The eastern reaches of the Land of Earth, stretching along the border between Iwagakure and Takigakure—the Village Hidden in the Waterfall—were a tangled expanse of dense forests pierced by small plains. To a wandering soul, it might've seemed peaceful—quiet even. But beneath the canopy and among the grasslands, this land whispered of blood and steel. The smaller hidden villages scattered between Kumogakure and Iwa had long become battlegrounds—tools in a proxy war few dared to name aloud.
Kumo's ninja had infiltrated deep into Iwa's territory, threading through the land like venom through veins. Yet, even while penetrating enemy lines, they were forced to maintain their grip on the smaller hidden villages. Iwa refused to give an inch. Every Kumo operative who entered was hunted ruthlessly—tracked by sensory-nin and crushed under Iwa's doctrine of unyielding resistance.
The Land of Earth was vast and mountainous, its unforgiving terrain making travel a slow and grueling ordeal. But after nearly a week of pushing through rocky passes and shadowed trails, two Iwa ninja arrived at the Eastern Command Base—positioned just kilometers from the Waterfall border.
Azora and Yusu stood at the threshold of the base, cloaked in mud-stained flak jackets, their faces hard from the road. Without delay, they marched into the command center. Time was precious. War did not wait.
"We come with orders from the Tsuchikage," Azora declared. Her voice was calm but carried authority. "From this moment forward, I am the new Commander of all Iwa forces stationed along the eastern front."
The current commander—a grizzled jonin with decades of service—grimaced. His jaw clenched, but he knew better than to speak against the Tsuchikage's will. Orders from Arano, the Second Tsuchikage, were absolute.
Without pause, Azora summoned the highest-ranking jonin and captains into a war council. The stone walls echoed with the weight of her new directives.
"We split our forces," she said, her fingers tracing positions on a large terrain map. "Half of the jonin will root out Kumo saboteurs disrupting our infrastructure. The rest will push into the smaller nations. We'll secure footholds and cut off Kumo's supply lines."
Each jonin would lead teams of two to four genin or chunin, creating agile strike squads. The goal wasn't brute force—it was control, adaptability, and reach. Azora's strategy turned Iwa's disadvantage—spread-out forces—into strength.
"Smaller units mean less strain on supply chains," she explained. "Teams can source food locally, blend in, and move quickly. The enemy won't see us coming."
Within ten days, her plan had taken form. The base buzzed with motion. Ninja streamed in and out, formations dispatched to forests, villages, and borderlands. Azora, now burdened by command, could no longer take the field herself unless the situation became dire. Her world had shrunk to war maps and scrolls, to reports and sleepless nights.
So this is the price of leadership… she mused quietly, while playing with her hair.
Her moment of thought was broken as Yusu burst into the room, a chaotic stack of mission reports and logistics scrolls in hand. His grin was too wide to be innocent.
"Here's everything you need to deal with today," he said teasingly, dropping the pile on her desk like a stone.
Azora glanced up with a sly smile. "Wait."
Yusu blinked.
"Congratulations," she said. "You've just been promoted to Second Commander."
His face paled. "What…?"
"Which means," she continued, sliding the papers toward him, "you now have the authority to help me handle these reports. Enjoy your promotion."
Yusu stood frozen. He had just been completely outmaneuvered. The smile drained from his face as he slumped into the chair beside her.
"…Okay. Let's get started," he muttered, defeated.
The Next Day – Eastern Command Meeting Hall
Another day, another war council. Azora stood at the head of the table, flanked by senior jonin and field captains. Yusu sat to her left, dark circles under his eyes betraying his lack of sleep—but still alert, still present. This was the life of an elite shinobi.
The reports were promising.
"Twenty-three Kumo operatives eliminated in one week," one jonin reported. "Minimal casualties on our side."
"And the smaller nations?" Azora asked.
"We've identified and dismantled two hidden Kumo bases. Their presence is weakening."
The table nodded, satisfied. The operation was working.
Then came the question that simmered just beneath the surface:
"Should we consider launching a full invasion of Kumo?" one of the younger captains asked.
Azora's eyes narrowed. Her voice was firm.
"No."
The room fell silent.
"I know how the Tsuchikage wants this war fought," she said. "Charging thousands of shinobi into the Lightning border would be a waste of strength. We're not ready, and that isn't our mission. We weaken Kumo here. We bleed them, bit by bit. The real war—when it comes—will be with Konoha."
There was no argument. Azora's word carried the weight of Arano himself.
Meanwhile, in the Land of Lightning – Kumogakure
A deafening crash echoed through the Raikage's war chamber. His massive fist had shattered the thick oak table in one blow.
"How are we losing to these weak Iwa scum?!" he roared, veins bulging on his forehead.
His son—A, the future Raikage—stood at his side but remained silent. There was no excuse. The losses were real.
The Raikage's anger slowly simmered into bitter frustration.
"Our push against Konoha is stalling. Kirigakure's agents are sabotaging our borders. And now Iwa is gutting us from the east. Our forces are stretched thin."
He turned to his son, eyes burning.
"We must act, A. If we do nothing, we'll lose momentum on all fronts."
A scratched his head, giving a lazy grin. "Yeah, yeah. We'll follow your plan. Just… maybe yell a little less, old man. You're scaring the staff."
The Raikage's eyebrow twitched. But he said nothing more—for now.