While Akira and his team examined the mission briefing, the envoy from the Land of Rice Fields silently studied them with evident hesitation and uncertainty in his eyes.
The Third Hokage, noticing the envoy's unease, gently asked, "Is there something troubling you? Do you have any concerns about this mission? Please, speak freely. We value your honesty."
The envoy stepped forward, his voice cautious, as he glanced once more at Akira and the others. "Well... we understand that Konoha is currently facing a shortage of manpower, but the threat we're dealing with isn't small. There are dozens of rogue ninjas causing chaos in our country."
He paused, clearly struggling with how to phrase his next concern without sounding disrespectful. "Is sending just one squad truly sufficient? If the issue is funding, we're willing to apply to the Daimyo for a larger reward to support the mission."
As he spoke, his eyes flickered back to Akira's team, lingering on their youthful faces.
The Third Hokage chuckled softly, his tone reassuring. He gestured toward the team. "Do not worry. Every Konoha ninja undergoes rigorous training. They are not like the undisciplined mercenaries and rogues you may have encountered. This squad in particular is one of our most outstanding units. Their combat abilities are top-tier, even by Konoha's standards. You can rest assured—they will fulfill the mission with excellence."
Still, the envoy seemed unconvinced. His gaze shifted from Kosuke to Akira and then to Anko, lingering with concern. "This captain seems experienced, but the other three... aren't they a bit too young? Can they truly be entrusted with such an important mission?"
At that, Kosuke took a step forward, offering a respectful bow. "Sir, I believe there's a misunderstanding. I'm not the captain. I'm merely a Genin."
He then motioned to the boy beside him. "This here is our captain, Lord Uchiha Akira."
The envoy's eyes widened in disbelief. He stared at Akira—clearly the youngest of the group, barely ten years old. For a moment, he seemed frozen in place, struggling to form words.
The Third Hokage, reading the confusion and shock in his expression, explained with a kind smile, "Don't be fooled by his age. Akira is a gifted shinobi—one of Konoha's finest. You might know him by a different name: Konoha's Lightning."
Anko, unable to contain her pride, chimed in enthusiastically, "That's right! Our captain is incredible. When he had just graduated, he fought Might Guy-sama to a draw!"
The envoy's jaw nearly dropped. "Wait—he's the Konoha Lightning? The same Uchiha Akira who defeated Pakura of the Sand?"
Indeed, during a chaotic battlefield encounter, Akira had feigned defeat to give Uchiha Kawa a moment to shine. But once the dust settled, Pakura had been left gravely wounded, and Akira remained unscathed. Word of that scene had spread like wildfire.
Pakura, a long-renowned elite Jonin, had made a name for herself across all five great nations. For Akira to have bested her—at his age—was unthinkable. Yet the rumors solidified, and his reputation soared. Even in the Land of Rice Fields, where ninja presence was rare, the name "Konoha Lightning" echoed with awe.
The envoy was overwhelmed. His carefully prepared arguments for requesting more manpower faded into irrelevance. He had been instructed by the Land of Rice Fields Daimyo to negotiate for more support from Konoha, given their limited budget and escalating crisis. But now, knowing who had been sent, he felt a spark of relief.
He reasoned that even if this small team couldn't handle the problem, he could explain to the Daimyo that hiring a renowned figure like Akira had already pushed their resources to the limit. If they needed reinforcements later, that would be a separate matter.
To avoid delaying the mission, the team from Konoha traveled ahead, leaving the envoy behind. A few days later, Akira and his team reached the Land of Rice Fields and met with the Daimyo himself.
The Daimyo received the mission documents, verifying the identities of the team members. His brows furrowed slightly upon seeing three children among them.
He muttered under his breath, clearly displeased. "What was Suzuki thinking? This is the team Konoha sent us? Just four people—and three of them look like they should still be in the Academy."
But when he heard the name Akira, his demeanor changed.
"Uchiha Akira? The Konoha Lightning?"
He studied the boy more carefully now, eyes filled with new interest—but concern still lingered. "There are dozens of rogue ninjas threatening our villages. Isn't four people too few? Should I dispatch a team of samurai to support you?"
Akira's eyes sparkled with confidence as he stepped forward.
"Please, my lord, rest assured. Konoha is the strongest ninja village in the world. Our training ensures that each of us can face ten enemies alone. Uncle Kosuke and I are both Jonin-level fighters. Even if we were outnumbered ten to one, we could handle it. A handful of rogue ninjas won't be a problem."
The Daimyo looked at Akira with awe. "Since Konoha Lightning himself says so, I will trust you. Still... what if these attackers aren't just wandering rogues? What if this is a precursor to an invasion from the Land of Hot Water?"
Akira's tone turned serious, but remained calm. "That's precisely what we're here to investigate. And don't worry—Hokage-sama made it clear before we departed: if we confirm that the Land of Hot Water intends to invade, Konoha will not sit idly by. We will stand with you."
Privately, Akira had his doubts. With his keen insight into global affairs, he found it unlikely that the Land of Hot Water—traditionally pacifist—would initiate war. Their economy thrived on tourism and peaceful relations, especially following the last great war. An unprovoked attack on the agricultural Land of Rice Fields didn't align with their national strategy.
Yet the Daimyo remained uneasy. He recalled the fall of the Land of Whirlpools, whose close alliance with Konoha hadn't saved it from destruction. He knew that even the strongest friendships could be tested during times of war.
