I, Uchiha, will not be whitewashed!

After defeating the Seven Ninja Swordsmen, the camp entered a brief period of calm.

The Hidden Mist's frontline camp was destroyed, and the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist lost two members, with the rest fleeing back to the Land of Water.

The fighting on the Eastern Front deteriorated from large-scale conflicts to small-scale skirmishes, with patrols and reconnaissance replacing direct combat. Shogo's left shoulder wound required regular dressing changes, and the medical team assigned him a dedicated nurse—Nohara Rin.

She was a medical ninja and also his former deskmate; the two were "acquaintances," so this arrangement made perfect sense.

When Lin carried the tray into the tent, Shuoge was sitting on the edge of the bed wiping his knife.

Her footsteps were very light, but he still heard them.

He looked up at her, said nothing, leaned the knife against the bedside, turned around, and turned his left shoulder towards her.

Lin walked over, sat down, and removed the old bandage.

There was blood on the bandage; it had dried, dark red, and stuck to the wound.

Her movements were gentle; she first soaked the bandage with an alcohol swab, then slowly peeled it off. Shuoge didn't frown, didn't gasp, as if the body wasn't his.

Lin glanced at him, said nothing, and lowered her head to apply the ointment. The ointment was cool and felt very comfortable on the wound.

"Come again at this time tomorrow." Lin finished wrapping the new bandage and tied a knot.

Shuo Ge nodded.

Lin carried the tray away.

She stopped at the tent entrance without turning around. "The anti-inflammatory medicine is on the table. Remember to take it."

Shuoge glanced down at the pills and water glass on the table, but didn't touch them.

He picked up the knife and continued wiping.

The next day, when Lin arrived, the pills were still on the table.

She glanced at the pills, then at Shuoge. He sat on the edge of the bed, knife on his lap, in the exact same posture as yesterday.

Lin walked over, put down the tray, and didn't rush to change the dressing. She picked up the water glass and handed it to Shuoge.

"medicine."

Shuoge glanced at the pills, then at Lin. "No need."

"Your wound is infected." Lin's voice was still soft, but her tone had changed. It wasn't a request, but a statement. "Without medicine, the wound won't heal."

"I know my body," Shuoge said calmly.

He glanced at the pill on the table.

Anti-inflammatory drugs can speed up healing, but they can also make the body sluggish.

The flow of chakra, the reaction of nerves, the contraction of muscles—the drug will slow them all down a little.

On the battlefield, even the slightest hesitation can cost a life.

So he never eats it.

The wound will heal, just slowly.

But slower is better than death.

"You don't know." Lin pushed the water glass forward a little more. "My father was also a ninja. He was injured but wouldn't take his medicine, and later his arm was ruined. He was never able to go to the front lines again."

Shuoge's fingers paused. He looked into Lin's eyes. There was no anger, no blame in those eyes, only one thing—seriousness. That kind of seriousness that said, "I'm not discussing this with you."

He took the pill, put it in his mouth, drank some water, and swallowed. Lin took the water glass back, placed it on the table, and began to remove the bandages. Her movements were still as gentle as ever, but faster than yesterday.

"I'll come again tomorrow," Lin's voice came from behind.

Shuoge did not speak.

On the third day, Shuoge was not in the tent.

Lin searched around with the tray and finally found him on the training ground at the edge of the camp. He was swinging a knife, the bandage on his left shoulder had come loose, and the white cloth strip was fluttering in the wind, revealing the dark red wound underneath.

The wound reopened, and blood seeped from the edges of the gauze, trickling down my arm.

He didn't stop.

Lin stood at the edge of the training field, holding a tray, watching him. She didn't call out to him, nor did she go over to him; she simply stood there, waiting for him.

After waiting for a quarter of an hour, Shuoge sheathed his sword, turned around, and saw her.

Lin walked up to him, put the tray on the ground, squatted down, and began to remove the bandages.

This time she didn't say anything.

Shuoge didn't speak either. The two remained silent, one disassembling, the other sitting. The wound had indeed reopened and needed to be stitched up again.

Lin's needle is very fine, her thread is very fine, and her hands are very steady.

"Are you trying to ruin this shoulder?" Lin finally spoke. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was heavy.

Shuoge looked at her.

"You swing the knife ten thousand or twenty thousand times a day, but you don't rest. The wound reopens and gets stitched up again, then reopens again. One day it will become useless."

Lin pierced the skin with the needle and tied a knot. "Then you'll never be able to hold a knife again."

Shuoge remained silent for a while.

"understood."

What he didn't say was that he saw his limits during the battle with the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist.

Dai, who had opened seven gates, almost died.

