Moonlight Masano and Sagi approached Saitama's unconscious body. Masano knelt, propped him up gently, and checked his closed eyes in silence.
"Let's move. Time's tight," said Sagi firmly, his expression unreadable as he supported one person on each shoulder and headed toward the nearby dunes.
Just ahead, in the direction the Sand Ninja had retreated, a figure lay prone in the sand. Eyes sharp with suspicion watched the slowly advancing Konoha shinobi. As the figure shifted, a Sand Village forehead protector came into view.
Burdened as they were, Moonlight Masano's pace was inevitably slow.
After about thirty minutes of cautious travel, the team approached the edge of Sand territory. It was strangely quiet—no pursuit, no ambush. That alone unsettled Masano. Given how close they were to enemy encampments, those Sand-nin who escaped earlier should have had enough time to summon reinforcements.
"Can you keep going, Samu?" Masano asked, stopping for a brief rest. He bore most of the weight himself, and conserving chakra was critical if they were to remain combat-ready.
"I'm okay, sensei." Samu released Masano's support, standing on his own.
"I'll walk. You focus on carrying Saitama."
"Alright. Stay close," Masano said without hesitation. Though Samu was injured, he had little choice but to push forward.
Masano's focus returned to Saitama. He felt a faint twitch in the boy's body—he might be regaining consciousness.
"Let's go." He shifted Saitama's weight, cradling him more securely, and resumed moving forward.
Their figures darted across the sands, shadows vanishing into the cover of night.
As they moved, the cold desert wind hit Saitama's face, and the jolting motion began to stir his consciousness.
"Khak—!" A mouthful of blood escaped Saitama's lips as he suddenly came to.
"Saitama?" Masano halted immediately. Samu staggered a few steps behind, panting and bracing himself with his knees.
"Captain, where... where are we?" Saitama asked, scanning the unfamiliar landscape.
"We're still in the Land of Wind. Almost out of enemy territory," Masano replied, gently setting him down.
"Got it." Saitama touched the charred wound on his shoulder—sealed shut by his own lightning chakra. It wasn't bleeding, but the pain throbbed deep. The more serious wound in his back had been hastily bandaged by Masano, but the bleeding hadn't stopped, soaking through his clothes.
"Get back on. We'll keep moving," Masano instructed, turning his back to Saitama. Since the boy was conscious, carrying him piggyback would ease the strain of travel.
"Samu, let's go!" Once Saitama was secure, Masano took off again, the sand whispering beneath his steps.
Saitama rested his head against Masano's shoulder, trying to keep steady to avoid aggravating his wounds. Despite the pain, his awareness was returning. However, his chakra wouldn't gather properly—the poison was still suppressing his system.
They encountered no resistance on the rest of the journey, and by dawn, they had crossed into Konoha-controlled territory.
---
Several days later, in the Konoha forward camp…
Saitama sat inside a tent, dressed in clean bandages. Across from him was a familiar figure—Uchiha Lin.
"You really know how to make an entrance," Lin said with a mix of concern and exasperation. "Two missions on the battlefield, and you've been carried back both times."
Despite his words, his expression softened. He cared about Saitama—not just because he was a member of the Uchiha escort corps, but as a talented young clansman with promise.
"This mission was rough," Saitama admitted. "My inexperience showed—I got caught off guard."
If not for the conditioning from his Lightning Release training, he wouldn't have survived the poison.
"We owe this one to Lord Orochimaru," Saitama continued. "His order to launch a diversion against the Sand gave us an opening. If not, we'd have been surrounded."
"That strategy was Nara Shikaku's idea," Lin corrected him, smiling faintly. "He coordinated the feint after your mission started. The man's a genius tactician—I've always admired how he survives the battlefield with brains instead of brute force."
Saitama nodded, shifting to sit more comfortably.
It had been three days since they returned to the camp. All members of Saitama's squad made it back safely, though only seven of their full operation group did. Four were from other teams and didn't survive. Saitama, despite expecting such losses, still felt the sting. Maybe it was because he had nearly died himself… or maybe because he was a ninja now.
"Rest a few more days. You're still healing," Lin said, his eyes scanning the bandages wrapped tightly around Saitama's torso.
"I will. This mission taught me a lot. I need time to reflect," Saitama replied, placing his hand over the hilts of his weapons—calloused from battle.
"Here." Lin pulled out a scroll and tossed it over. "Some jutsu from various clans. Study them when you're ready."
"Thanks." Saitama caught it and watched Lin leave, resolve flaring anew.
During the mission, Saitama had attempted a high-level lightning jutsu—similar to Kakashi's Chidori. His version wasn't nearly as refined: just a sphere of concentrated lightning chakra forced into existence by sheer will. But it worked—barely.
Now that he had time, he planned to refine that jutsu. The risk would have been fatal if not for his prior lightning-based body conditioning.
For now, he put the scroll aside. There was no rush.
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, pain flaring from the wound in his back.
His Sharingan—now bearing two tomoe—had awakened during the mission. His mastery of its abilities was no longer rudimentary. He could now effectively use it in combat.
Ninjutsu…
His thoughts drifted. Aside from a few basic Uchiha fire-style and rarely-used genjutsu, his main combat style remained swordsmanship. Thanks to the success of his Lightning Chakra Mode experiments, his speed and lethality had increased dramatically.
At this stage, training more ninjutsu wasn't his priority. Strengthening his Lightning Release Chakra Mode and enhancing his body came first. Developing new techniques could come later—based on memory and inspiration.
Saitama dressed and stored the scroll. It was time to leave the tent—he hadn't been outside in days.
The atmosphere in camp was tense. The recent attacks had caused heavy casualties on both sides. Saitama could feel it—the pressure of an approaching climax to the war.
He folded his bedding and stepped outside.
The camp was alive with movement. Medical tents bustled. The air was thick with anticipation. Konoha and Sunagakure were at a breaking point, both sides gathering strength for what would likely be the decisive battle.
Saitama's eyes moved across the wounded, the exhausted, the hopeful.
On this battlefield… ninja weren't heroes. They were weapons.
He turned toward the meeting point.
Because of his performance in two missions and undeniable talent, the Hokage had officially recognized him as a Chūnin—even from afar. It was wartime, and those who proved themselves were promoted fast. Others had also been recognized, but none stood out like Saitama—young, skilled, and feared.
Though he hadn't been promoted to jōnin due to the strict criteria, many believed he was already operating at that level in terms of combat effectiveness.
"Saitama, over here!" Sagi waved him down.
"Yeah," Saitama nodded with a faint smile. He wasn't being arrogant—it just felt awkward to make small talk. But Sagi was a comrade who had bled with him. That mattered.
"Congrats on your promotion," Sagi said cheerfully. "Heard you got recognized."
"Yeah, got the news a couple days ago." Saitama was still wearing his personal outfit. The issued uniform was too restrictive for his tastes.
"At this rate, you'll be promoted to jōnin in no time," Sagi joked, rubbing his head.
Saitama didn't answer, but his smirk said enough.
He was ready—for the next mission, the next battle, and whatever the war demanded of him.
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