Though Uchiha Tatsumi, Mikoto, and Rope Tree seemed to hold the upper hand in their earlier skirmish with Orochimaru, Tatsumi's final genjutsu faltered, tipping the scales.
That's the nature of combat. Orochimaru's counterattack—two ninjutsu, Hidden Shadow Snake Hand and an Earth Release—routed them swiftly.
The trio had a long road ahead.
Orochimaru critiqued them, his hoarse voice measured. "Your tactics were solid. The initial trap, Tatsumi's feigned inspection to lure me—well-executed. Your teamwork, blending genjutsu, ninjutsu, and taijutsu, was impressive. You three could qualify for chunin already."
As their mentor, Orochimaru first highlighted their strengths.
"But your approach is too reckless," he said sharply. "If you knew my specialties, such aggression might work. But you barely understand me."
"Tatsumi, your genjutsu is exceptional, but overconfidence blinds you. Some opponents resist illusions entirely. Do you know which genjutsu affect me?"
"And you two," he turned to Mikoto and Rope Tree, "your adaptability is lacking. Once I countered your plan, you froze. Tatsumi's genjutsu was already broken, yet you didn't react."
Orochimaru's mentorship was thorough, pinpointing each flaw with precision.
"Combat is a dialogue of mutual understanding," he concluded. "To stand alone as ninjas, you have much to learn."
With a soft sigh, Orochimaru dissolved into smoke—a shadow clone.
Days passed in a blur of travel and training.
The trio spent brief bursts using high-speed Body Flicker Techniques to hasten toward their mission, but most hours were consumed by Orochimaru's relentless sneak attacks and their counter maneuvers.
Time didn't drag for Tatsumi—it slipped away in the adrenaline of survival.
Over these days, Orochimaru launched over fifty ambushes, escalating from obvious ploys to fiendishly subtle strikes. Tatsumi grew so wary he'd prod roadside tufts with a stick, half-expecting Orochimaru's face to emerge.
The Sannin's high-intensity gauntlet left Tatsumi paranoid. A rustling breeze prompted shadow clones before he'd even stand.
Orochimaru, with his devious streak, held the upper hand.
Yet Tatsumi leaned into cunning, embodying a sixteen-word mantra: Hide, strike, adapt, endure. He blended tunnel warfare, explosive tag traps, guerrilla tactics, and ninjutsu, embracing the ninja's essence. Orochimaru approved, occasionally leaving subtle openings for the trio to exploit.
Forming a Water Release jutsu, Tatsumi caught his reflection in the puddle. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, but he grinned. Still a dashing rogue, he thought. My melancholy gaze, raven hair, and tattered cloak—bright as a firefly in the dark. He was captivated by his own flair.
After days of grueling travel, the four neared their mission's target, close to the River Country's border.
The River Country, wedged between the Fire and Wind Countries, was named for its great river. Larger than most small nations—twice the Rain Country's size—it lacked the Rain's legendary Hanzo or the Hot Spring Country's tourist allure. Its sandy terrain, barely better than the Wind Country's deserts, relied on the river for survival.
"We'll soon reach Rogue Town," Orochimaru said, unfurling a map scroll. He glanced at the forest's edge ahead.
"Are we entering now?" Tatsumi asked.
Orochimaru nodded. "We'll rest there tonight, resupply, and recover."
The trio had pushed their physical and mental limits under Orochimaru's relentless harassment. Rest was essential before their first kill.
Mikoto and Rope Tree gathered around the map, studying Rogue Town's proximity to the River Country. Their true target lay beyond, in Windmill Village, a haven for bandits, rebels, and rumored pirates—their mission's focus.
Orochimaru removed his forehead protector and stowed the map. "Change your clothes," he instructed.
Tatsumi, Mikoto, and Rope Tree nodded. To hunt bandits, they couldn't advertise their Konoha ties. Two Uchiha trench coats, Senju clan garb, and Orochimaru's jonin vest were too conspicuous. Bandits or rebel spies might lurk in the town.
"We can't strut in like this—it'd spook them," Rope Tree said, nodding sagely. "I planned for this."
Then his face fell. "Oh no! I forgot casual clothes—only brought Senju gear!"
Orochimaru's expression turned mock-regretful, a sly smile creeping in. "You're the only one unprepared."
"No way! Tatsumi didn't bring any either—I checked his pack!" Rope Tree pointed accusingly.
Mikoto pulled a set of plain clothes from her scroll and handed them to Tatsumi. "Here, I brought spares in case you forgot."
Tatsumi shot Rope Tree a smug look, shaking out the clothes with a flourish.
Rope Tree clutched his chest, wounded by the betrayal.
"Rope Tree, if you're desperate, Mikoto has another set—women's clothes, unworn," Tatsumi teased.
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