Chapter 67

As a result, we arrived at the former territory of the Land of Stone, where Konoha's main camp was now located, somewhat tired but whole and healthy. Trained fighters can move continuously for several days and then dive straight into battle, but since there were some inexperienced chunin among the reinforcements, the commander set a more economical pace that allowed covering huge distances in a day, even for those with modest chakra reserves.

Upon arrival, the camp itself didn't impress me much—temporary earth-style homes studded with techniques, heaps of tents, and around it all, a six-meter wall, again constructed with the help of doton. That was about it. I counted the camp's inhabitants—not as many as one might think, just over a thousand. Considering that the overwhelming majority came out to greet us, my rough estimates weren't far off from reality, even accounting for patrols, secrets, and simply those resting. At most, two thousand. And this is the main camp...

Clearly, Iwagakure's last attack severely depleted our forces, as at the war's onset on this front, there were eight thousand fighters. Adding two smaller camps of a thousand each at best and Konoha's losses in the Second World War become very significant. At the war's start, there were around twenty-one thousand in formation; now, less than half remain, with only Suna having surrendered, and Ame and Iwa next in line.

After arrival, the commanders went to report to the local chief, and we were dispersed to rest in the barracks until morning. Assignments were to be received at the headquarters bunker immediately, so people sprawled out to sleep with clear consciences, including my less enduring partners, while I decided to wander around the camp. Frankly, I regretted it—there was a rather heavy atmosphere there, to put it mildly.

Despite the apparent joy at such a large reinforcement (when did they last receive any?), the vast majority of shinobi and kunoichi bore traces of exhaustion, both physical and moral. Some had such empty looks that I instinctively recoiled and quickened my pace, trying not to get too close. I was no longer surprised to see small groups, passing around bottles of sake or sharing a single pipe.

The serene and almost happy faces of smokers raised suspicions that the pipe's contents were anything but tobacco. However, it should be noted that such groups were relatively few in plain sight, indicating that discipline was maintained quite strictly... considering the circumstances and the state of the subordinates, of course.

Wandering aimlessly, I happened to catch sight of a very familiar pineapple-shaped hairstyle belonging to a shinobi leaning against the wall. Approaching closer, I confirmed it was indeed Shikaku! Ha, didn't expect to see that lazy ass here!

***

"Hey, Shikaku! Hey there!" I cheerfully greeted my cousin as soon as I got within speaking distance without needing to shout.

The lazy one slowly opened his eyes and focused them on me.

"Ryo-nii? Trouble. Can't even sleep peacefully now!"

"Oh, you're always sleeping, so drag your lazy butt up and open your eyes! You'll have plenty of time to laze around."

That's when I noticed new adornments on Shikaku's face, besides the emerging beard.

"Hmm, where did you get those scars?" I asked him as my cousin grunted and struggled to stand up, dusting off his pants.

The still-red scars indicated the relative freshness of his injuries, received from rather shoddy medical ninjas who had only roughly pulled together the edges of the damaged flesh. It looked more like the work of a novice student than a qualified specialist.

"We got pinned down a week ago in a patrol by some Stone-nin," the guy jerked his cheek, wincing in pain. "Sarutobi-sensei died covering our retreat, and we ended up with these troublesome marks as a souvenir."

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