A few days had passed.
In that time, my two loyal ANBU guards and I had finally managed to return to the main Iwagakure outpost stationed deep within the contested forest. The journey had been slow—deliberate even—as my body was still recovering. Though my regeneration had helped mend the worst of the damage, every step sent a jolt through my bones, reminding me of the price I had paid in that battle.
When we arrived, the shinobi at the outpost were stunned. Their eyes widened in disbelief the moment they laid eyes on me—the Tsuchikage—returning battered, bruised, and wrapped in torn remnants of my cloak. Some dropped what they were doing. A few ANBU nearby stiffened but said nothing. No one dared to speak—not out of disrespect, but out of pure shock.
Only the medic-nin reacted with any haste, rushing toward me with urgency painted on their faces. They didn't ask questions. They didn't speak. They simply acted.
I wasn't dying. Not exactly. But from the way they looked at me… maybe they thought I was. My appearance must've spoken louder than any words could. Broken ribs, deep lacerations, scorched skin—honestly, I've looked better.
Even so, my regeneration—slow and steady—had been working during the return. It wasn't much, but enough to keep me moving. A minor edge… better than nothing.
They carried me to the medical tent, where the stench of blood and burnt flesh hung in the air like a ghost refusing to leave. Wounded shinobi lay in rows, some groaning in pain, others unconscious. I was placed onto a vacant cot, and for the next four hours, I was subjected to wave after wave of medical ninjutsu. Their hands glowed with green chakra as they focused on repairing torn muscle, shattered cartilage, and internal bleeding.
They also shoved what seemed like a mountain of bitter-tasting herbs down my throat—energy restoratives, healing stimulants. I had my doubts. Grass isn't exactly what I'd rely on to treat battlefield wounds. But they insisted. I allowed it. Let them do their job.
Still, it was unnecessary. My regeneration, while slow, would've taken care of most of it in time. The real threat had already passed.
By the next morning, I found myself tightly wrapped in thick white bandages—half my body mummified. My chest, stomach, and parts of my legs were completely covered. I looked like a broken relic rather than the Tsuchikage of Iwagakure. It wasn't ideal… but better to appear bound and healing than scare the shinobi who looked up to me.
The next step couldn't wait.
I had a meeting to attend.
The commander of the outpost, along with several elite jōnin, awaited my presence in the war tent. This was the main Iwa outpost for the entire front—our strongest defensive node. If there was ever a place to issue new orders, this was it.
I pushed open the flaps of the tent. Inside, the air was thick with tension. A large table stood at the center, surrounded by maps, scrolls, and intel reports. The room was filled with the strongest of Iwa's field commanders and war strategists—all standing in silence, awaiting my command.
They snapped to attention the moment I entered.
Without wasting time, I spoke. My voice, though slightly hoarse, was calm and commanding.
"The situation has changed," I said. "Konoha… has introduced a new element. A powerful shinobi—one we hadn't anticipated. Attacking their main outpost now is too risky. Their defenses are stronger than we thought."
The shinobi listened silently. Eyes narrowed. No one interrupted.
I moved toward the map and placed my hand on a specific region just northeast of our current position.
"Our goal remains unchanged—we must seize momentum and strike hard—but the method will differ. Instead of a direct assault on their main outpost, we will focus on capturing the nearest Land of Fire-controlled city."
A pause.
"But to do so, we'll need to punch a hole in their frontlines."
I gestured across the map, showing the scattered arrangement of Konoha's defensive formations. "Konoha will undoubtedly spread their forces thin across the entire front to hold their ground. We will exploit that."
"We'll concentrate a large portion of our forces on one section. Overwhelm it. Smash through. Once we create the breach, we'll surge forward—straight to the city."
Some commanders nodded. Others leaned in closer.
"This won't just be a tactical victory. Capturing that first city will serve as a new foothold—a fortified stronghold from which we can launch our next operation."
I straightened up and let my fingers slide toward a deeper point in the map. "The next step will be to strike deeper. Once the first city falls, Konoha will be forced to fall back. Their formation will stretch. Weak points will emerge. That's when we move again… and take the second city."
I let the weight of the statement hang.
"Then the third."
A ripple passed through the room.
"If we can take three cities in quick succession, Konoha will be in a dire situation. Their defensive line will collapse under its own length. They won't have enough shinobi to cover all that ground. Their reformation attempts will be disorganized. We will control the roads. The supply chains. Everything."
One jōnin spoke. "And if they call for reinforcements?"
"They might," I said. "But even Konoha would need to pull at least one or two thousand ninja to hold a front that wide. And they can't afford to strip their other fronts bare."
The commander folded his arms, visibly impressed. "If this works… the road to Konoha itself could lie open."
I gave a subtle nod. "Exactly."
Silence again. This time, not from shock—but agreement.
"Of course," I added, "every plan comes with risks. But that's the burden of leadership. We've already reinforced our rear with supply lines. Outposts positioned along key zones ensure we won't lose territory. Our foundation is solid."
I looked each of them in the eye, one by one.
"Now we move."
No arguments came. No resistance. Not even questions. Whether they agreed with the plan or simply chose to stay silent because I was their Tsuchikage, I wasn't sure. But that didn't matter. The plan was sound.
I concluded the meeting with a final order.
"Begin implementation immediately. All field units are to receive the new directives by nightfall. We move under the banner of Operation: Falling Tree."
The room stirred. I saw a spark in their eyes. Determination.
"That is the name of this campaign," I said, smiling faintly. "Let's see how well Konoha handles the fall of their defenses."
As I gave the order to disperse, the room erupted into movement. Commanders rushed out, already barking commands to their subordinates. Papers rustled. Footsteps echoed. The outpost was coming alive.
I remained behind for a moment, standing alone inside the now-quiet tent. I watched as the flaps swung in the wind, carrying the scent of war and earth.
Konoha should enjoy these next few days of silence.
They think we've retreated.
They think we're weakened.
Let them rest.
They have no idea what's coming.