He fought with all his might, killing two and seriously wounding two others.

But that was just the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist.

How many more opponents like them are there in the ninja world? How many monsters are even stronger than them?

He couldn't wait.

The wound can heal slowly, but the enemy will not wait for him.

The medicine would dull his senses, and rest would slow him down. He could only keep swinging the knife, even if the wound reopened, even if his arm was truly ruined.

Becoming stronger never comes without a price.

Lin glanced at him. His face was expressionless, but she knew he had truly listened. She cut the thread, applied ointment, and wrapped the bandage tightly. This time, she wrapped it tighter than before, so tight that Shuoge felt resistance when he moved his shoulders.

"Change it if it gets loose." Lin stood up and picked up the tray. "The stitches will be removed in three days."

she left.

From then on, Shuoge would stay a little longer when changing his dressings.

They didn't speak, but they weren't in a hurry to leave either.

Lin didn't chase him away.

Sometimes she would tell him about the medical team—who was injured, who was recovering well, and who might never be able to stand up again.

Sakugo listened, nodding occasionally. Lin knew he was listening, because the next day he would ask, "How's that Chunin with the broken leg doing?"

Obito was discovered on the fourth day.

He came to the medical tent to find Lin and saw Shuoge sitting there, with Lin changing his dressing.

The two were very close. Lin was looking down, focused on wrapping the bandage, while Shuoge was looking down at her hands.

Obito paused for a moment as he stood at the tent entrance.

"Lin, I—"

Rin looked up, saw Obito, and smiled. "Obito? What brings you here?"

"I...I'm fine." Obito put his hands in his pockets and raised his chin.

"Just passing by."

His gaze swept over Shuoge for a moment, then moved away.

Shuoge didn't look at him.

Lin continued to wrap the bandages.

Obito stood at the doorway, neither leaving nor coming in. He watched for a while, then turned and left. His footsteps were heavy, leaving deep footprints in the sand.

That evening, Obito found Sakugo.

Sakugo was refining chakra inside the tent. Obito lifted the curtain, walked in, and stood in front of him. The two stared at each other for a few seconds.

"You and Rin..." Obito began, then stopped.

Shuoge looked at him.

"Never mind." Obito turned and walked away. After taking two steps, he stopped, without looking back. "She changed your bandages because you're injured. Don't overthink it."

Shuoge did not speak.

Obito is gone.

-

The next day, Lin came to change her dressing, her face showing worry and exhaustion, seemingly due to the increase in wounded soldiers in the camp.

Shuoge is refining chakra.

Lin removed the bandages, applied the medicine, and wrapped them again, her movements more skillful than before.

"The stitches will be removed tomorrow." She stood up, picked up the tray, and left.

On the day the stitches were removed, Lin cut the last thread, took off the bandage, and checked the wound. The wound had healed very well, leaving only a pink scar.

"Okay." Lin stood up.

Shuoge pulled up his clothes, hung the knife on his back, and prepared to leave.

"Shuoge," Lin called out to him.

He turned around.

"Be more careful in the future."

Shuoge looked at her and nodded.

he's gone.

Lin stood there, watching his back as he walked out of the tent. A knife behind his back, hands at his sides, his steps neither fast nor slow.

She suddenly remembered the first day she changed his dressing; he hadn't said a word. He was still silent now. But she knew he wouldn't forget to take his medicine.

She lowered her head and began tidying up her medicine kit. There was one pill left on the tray—an anti-inflammatory. She threw the pill into the trash can, picked up the tray, and walked out of the tent.

Outside, the sun is shining brightly.

In the distance, some people are training, some are running, and some are shouting "Youth!"

Lin smiled slightly, very softly.

If only there were no war.

pity--

She lowered her head, picked up the tray, and walked towards the medical tent. Other wounded soldiers were waiting for her.

……

……

……

The Land of Water, the Hidden Mist Village.

There were no lights in the meeting room.

Darkness crept in from the corner like a tide, engulfing everyone's faces. Seven people sat on either side of the long table, but only their outlines could be seen—shoulders, chins, and the occasional glimpse of half an eye peeking out from the glow of a cigarette butt.

"The frontline camp has been captured."

The speaker's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against sheet metal. "The command post, supply depot, and communication points have all been destroyed. The frontline commander is dead, the troops have lost unified command, and have retreated to the coastline."

No one responded.

"Where are the Seven Ninja Swordsmen?"

"Two were broken. Murei Jinpachi and Kurihara Kushimaru. The other four were seriously injured, and Hozuki Senjin lost an arm."

At the end of the long table, a person who had been silent all along spoke.

His voice was very soft, as if it came from underwater.

