Naruto: The White Spider of the Leaf

The flickering candlelight in the inn's common room barely illuminated the edges of the wooden table we sat around, its rough surface scarred from years of use. Outside, the wind whistled through the trees, the night air thick with moisture. Inside, it was warm, but the tension felt thick enough to cut. I couldn't shake the sense that everything was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Jiraiya leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. He'd been quiet for a while. 

"Alright," Jiraiya finally broke the silence, his voice low but steady, "here's what we'll do." He looked around at the group, his eyes lingering on each of us as if measuring our reactions. "We've learned a lot today, but it's not enough. We need more intel. I'm thinking we trail those shinobi and see where they're headed, who they meet with, what they know. There's no doubt they're up to something—and if we can get more details on the situation around the Rain's borders, we might be able to piece together a larger portion of the full picture."

He paused, glancing at Minato, then at Yukino and me. "I'll stick with Yukino. Her Byakugan will be invaluable for keeping an eye on things. You two"—he looked at Minato and me—"will deliver all the information we gathered until now to the Leaf's outpost in the Rain's territory. I've written it all down in this scroll. We've got to get word out before whatever they're planning comes—and fast."

My stomach churned at the idea of travelling to the Leaf's outpost with just me and Minato. The Rain Territory was no joke, and even though we weren't at war yet, the tension felt like it was pulling everything toward a breaking point. If we got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, things would go south quickly. But the message we carried was important. Too important not to act on.

Minato's sharp eyes darted toward Jiraiya, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "You're sure about splitting up?" His voice was quiet but firm, like it always was when he was asking something serious. Minato always wanted to be sure.

Jiraiya didn't hesitate. "It's the only way. We can't let our presence be known yet and we need to keep getting more intel. But more importantly, we need to make sure the current intel we have gathered gets delivered as quickly as possible to the Leaf. Time's running out. We have today and tomorrow, the Rain will probably be attacking the day after."

Yukino, sitting next to Jiraiya, nodded but said nothing. She wasn't as vocal as the rest of us this time, but I knew she understood the gravity of the situation. I'm sure she had her own thoughts on the matter.

My eyes drifted to the map spread across the table, the lines marking the borders between the Rain, Leaf, Sand, and the Rock. I wasn't one to get bogged down in the politics of it all, but even I knew that an attack like the one they were planning could shift the entire balance of power in the region. If the Leaf showed weakness, it's highly likely that the Sand and Rock might lock in on that and organize their own assaults on us next too. We couldn't let that happen.

Jiraiya looked directly at me, his eyes serious as he handed me the scroll. "Make sure this message gets delivered. If we wait too long, the Leaf might be caught off guard when the attack hits. Not to mention, we can't risk having this Hanzo fella go unchecked. I just hope whoever he is, he doesn't show up at that attack."

I could feel the weight of the decision settling on me, heavy and uncomfortable. Delivering that scroll was more than just a task. It was a responsibility—a message that could shift the balance between all the players if we screwed this up.

Minato and I exchanged a glance, both of us understanding what needed to be done. He didn't need to say anything for me to know that we were on the same page.

"Minato and Shirokumo," Jiraiya continued, "keep to the shadows. Deliver the information and keep out of sight. It's going to be dangerous, but you've both got the skills to handle it. I'm placing Minato in command. Don't get caught."

I cracked my knuckles. "You can count on us," I said with a grin, though I wasn't entirely sure how much confidence I could muster. Minato's gaze softened as he looked at me, as if silently acknowledging the weight of the mission.

Jiraiya pushed himself up from his chair, his expression hardening. "Good. Let's move out now under the cover of night."

"Before that." I raised my hand. "Let me leave a shadow clone with you two, that way you can let me know if anything else happens, especially if more information shows up."

"Good idea, Shiro!" Yukino beamed.

I quickly formed the hand sign, the familiar sensation of chakra flowing through my fingers as I molded it into form. The air shimmered faintly before a puff of smoke erupted and a perfect copy of myself appeared beside me. My shadow clone straightened up, cracking its neck with an exaggerated motion like it was testing its new limbs. I couldn't help but smirk. No matter how many times I performed the jutsu, seeing another version of myself was always a little surreal.

"Alright, you're with Jiraiya and Yukino," I told the clone. "Anything big happens, you let me know immediately." The clone nodded in understanding, its face serious. It wouldn't last forever, but for as long as it remained, it was another set of eyes and ears where we couldn't be.

"Alright then," Jiraiya said, his tone firm and final. "We stick to the plan. Yukino and I will follow the Rain shinobi, and you two will head to the Leaf's outpost. Stay sharp, stay hidden, and deliver the message. We're counting on you."

Minato and I nodded. 

"Be careful you two," Yukino said as she looked from Minato to me. She then hugged me. "Shiro, we'll meet at the outpost, okay? Both successful."

I hugged her back and smiled, almost chuckling. "Of course, Yuki. You'll just need to wait to hear the good news."

"Yeah."

She let go and gave me one last smile before turning to leave with our sensei. 

