to more explosive tags, forming a small explosion network.
As long as someone stepped on the first tripwire, the entire warehouse would be blown sky-high in seconds.
Then he retreated to a hidden corner outside the warehouse and watched from afar.
After waiting about five minutes, the Shadow Clone returned.
It wasn’t alone—three people wearing black trench coats were following it.
Sato Fan looked from his corner; their headbands were from OSError.
All three were holding weapons, their faces wearing ferocious expressions.
“That brat ran over there!”
“Chase him!
Don’t let him get away!”
The Shadow Clone ran into the warehouse.
The three people followed closely and charged in.
Sato Fan crouched in the corner and covered his ears.
To be safe, he had covered the Shadow Clone in explosive tags; he was playing “Gold Release.”
Three seconds later, the first explosion came from the warehouse.
Boom— explosive tags detonated one after another, fire spewing from the windows and door cracks, fragments flying everywhere.
In a few seconds, the entire warehouse turned into a sea of flames.
The shockwave of the explosions knocked the branches and leaves off several surrounding trees, and the ground trembled slightly.
Sato Fan crouched in the corner, feeling the heatwave sweep across his face, burning his skin.
He didn’t move, just stared at the sea of flames.
The explosions continued for about ten seconds, then gradually stopped.
The fire was still burning, but there were no new explosions.
He stood up from the corner and slowly approached the warehouse.
Flames engulfed the entire building, and the shelves collapsed in the fire.
Suddenly, an Otogakure ninja was thrown out the door by the shockwave of the explosion.
Seeing Sato Fan, he immediately turned and ran; he was already seriously injured.
What about the other two?
Sato Fan looked around, but didn’t see anyone else.
They were probably buried in the ruins, or had run out the back, but he didn’t care.
The important thing was that the warehouse had burned down—burned thoroughly—and all traces would disappear in this fire.
No one would know it had once been full of supplies, and no one would know where those supplies had gone.
When the fire went out, everything would turn to ash.
He turned and ran toward his home.
The street was already a mess.
People were running everywhere—civilians, merchants, old people, children—everyone was panicked.
Some were clutching bundles, others were holding children, and some were pushing carts toward the evacuation area.
Explosions and shouts came from the distance, and buildings collapsed from time to time with loud noises, raising clouds of dust.
Sato Fan ran against the flow of people toward his home.
His home was in a row of single-story houses east of the Logistics Area, about a fifteen-minute walk from the warehouse.
He passed a few alleys on the way and heard sounds of fighting, but he didn’t stop to look.
He only wanted to go home now, find his parents, and take them away from this chaotic place.
After running for about ten minutes, he saw the row of houses where he lived.
But the house was on fire.
Sato Fan’s heart sank sharply.
He quickened his pace and rushed to his front door.
The door was half-open, thick smoke billowing from inside, and tongues of fire licked out of the windows.
He rushed in, hunching over, covering his mouth and nose with his arm.
“Dad!
Mom!”
No one answered.
He groped through the smoke, passed through the living room, and pushed open the bedroom door.
The bedroom was also on fire, but there was no one there.
He checked the kitchen, bathroom, and storage room—all empty.
Not at home!
Sato Fan retreated from the house and stood on the street at the door, panting heavily.
The fire scorched his face, and the smoke made his throat ache.
But he couldn’t care about that.
His parents weren’t home, which meant they might have already escaped.
He turned and ran toward the center of the Village.
That was the direction of the shelter—every time the Village was attacked, civilians were evacuated to the shelter near the Hokage Building.
The shelter was in the basement of the Hokage Building, with the entrance behind the building.
When Sato Fan arrived, there was a long line at the entrance, and the crowd was moving slowly inside.
He squeezed to the front and was stopped by a Chunin.
“Line up at the back!
Don’t push!”
“I’m looking for my parents!” Sato Fan pushed away his hand and rushed into the entrance.
The basement was packed with people; crying, shouting, and praying mixed together, as noisy as a wet market.
Sato Fan moved through the crowd, looking at them one by one.
Old people, women, children, injured men—he saw many familiar faces, all neighbors from the Logistics Area.
