Born To Rise In Konoha-Chapter 111

"The enemy has been wiped out. The workers have been detained as well!"

"Good. Relay the message—we’ll return to report in after cleaning up the battlefield," Saitama said flatly.

"And make sure this harbor is destroyed before we leave."

Saitama didn’t turn around. He stood at the edge of the pier, staring out across the ocean. It was midday, and sunlight glittered off the waves, scattering prismatic reflections across the surface. It was beautiful, in a strangely serene way—an ironic contrast to the destruction behind him.

---

This operation had ended in complete success. The enemy’s harbor had been demolished, their forces routed, and another of Kirigakure’s covert plans thwarted.

The frontline settled back into silence.

Kirigakure, having lost this strategic seaport in Lightning-fast fashion, chose to obscure the loss rather than escalate. There was no open retaliation, only a slow, deliberate pause as the village reconsidered its strategy.

On the border near the Land of Bears and scattered along the coastal edges of the Land of Fire, small-scale skirmishes continued. But Konoha had seized the initiative—pushing forward, striking from the shadows like sunlight breaking through morning mist.

Both sides seemed to understand: escalation was a gamble. Kirigakure’s leaders were cautious. They knew Konoha wouldn’t launch a full invasion across the sea without cause. As long as Mist didn’t provoke a war, the conflict would remain contained.

---

"Yosh!" grunted Uchiha Huo, leaning against the gnarled roots of a mangrove tree. Blood streaked his face, and a lifeless enemy ninja lay at his feet. He was panting hard, but still upright.

"Is this... war?" muttered Uchiha Yan, clutching a blood-slicked kunai. Multiple bruises and cuts marked his body, and he was bent slightly, one hand braced against his knee while the other clutched his bleeding abdomen. His eyes, tinged red with his Sharingan, darted among the corpses that littered the shore.

"This?" Saitama stood on a rocky outcrop above them. His clothes were spotless, his blade clean. "This is nothing. Real war is hundreds, thousands of shinobi clashing. What we saw today... is only a whisper."

In truth, Saitama had just slain two jōnin. But the gap in power had been so vast that it barely counted as a fight.

"Sri—Captain’s still incredible," muttered Huo, awe in his voice.

Though Saitama was younger than both brothers, he had long earned their respect. He wasn’t just a genius of the Uchiha—he was their grim standard bearer. To many within the ranks of Kirigakure’s forward scouts, he had already earned a nickname: Shinigami of Konoha.

Whispers of a red-eyed shinobi with a flawless kill record and a calm, smiling face had spread through the ranks of the Mist. Saitama’s image—especially his crimson Sharingan and deadly Lightning Release—had been etched into Kirigakure’s intelligence reports.

"Clean up the bodies," Saitama ordered. He glanced over the field. "We’re done here."

Despite their injuries, the Huo brothers had killed four enemy shinobi—two chūnin and two genin. Their teamwork was reliable and deadly.

"Got it!" Huo moved to secure the enemy corpses.

Snap!

Saitama landed lightly next to Yan, who was still kneeling, blood soaking the fabric over his abdomen.

"Captain..." Yan’s voice was strained. His wound was clearly painful.

"Let me see."

Faced with Saitama’s sharp tone and unflinching stare, Yan reluctantly pulled his hand away, revealing a deep gash.

"It’s not that bad," Saitama said after a moment, eyeing the ten-centimeter laceration. "Not deep—but the bleeding’s excessive."

Yan nodded, gritting his teeth.

"I’ve got it."

Saitama knelt. A soft green glow enveloped his hand, and he pressed it gently to Yan’s wound.

"Hiss—!" Yan flinched. The chakra was cool and tingling.

"Captain, you know medical ninjutsu?" Huo had returned and stared in surprise.

"Picked it up recently," Saitama said casually. "Never had a chance to use it before."

"Of course you did," Huo muttered, both impressed and unsurprised. "A real genius doesn’t need to brag."

After a minute, Saitama withdrew his hand. The bleeding had stopped, though the wound still showed.

"It’ll hold. You can move?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Captain."

"Good. Let’s regroup. We’ve swept the area, and the mission’s complete."

Saitama adjusted his sword at the waist, securing it snugly, and began walking back toward the Konoha forward camp.

Their assignment had been simple: patrol, eliminate any infiltrators, and report back. Mission accomplished.

---

Back in Konoha, the war council was already in session.

Mito Menma—an elder of the village council—adjusted his reading glasses as he spoke gravely. "What’s your assessment of Kirigakure’s recent maneuvers?"

Hyūga Shin, head of one branch of the Hyūga Clan, was first to respond. "If they continue at this rate, it will only weaken them. Mist must realize that sending small squads to harass us isn’t sustainable. Eventually, they’ll break before we do."

His Byakugan eyes drifted toward Uchiha Amaki, who sat silently across the table.

After a pause, Amaki spoke. "While I agree they’ve taken more losses than we have, don’t underestimate them. If they’re prepared to sustain prolonged attrition, and we’re fighting on multiple fronts, our advantage disappears." freeωebnovēl.c૦m

"That’s true," Shin muttered, though his tone remained cold. "Still, this indecisive behavior is beneath a major village."

Mito Menma sighed. "Konoha’s resources are vast, but not limitless. The longer this drags on, the more vulnerable we become elsewhere."

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