"Who did it?"

"Orochimaru and Sakumo Hatake of Konoha launched a surprise attack on the camp. But it wasn't them who crippled the Seven Ninja Swordsmen."

"Who is it?"

"A small team. Four people. One Chunin, two Genin, and a monster who has mastered the forbidden Eight Gates." The speaker paused, as if to confirm that he hadn't misread the information.

"The Chunin is called Uchiha Sakugo, and he's not even ten years old. The one who opened the Eight Gates is called Might Guy, and he opened the seventh gate of the Eight Gates."

silence.

The cigarette butt flickered briefly before going dark again.

"A Chunin under ten years old crippled the Seven Ninja Swordsmen?"

"It wasn't just him. But his name was mentioned multiple times in the Seven Ninja Swordsmen's reports. They said his sword was very fast, his eyes were very sharp, and his ninjutsu was very diverse. He used Wind Release, Fire Release, Hatake-ryu swordsmanship, and the Sharingan of the Uchiha clan—all of them combined together."

At the head of the long table, an aged voice finally rang out.

"Konoha has produced quite a few geniuses in recent years."

"We can't let them keep growing stronger," another voice chimed in. "White Fang, Yellow Flash, the Legendary Sannin, and this Blade—one after another they're popping up, how are we supposed to fight them?"

"so what?"

"Therefore, we need to change our strategy. We no longer have an advantage on the main battlefield. But war is not just about the main battlefield."

The aged voice paused for a moment. "Go on."

"The seal on the Three-Tails, Isobu, is complete. Capture a Konoha ninja, seal the Three-Tails inside, and release him back into Konoha. The Three-Tails will go berserk, throwing Konoha into chaos, forcing the front lines to retreat. We can then seize the opportunity to reclaim lost territory and even launch a counter-offensive."

"Who should we arrest?"

"The front lines are chaotic, so just grab anyone. Medical ninjas are best; they're easy to control and easy to release. Ideally, they should be someone connected to those geniuses in Konoha—Kakashi Hatake, Obito Uchiha, or that Blade. Once the Jinchuriki are released, their teammates will definitely come to rescue them, and then we can take care of them too."

"What are the specific goals?"

"Adapt to the situation. You never know what will happen on the battlefield. We'll just have to catch whoever we can."

The aged voice rang out again. "The plan is feasible. Execute it. The sealing of the Three-Tails will take time. Bring them here within a week."

"Yes."

The meeting ended. The seven people stood up and walked out of the meeting room one after another. The darkness was torn open by the light from outside the door, then closed again.

Outside the Hidden Mist Village, waves crashed against the rocks in waves, like some kind of countdown.

-

Meanwhile, at the Konoha East Front camp.

Sakugo's injuries have healed. Only a pink scar remains on his left shoulder, almost invisible unless you look closely. He still wields his sword every day, still refines his chakra, and still goes on patrol missions with Guy and Kurenai.

Lin would occasionally come to the medical tent to see him, not to change his dressings—his wounds had already healed—but just to glance at him as she passed by to make sure he was still there and alive.

Obito still gets jealous.

Every time he saw Lin and Shuoge talking, he would put his hands in his pockets, raise his chin, and pretend not to care.

But one time, Sakugo overheard him saying to Kakashi on the training field, "Kakashi, do you think Rin has feelings for Sakugo...?"

Kakashi glanced at him. "Are you just bored?"

Obito choked, his face turning bright red.

Shuoge walked past without stopping or turning back.

But his lips twitched slightly, very briefly, like the wind brushing across the water.

Days passed by like this.

The war continues, but the fighting on the Eastern Front is no longer as intense as before.

The Hidden Mist Village was tightening its defenses, while the Leaf Village was gathering its strength. Everyone knew that the next wave of attack could come at any moment. But no one knew in what form it would arrive.

Inside the camp, the surface appeared calm, but beneath the surface, tension was high.

The patrol density doubled, and the hidden sentries were extended from the edge of the camp to five miles away.

The queue outside the supply warehouse was three times longer than before, and the records of the issuance of explosive tags and medicines filled the entire booklet.

Fewer and fewer people are eating in the canteen—not because they're not hungry, but because they don't have time to eat. Some are taking advantage of the time to sleep, some are taking advantage of the time to sharpen their knives, and some are staring blankly at maps in their tents.

No one spoke, but everyone felt it.

The oppressive feeling of an impending great battle, like the fog over the East China Sea, spread from the sea surface and seeped into every corner of the camp little by little.

You can't grasp it, you can't see it, but you know it's there. It's there when you eat, when you wipe your knife, when you close your eyes to sleep—it's there, waiting.