But his parents were not among them.
He searched from beginning to end, then searched again.
Nothing.
Sato Fan stood in the corner of the basement, his heart beating fast.
A terrible thought popped into his mind—did his parents not manage to escape?
But the fire at home was already raging; no one could survive inside.
He turned and rushed out of the basement, almost bumping into someone.
“Sato?”
Sato Fan looked up and saw a familiar face.
Section Chief Yamada.
Yamada’s clothes were covered in gray, and there was a bloodstain on his face, but he didn’t look seriously injured.
He grabbed Sato Fan’s shoulder.
“Are you okay?
The warehouse caught fire, and some people saw Otogakure ninjas running out from there.”
“I don’t know.
Section Chief Yamada, have you seen my parents?”
Yamada froze for a moment.
“Your parents?
I just saw Sato Michi over by the shelter, he seemed to be looking for your mom…”
Sato Fan didn’t wait for him to finish, turned and ran.
He ran past the Hokage Building, past the main street, past Ichiraku Ramen—the ramen shop’s facade had collapsed halfway, the sign falling to the ground and being crushed to pieces.
He ran to the Logistics Area, ran to the street where his home was.
The fire was still burning, but smaller than before.
He walked forward along the street, shouting as he walked: “Dad!
Mom!”
No one answered.
When he reached the end of the street, he heard a faint response.
“Fan…”
Sato Fan turned his head sharply; the voice came from a small alley by the road.
He rushed into the alley and saw Sato Michi sitting on the ground against the wall, holding Sato Umeko in his arms.
Both were covered in dirt and soot; Sato Michi’s forehead was bleeding, and a large part of Sato Umeko’s clothes was scorched.
“Dad!” Sato Fan rushed over, crouched down, and checked their injuries.
Sato Michi’s forehead had a gash from debris, blood covering half his face, but he was conscious.
Sato Umeko had her eyes closed, her breathing very weak, no obvious wounds on her body, but her face was frighteningly pale.
“Your mom inhaled smoke…” Sato Michi’s voice was hoarse, “When we ran out, she inhaled a lot of smoke…”
Sato Fan took a medical kit from his waist pouch, tore open the packaging, took out bandages and hemostatic agent, and quickly bandaged Sato Michi’s forehead wound.
Then he crouched beside Sato Umeko and felt her breath with his hand—she was still breathing, but very weakly.
“Can you walk?” he asked Sato Michi.
“Yes.” Sato Michi stood up, leaning against the wall, his legs a little shaky, but he stood steady.
Sato Fan carried Sato Umeko on his back, supporting her with one hand and helping Sato Michi with the other.
“Follow me.”
He carried his mother on his back, supported his father, and walked through the smoke-filled streets toward the shelter.
On the way, he met a few panicked civilians; Sato Fan pointed them toward the shelter, but didn’t stop.
At the shelter entrance, the Chunin was still maintaining order.
Seeing Sato Fan carrying someone over, he didn’t stop them again, stepping aside to let them in.
The basement was still noisy.
Sato Fan found a corner, put Sato Umeko down, and let her sit against the wall.
Sato Michi sat beside her, holding her hand.
“Mom will be fine,” Sato Fan said, his voice calmer than he expected, “She just inhaled smoke, she’ll be fine after a rest.”
Sato Michi nodded without speaking.
Sato Fan crouched next to his parents, took the water bottle from his waist pouch, and gave Sato Michi a sip.
Then he placed the water bottle next to Sato Umeko, waiting for her to wake up.
The explosions outside were still continuing, but a bit further away than before.
The people in the shelter gradually quieted down; some were praying in low voices, some were weeping softly.
A little girl leaned in her mother’s arms and fell asleep.
Sato Fan sat down against the wall and closed his eyes.
He opened his eyes and looked at his parents.
Sato Michi was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, the bandage on his forehead already soaked with blood.
Sato Umeko’s complexion was a bit better than before, and her breathing was steadier.
Sato Fan reached out and held his mother’s hand.
Her hand was cold, but her pulse was beating.
“It will be okay,” he said softly.
It was as if he was speaking to his parents, and also to himself.