Born To Rise In Konoha

If the enemy had crossed the border defenses from the Land of Bears, it would have been impossible for them to go unnoticed. Saitama suspected that some had taken a longer, more discreet water route—crossing directly from the sea. After all, the coastline was vast and much harder to guard.

However, by choosing the water route, the Kurinins would have lost direct supply lines and support. It was a one-way mission. There was no turning back—only forward. That was why Saitama had to investigate.

---

After parting ways with Uchiha Kaka, Saitama advanced slowly on his own.

He remained on high alert, keeping his chakra suppressed. His movements relied purely on physical strength.

Though he was near the Land of Bears, he had turned toward the coastline.

Not far from there lay the ruins of a once-thriving island nation: the Land of Whirlpools. Long ago, it had been destroyed.

Since its fall, no country had claimed its territory. The island was remote, barren, and difficult to govern—the cost of occupation outweighed any potential gain.

If any country could have made use of it, Saitama could think of only one: the Land of Water.

Was it possible that Kirigakure had used the ruins of the Uzumaki Clan's homeland as a springboard to breach the Land of Fire?

After all, Konoha's coastal defenses were weak. The island itself wasn't heavily fortified. Although it wasn't the most strategic choice for a direct invasion, the shinobi of Kirigakure were notorious for unpredictable, high-risk tactics. Could it be that they truly planned to circle through the Land of Whirlpools?

Soon, Saitama spotted the open ocean stretching before him.

He hadn't moved toward the Land of Bears, but instead followed the coastline—searching for signs to confirm his suspicions.

Boom!

A sudden explosion echoed ahead. Saitama dropped instantly to the ground, eyes scanning the distance.

"What was that?" he muttered, his right hand gripping the hilt of his blade, his left bracing against the earth.

But after several tense moments, the world fell silent again. It was as if the noise had been a hallucination.

"I should either pull back or go deeper. Something's off here." Saitama decided to press on.

Keeping low, he crept forward using the dry, overgrown brush as cover. The area was wild, seldom traveled. Yellowed shrubs, waist-high in some places, concealed his movements.

Every step was measured. Traps were always a risk in enemy territory. A ninja's life depended on caution.

"Polygala! Be careful, you're too clumsy!"

An unfamiliar voice suddenly rang out, freezing Saitama in place.

"I know! You're not even helping! This thing weighs a ton, and you still have the nerve to complain!"

Another voice responded—tired and irritated, with a clear note of resentment.

"Enough whining. A proper ninja overcomes small hardships. Keep up. Don't fall behind!"

Through a gap in the brush, Saitama spotted the speakers: two figures. One walked normally, while the other appeared to be hidden beneath a massive bundle of stacked wooden logs—most likely a makeshift disguise.

"What's going on here?" Saitama remained hidden. They looked like low-level grunts—cannon fodder, not elites.

"I get it, I get it! Just stop rushing me!" the second voice protested again.

"We haven't eaten all day. It's already afternoon. Not even a sip of water!"

"I know! Just help me from behind. I seriously can't carry this anymore!"

"Fine, let's just get this over with and head back."

…

Saitama frowned and followed at a distance. His suppressed chakra made him nearly undetectable—especially to amateurs like these.

Let's see what they're up to.

The pair eventually led him to a small inlet where land met sea. Hidden in a natural cove, a makeshift dock was under construction.

From his vantage behind the brush, Saitama studied the site—half-built piers, scattered crates, and crude tents.

Kiri really does plan to land directly... So they're not going through the Land of Bears after all.

He narrowed his eyes, scanning the shinobi patrolling the site. None wore the Mist Village insignia.

These must be hired locals... perhaps from the Land of Bears?

The defenses were weak. Saitama had closed the distance with ease—no one had even noticed.

Should I fall back and report... or dig deeper?

He made his decision.

No. I'll grab someone and interrogate them first.

His gaze settled on a campsite tucked behind the construction area. Simple tents, patched with makeshift repairs. The whole place looked like a slum compared to a proper Konoha outpost.

Without a sound, Saitama slipped down a hillside and crept around to the rear of the camp.

Drawing a kunai, he sliced open one of the tents and slipped inside.

Tch.

A sour stench hit him instantly—stale sweat, mildew, and damp cloth. The scent reminded him of working part-time construction in his previous life.

The cramped space was filled with low cots, packed wall to wall. Empty. No one was inside.

Footsteps.

He froze.

They were approaching—soft, uneven. A single person.

Saitama pressed himself into the blind spot by the flap, kunai ready.

The curtain lifted. A thin, sweat-drenched young man stepped in, his face flushed from exhaustion. He wasn't a shinobi—no headband, no chakra signature.

The man didn't notice Saitama at all. He trudged inside and immediately headed for a cot.

Then he saw it—the slit in the tent wall.

"What the hell? Who cut this?!" he growled.

Saitama moved in a flash.

Zzzt—!

His hand touched the man's neck, discharging a sharp jolt of lightning chakra. The man twitched violently, paralyzed, his mouth opening wordlessly.

"Don't scream. Or I'll kill you." Saitama's voice was low and calm. "You're not a shinobi, so don't try anything stupid. Understand?"

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