The battlefield had not been fully cleared. Several bodies of fallen Sunagakure shinobi remained scattered across the sand, a grim reminder of the clash. A few ninja from other teams had stopped briefly to collect supplies, then quickly moved on. As for the soldier pills? Saitama, acting with caution, avoided touching anything left by the enemy. Better safe than sorry.
Moonlight Masano's injuries were relatively minor and didn't impede their mobility. Before nightfall, the team reached a small oasis.
"Sagi, you two stay here. I'll scout ahead," Saitama whispered, glancing at Masano—still not fully recovered from chakra exhaustion—and at Sagi, who was helping him walk.
Saitama's chakra reserves had recovered to around 70% capacity, and his minor wounds had already healed. Since he was in the best shape among them, the task of scouting naturally fell to him.
The oasis wasn't large—just a few hectares in size—but in the desert lands of the Wind Country, any water source was considered a precious strategic resource.
Using the cover of night, Saitama approached the darkened grove cautiously. His footsteps shifted in subtle, unpredictable rhythms as he weaved through the terrain like a snake, following an S-shaped path. His instincts, sharpened by countless drills, told him to remain alert—especially since two of his teammates couldn't currently fight at full strength.
Silently, Saitama moved between the trees. Unlike the towering forests of the Land of Fire, the trees here barely reached ten ters. Yet even in this harsh climate, they managed to thrive—a testant to nature's resilience.
After circling the entire oasis and confirming it was safe, he returned to rendezvous with his teammates.
"It's clear. Let's move in," he reported.
"Thanks," said Moonlight Masano with so embarrassnt. As their captain, he was being protected by a genin who had only graduated from the Academy a few months earlier.
"Let's go," Saitama said, taking the lead. During his sweep, he'd found a small shaded area with lush trees and a nearby water source—ideal for resting.
The three-man team spent two days recuperating in the oasis. None of them had suffered serious injuries, and thanks to their natural shinobi resilience, Masano and Sagi had nearly regained their full fighting strength.
"We've rested long enough. It's ti to resu the mission," Masano said, leaning against a tree.
Sagi was carefully wiping down his blade, while Saitama sat cross-legged on a sandstone slab, his sword resting across his lap.
"We've used up half our mission ti—ten days total, and we're on day five," Saitama said. "Now that the captain's recovered, it's ti to move again. Sand shinobi are still patrolling, but none have detected us so far. They can't spare many troops from the front lines."
"My bones are getting stiff," Masano joked, stretching with a grunt. "Let's go stir things up and finish our objective."
---
"Matthew was killed... just like that? Konoha's shinobi are that dangerous?" In a dimly lit council chamber deep within Sunagakure, several high-ranking elders conferred in hushed tones.
"They've struck right in our territory," one elder said grimly, tapping the table for emphasis.
"Judging by the scene, the attacker used Lightning Release. The damage doesn't match any known Konoha shinobi," added a younger strategist, perhaps in his forties. His tone was somber.
"We need to find them—and ensure they never leave this desert alive," an older kunoichi said coldly.
"No one invades Sunagakure's lands and escapes unscathed," the strategist declared, standing abruptly and leaving behind the shadowy figures of the village council.
---
"How many is that now?" Moonlight Masano asked, wiping blood from his blade. Nearby, Saitama stood over the body of a fallen Suna-nin.
"That's the third team today," Sagi replied, sheathing his weapon with a grin, blood streaked across his cheek. "Seems Sunagakure's had enough of us and is trying to surround us."
In the last few days, Sagi had clearly grown stronger. He could now handle mid-level chūnin on his own—a testant to how the battlefield forged true strength in the crucible of life and death.
It was the fourth day since they'd left the oasis. Today, they planned to return to Konoha.
In that ti, Saitama's team had disrupted Sunagakure's rear lines, using superior mobility and combat prowess. The chaos they sowed forced the enemy to spread their forces thin in an attempt to catch them.
But despite the manhunt, few teams had the power to actually stop them. With two jōnin-level fighters and a competent chūnin in Sagi, they were a formidable trio.
"We need to pull out," Masano said seriously. "If we delay any longer, Suna might send main force units from the front to hunt us."
"Agreed. It's ti to retreat and report back," Saitama said. Staying behind enemy lines any longer would be a mistake.
"We'll retrace our steps—stay alert," Masano instructed.
Sagi didn't argue. As the junior mber of the squad, he simply followed the orders of the two veterans.
The wind whipped up waves of sand as they moved. The oppressive desert heat forced sweat from their bodies even before they began running.
"That's the dune we crossed when we ca in," Sagi said, pointing ahead. "If we keep going, we'll be past their patrol zones."
"Stay sharp," Masano warned, noticing Sagi's relaxed posture. He then glanced at Saitama, who was tense and alert.
"Wait," Saitama said suddenly, raising a hand to halt them.
Both teammates stopped imdiately. Saitama's eyes narrowed.
"I sense chakra ahead... I hope I'm wrong," he said grimly.
"Could it be a routine patrol?" Sagi offered, trying to stay optimistic.
Masano said nothing. His trust in Saitama ran deep, and his gut told him sothing was off.
"Advance with stealth," Masano ordered, nodding toward a sand dune up ahead. "They're uphill. We won't see them until it's too late."
"Got it," Saitama replied, hand near his weapon. He was preparing for the worst.
The sun dipped lower—twilight crept across the sand. A perfect ti for retreat... or an ambush.
Suddenly—thunk—a kunai embedded itself in the sand near Masano's feet.
All three drew weapons and dropped into defensive stances.
"Konoha shinobi," a cold voice called out. "You ca here... but you're not leaving. Die in the desert."
Several figures erged atop the dune, silhouettes shadowed by the setting sun. Saitama's chakra sense confird—these weren't amateurs.
"Break through!" Masano barked. "Saitama, take point. Sagi, follow behind !"
Saitama nodded, gripping his blade tighter. He was the fastest—he'd tear open their formation.
"I'm going!" he called out. Lightning flared around him—Lightning Release Chakra Mode—and he dashed forward in a blur of speed.
"The Thunder one from the intel?" the Suna-nin commander muttered. "He's just a kid..."
"Doesn't matter. Alive or dead, that one stays here," hissed a kunoichi on the left, eyes narrowing at the crackling chakra racing toward them.
"I'll handle him," said Fujiwara, leaping from the dune. The rest followed, spreading to intercept the Konoha team.
"Fire Style: Phoenix Fire Claw Crimson!" Saitama roared. Dozens of small fla bullets erupted from his mouth—each enhanced by spinning shuriken. The flaming barrage shot forward like a storm.
"Scatter!" Fujiwara barked. He dove aside. Two of his subordinates weren't quick enough—engulfed by fla and steel, they scread as fire licked their skin and the shuriken ripped into flesh.
Even as the first clash took down enemies, Saitama didn't stop. He surged forward, eyes sharp. Behind him, Masano and Sagi prepared to break through the weakened line.
Now it was a fight not just to win—but to survive.
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