Throne Of The Uchiha

Warehouse Raid"

There was a narrow forked road leading from the logistics department to the central supply warehouse. At the end of this road stood a cluster of beige canvas tents — temporary rest areas set up for Sand Village shinobi to use when collecting or delivering supplies.

For a high-speed elite jonin, it would take less than a minute to sprint from the rest area to the warehouse.

That gave Uchiha Fugaku and his six-man Konoha infiltration team no more than sixty seconds to sabotage the supplies — or risk being overwhelmed if reinforcements were alerted.

The sky had darkened ominously. Heavy rain hammered down, concealing movement and muffling sound — a rare blessing from Amegakure's relentless climate.

Qiuze Ohno handed Fugaku several kunai with specially-prepared detonating tags. A few flickers of movement — kunai arced out into the darkness, vanishing into the soaked earth without a trace.

Ohno had applied a silent concealment seal to each tag, masking their chakra signature and muting the slightest hint of volatile chakra. Once embedded into the muddy path, a simple pressure trigger would activate the tags upon contact, ensuring that any reinforcements would be caught off guard.

This forked road was the only route between the rest tents and the warehouse. The tags wouldn't need to kill — just delay the enemy long enough.

The warehouse itself was a massive tent reinforced with chakra-treated wood, divided internally into multiple smaller sections. Outside, three guards — one jonin and two chunin — stood on rotation, dressed in standard Suna battle cloaks and forehead protectors.

As the curtain parted, Fugaku and his companions stepped inside, now disguised as Sand shinobi using a combination of Transformation Jutsu and subtle chakra-suppression techniques.

"Kurosaga, Fukagi — you're finally here," the guard jonin greeted them casually. "Kurosawa has you on logistics duty today, huh? Tough break."

Through prior intel and careful observation, Fugaku and his team already had dossiers memorized:

Ishida, senior jonin of Sunagakure. Adept in Water and Earth Release. In the rain-drenched lands of Ame, his water-style ninjutsu could be especially lethal. A keen-eyed and experienced shinobi.

Tombura, wind-style user, cautious and meticulous — not prone to reckless action.

Mitsui, fire-style specialist, with a brash temper and a tendency to overlook protocol.

Fugaku returned a respectful smile. "It's the frontlines — we all take our turn. Besides, Kurosawa wouldn't risk making enemies here. Even if he wanted to cause trouble, the Suna command would have his head."

Ishida nodded, visibly amused. That much was true. During wartime, any internal sabotage or harassment among units was considered potential treason. Kurosawa might be arrogant, but he wasn't suicidal.

Fugaku handed over a fabricated requisition scroll. "Last time we came through, Noda mentioned supplies were running low. Hopefully there's something left."

"Of course," Ishida replied warmly. "Fresh shipment came in this morning. The kunai are straight from the Land of Craftsmen. Not the rusted junk we had last month."

He examined the scroll, then passed it to his subordinates. "Mitsui, Tombura — go fetch the list. Kurosaga, Fukagi — hang tight."

While the others made small talk, Fugaku watched Ishida's eyes. His three-tomoe Sharingan carefully tracked even the tiniest twitch.

Then he saw it — a momentary contraction of Ishida's pupils. Sharp. Subtle. Almost imperceptible. Ishida had sensed something wrong. And his gaze lingered too long on the disguised chunin.

Time had run out.

Fugaku gave a subtle hand signal. Every team member immediately understood: we've been compromised.

"Ishida," Fugaku said quietly.

The jonin turned instinctively — and met Fugaku's eyes. The moment their gazes locked, Ishida was caught in the swirling vortex of Sharingan Genjutsu. The tomoe rotated wildly as the illusion took hold.

In that frozen second, five kunai pierced Ishida's chest and abdomen. The intense pain snapped him out of the genjutsu, but it was too late — blood gushed from his wounds.

With desperate strength, Ishida tried to raise a hand to signal his subordinates, but Fugaku silenced him with a final slash across the throat.

> "Kill a jonin. Medium increase in pupil power."

The system message echoed in Fugaku's mind as a rush of cool energy flowed into his eyes, sharpening his vision. His Sharingan pulsed with fresh intensity.

Ohno and Satomaru quickly dragged Ishida's body to a corner, out of view. The rain outside was a perfect cover — no one would hear the struggle.

Fugaku turned to Hinata Ning and nodded. The Hyuga jonin activated his Byakugan silently. The entire warehouse layout came into focus — chakra threads, traps, enemy positions.

"There's a detection tag at the entrance," Hinata Ning whispered. "It'll alert nearby sentries if triggered."

Fugaku's eyes narrowed. No mistakes.

Hinata Ning morphed into Ishida again and said loudly, "These two are slower than ever. I'll go check it out myself. Heisha, wait here."

He stepped through the curtain, entering the warehouse. Fugaku followed close behind.

Inside, the two chunin — Mitsui and Tombura — were sorting weapon crates. Mitsui looked up, puzzled by "Ishida's" presence.

Normally, Ishida only came in to chat, never to check inventory.

As Mitsui tensed, preparing to speak, Fugaku's eyes flashed again — the genjutsu caught him mid-thought. All suspicion evaporated. He stood dazed.

In one fluid motion, Hinata Ning used the Body Flicker Technique and reappeared behind Tombura. A kunai slash to the throat dropped him silently. Blood splattered across a shelf of sealed ration pills.

With both chunin down, Fugaku took stock of the warehouse.

The nearest section contained polished kunai and shuriken, their edges gleaming even under dim light.

In the next section: puppet joints and chakra threads — likely meant for Suna's puppet brigade.

In the far corner: crates of ration pills and bags of processed grain for long-term sustenance. Fugaku knew genin couldn't subsist on pills alone for extended missions — this was vital logistical stock.

One final storage area remained — sealed with a complex tag array.

Fugaku stepped closer, his Sharingan analyzing the script. These were explosive seals, likely storing detonating tags, poisons, or chakra cores for puppets.