Still, he said nothing of this aloud.
Instead, he gave a slow, respectful nod. "Very well. I will trust in Konoha's strength. You will have our full cooperation. If there is anything you or your team need, do not hesitate to ask."
And with that, the mission to uncover the truth behind the attacks in the Land of Rice Fields began—with Konoha Lightning leading the charge.
"By the way, my lord," Akira said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of intent, "I heard that a samurai survived the ambush. I would like to meet him. There are questions I need answered."
The Daimyo of the Land of Rice Fields looked up from the mission report and nodded. "Of course. I was planning to introduce you all anyway. However, the man, Kimura, is in critical condition. His wounds are severe. Moving is not an option for him."
"Then it's no trouble. I am a trained medical ninja," Akira replied with a small, reassuring smile. "Perhaps I can help with his recovery while we speak."
Relieved, the Daimyo gestured for them to follow. Together with Akira and his team, including the ever-serious Anko and Might Guy, the party made its way to the quiet medical quarters nestled within the Daimyo's estate. The air inside was thick with antiseptic and unease.
Lying atop a futon in a sun-dappled chamber was Kimura—his entire body swathed in blood-stained bandages, eyes half-lidded in a fevered haze. He stared blankly at the wooden ceiling, thoughts obviously distant, haunted.
Upon hearing the Daimyo's voice, Kimura struggled upright, groaning as pain surged through him.
"Stay still," the Daimyo said quickly, stepping forward to stop him. "Kimura, these are Konoha ninjas. This young man is Uchiha Akira. He's a medical ninja and the leader of the squad. He will help you, and he has some questions."
Kimura's swollen eyes turned to Akira, and he gave the faintest nod. "Thank you for coming," he rasped.
Akira stepped forward, kneeling beside the wounded samurai with silent precision. As he unwrapped the blood-soaked bandages, his teammates observed with stoic calm—they had seen this before, countless times. The Daimyo and the court physicians, however, gasped at the rawness of Kimura's wounds.
Akira's hands began to glow with a soft green chakra. As he moved them gently over Kimura's chest and arms, the broken skin began to knit itself back together. Moans of pain escaped Kimura's lips, but Akira remained composed, working swiftly.
Among the many injuries, some appeared to be deep slashes—sword wounds. Others were punctures consistent with kunai. But it was the charring on Kimura's back that caught Akira's attention. Large, blackened patches, most likely from a Fire or Lightning Release technique.
Neither was surprising—the Land of Hot Water bordered both the Land of Fire and the Land of Lightning. Their rogue ninjas often trained in similar arts.
Minutes passed, and the healing was complete. Kimura sat up, touching his side in disbelief. "It doesn't hurt anymore," he whispered. "It's... healed. All of it."
"It was my duty," Akira said gently. "Now please, I need to know—what happened that day? What ninjutsu did the enemy use?"
Kimura looked down, the weight of memory pressing on him. "We... we started with swords. At first, we thought they were just skilled warriors. Their movements were quick, efficient. No wasted strikes. But their style wasn't like samurai swordsmanship. It felt... foreign."
He paused, swallowing hard.
"Then one of them raised his hand, and lightning burst from his palm. It crackled through the air. In that moment, we knew—they were ninjas."
Kimura's fists clenched. "We tried to retreat. But the terrain suddenly shifted. I don't know how, but the land itself betrayed us—they changed it, boxed us in. They surrounded us, like they had anticipated our escape route."
He looked at Akira, guilt etched deep in his face. "My men... they held the line so I could flee. I lived because of them."
Akira gave him a moment to collect himself. Then he asked, "Were you able to see any specific jutsu? Any hand signs? Names?"
Kimura shook his head. "I'm sorry. I grew up here. I've never seen a ninja in action before. I... I don't know how to describe it."
Akira sighed quietly. It was what he expected. A civilian or even a trained samurai wouldn't recognize chakra nature manipulations or distinguish a jutsu unless they had formal shinobi knowledge.
He nodded, offering reassurance. "You've been helpful. One more thing—do you know the exact location of the ambush?"
Kimura's expression shifted. "I can't describe the spot in detail. But if I went there, I'm confident I could find it again." He suddenly bowed deeply. "Please, Lord Akira. Let me come with you. I must find that place. I must see it with my own eyes."
Akira looked at him, then to the Daimyo. "Your thoughts, my lord?"
The Daimyo gave a solemn nod. "Let him go. His companions were like family. Even if he cannot fight, witnessing justice will bring him peace."
Akira agreed. "Very well. But stay close to me."
With Kimura in tow, the group departed. The road to the border was rough, but Akira and his team moved swiftly. Kimura, newly healed, struggled but refused to lag behind. Gritting his teeth, he kept pace.
Impressed, Akira slowed his stride slightly. He respected resolve like that.
"These ninjas," Akira said during their travel. "They hit multiple villages. Do we have any estimates on casualties?"
Kimura answered quickly, "That's the strange part. Despite plundering villages, they left most civilians alive. Only property was taken. The killings happened when we tried to resist."
He glanced down, brows knit with confusion.
"It made us lower our guard," he said bitterly. "We thought they weren't cold-blooded. But when they fought us... they were merciless."
Akira's eyes narrowed. That detail was important. It meant the enemy had a purpose beyond destruction. It wasn't random violence. They were targeting something. Resources, maybe. Or... perhaps a deeper strategy.
He would find out soon enough.