As Jiraiya and Yukino moved toward the door, my clone followed, sparing me a brief glance that felt almost like a salute.

I turned to Minato, a grin tugging at my lips despite the tension. "Well, looks like it's just you and me now."

"Let's not waste any time," Minato said, already heading for the window we'd planned to use for a stealthy exit. His movements were precise, efficient—like a kunai flying through the air, always on target.

The cool night air whipped past us as we darted across the rooftops, our footfalls muffled by the rain-soaked wood and thatched tiles. Minato moved like a shadow, his steps light and precise, while I kept pace behind him, my heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and anticipation. The faint glow of the city's lanterns grew smaller with each leap, the flickering lights swallowed by the dense mist that crept in from the wetlands beyond.

"Stick close," Minato said, glancing back briefly, his sharp blue eyes scanning our surroundings for any sign of movement. "If we're seen, we'll have to move faster than I'd like."

"No need to worry about me, Blondie," I replied with a smirk, vaulting over a narrow alley and landing with a soft thud beside him. "I can handle a little rain and mud."

Minato shook his head, though a faint smile played on his lips. "You always talk like that before things go south."

"Hey, it's called optimism," I shot back, but the truth was, I was as tense as he was. The Rain Country wasn't exactly forgiving terrain, and with every step we took, I felt the weight of the mission pressing down harder.

As we reached the edge of the city, the rooftops gave way to the uneven, muddy expanse of the wetlands. The transition was abrupt, like stepping out of civilization and into the wilderness. The faint outlines of gnarled trees rose from the mist, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. Pools of stagnant water glimmered faintly under the moonlight, and the croaking of frogs and distant chirping of insects filled the air.

"The outpost isn't far," I said, my voice low as we dropped to the ground and began moving through the muck. "If we keep this pace, we'll hit the edge of the Rain's border by sunrise. From there, the Leaf's outpost is maybe another two hours."

"Good," Minato replied, his tone calm but focused. "The sooner we're out of the Rain's heartlands, the better."

We pressed on in silence for a while, the squelching of our feet against the muddy ground blending with the natural sounds of the wetlands. Every now and then, I'd catch a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye—a bird taking flight, the ripple of water disturbed by something unseen—but nothing out of the ordinary. Still, my instincts stayed on high alert.

"So," Minato said after a while, his voice cutting through the quiet. "What's your take on all this? That Hanzo guy, the great nations closing in on all the Rain's borders, the attack on our outpost…"

I hesitated, leaping over a fallen log and landing lightly on the other side. "It's bad," I admitted. "Worse than bad, really. The way things are going, there will be a war. Not a small one either. What sucks is that we're bound to play a huge role in it, which certainly isn't something I'm looking forward to."

Minato nodded, his expression grim. "War isn't something anyone wants, but it feels inevitable."

"Yeah," I muttered, my mind drifting to the map we'd studied back in the inn. The Rain was a critical choke point—whoever controlled it could dictate the flow of troops and supplies between the major nations. Hanzo will be doing everything in his power to prevent the other three great nations from obtaining his country, and in turn we'll have a four way endless bloodshed.

How will we survive that?

Make-belief might help.

"Still," I added after a pause, "it's not like we haven't been through bad things before. Look, things will go smoothly. We'll deliver the message, the higher-ups will plan their counter, and we'll all be back home before you know it."

"You really believe that?" Minato asked, grinning.

"Not a damn bit," I replied with a chuckle. "But it's nice to pretend sometimes, isn't it?"

Minato smiled faintly but said nothing. His eyes stayed forward, scanning the terrain ahead. Despite his calm demeanor, I could tell his mind was racing, calculating every possibility, every risk. That was Minato for you—always thinking ten steps ahead.

The wetlands grew denser as we continued, the air heavy with moisture and the scent of damp earth. I could feel the chakra in my body tingling faintly, ready to spring into action at the first sign of trouble. The path ahead was faint, barely visible under the mist, but I knew we were on the right track. I'd made this journey before, though never under circumstances this dire.

… 

Time passed and our running made progress. 

"We're making good time," I said, glancing at the horizon where the first faint hints of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky. "If we keep this up, we'll be at the outpost by mid-morning."

Minato nodded but didn't reply. His attention was focused on something up ahead—a faint rustling in the tall reeds that bordered the path. I followed his gaze, my hand instinctively moving to the kunai holstered at my side.

"Stay low," he whispered, dropping into a crouch.

I mirrored his movements, my heart pounding. Whatever was waiting for us in those reeds, I had a feeling it wasn't just a curious animal.

The rustling in the reeds was faint but unmistakable, and Minato and I moved as one. Without exchanging a word, we launched kunai and shuriken toward the source, the sharp whistling of the weapons slicing through the humid night air. A satisfying thunk told me they had hit their mark—but something wasn't right. Instead of the expected cry of pain or the clatter of metal on armor, the only sound was wood splintering.

"What—" I barely had time to process the thought before Minato shouted, "Move!"

…