Naruto: Zombie Release

Sometimes, in battle, it's better not to get bogged down in grand narratives. Instead, victory is built detail by detail, nudging the tide steadily in your favor.

This was one of those times.

Two Root operatives had sacrificed themselves.

Even if each had only bought a few seconds to a few minutes, even if all they did was slightly delay the enemy pursuit, it made a world of difference.

When Araki killed Tora and watched him ignite the explosive tags wrapped around his body and self-detonate without hesitation, his blood pressure spiked.

"Those two dead ones were probably Konoha's Anbu. I remember the Anbu never used to fight like this. 

When did they start strapping themselves with explosive tags like this was standard procedure?"

Araki was furious. That explosion had cost them precious seconds.

What use were the corpses of two ordinary Anbu Jonin, even if left intact? 

At best, they'd serve as raw material for Suna's human puppet experiments, and most likely, they wouldn't yield anything of true value.

But to self-destruct while still barely breathing… Araki suspected it wasn't just about denying Suna the corpses, it was about denying them to Arata as well.

By the time Araki caught up with the Konoha team again and easily completed the encirclement, he realized something was off.

"Be careful. There might be explosive tags hidden inside these guys."

A puppeteer cast out chakra threads and manipulated the bodies from a distance. When they saw the stitched-up necks, they understood they'd been fooled.

"They altered the corpses to resemble specific individuals and used them as puppets... It's the original effect of Konoha's Dead Soul Technique."

"So… we got played again?"

"I think so. And we don't even know how many batches Arata has modified like this. If there's a second or third wave, we won't stand a chance. 

We're less than three kilometers from the Land of Fire now. It's already too late."

Araki scowled. They'd failed both objectives: retrieving the intel and capturing Arata.

Just then, the corpses began to hiss.

With a collective, knowing glance that said "of course," the Suna shinobi watched as the bodies exploded.

Flesh and blood rained down like a grisly drizzle, pattering across their armor and skin in a staccato rhythm.

Some Suna ninja recoiled in disgust, swatting bits of meat off themselves with a grimace.

Araki, ever cautious, noticed some of the flesh landing on his open wounds. His brows furrowed. 

He flicked the remnants away with a finger and barked, "Do not touch the remains. The enemy might've laced them with poison. 

Continue pursuit! Don't stop until the final moment! That's the way of Suna's shinobi!"

They set off again.

But another wave of disguised zombies drew their attention, scattering their focus. It was now impossible to stop Konoha's retreat. 

They could only watch helplessly as Terai led his people into the forest surrounding the Leaf Village.

If they chased any farther, they'd risk a full ambush by Konoha forces, and heavier casualties.

Arata could almost hear the whispering of sand on the wind behind him, but he didn't even look back. He sat calmly, waiting for Nono to finish tending to the injury on his hand.

"Losing two fingers will interfere with your ability to form hand signs," she said, wiping sweat from her brow. Her chakra reserves, already nearly depleted, were now completely exhausted. Her face was clouded with worry.

For a young shinobi, who had only recently started making a name for himself, losing the ability to properly form seals was a devastating blow. 

It meant his ceiling was now fixed, many jutsu would forever be out of reach.

As for alternate sealing methods, using feet, or even eyes, well… those were feats reserved for Kage-level elites. 

Niche techniques so rare that no one seriously believed Arata could replicate them. So the thought never even crossed their minds.

Terai and Isuke both quietly studied Arata's expression.

But his face remained calm.

"Trading two fingers for your life and the intel you recovered, was more than worth it. If I had the choice, I'd give up all ten fingers, if it meant helping the village even more."

The words were unassailable.

Especially since he had, in fact, lost the fingers. His potential had undeniably plummeted, and yet, there was no trace of self-pity, no emotional breakdown. Just cold clarity and quiet conviction.

At the very least, Nono believed him.

She had once belonged to Root, but unlike most, she still held on to her emotions. She was… different.

Terai's tone softened. "When we report back to the village, I'll make sure your contributions are recognized. We couldn't have completed the mission without you."

"No, it was thanks to you and everyone else, "

"Whether it's humility or arrogance doesn't matter to me," Terai cut him off. "I'm not negotiating. I'm doing what needs to be done."

Arata nodded silently. He reached over, slit open a zombie's stomach, and retrieved a scroll hidden inside, this one had long since outlived its usefulness during the high-speed retreat. Other than serving as an explosive trap, the corpse was spent.

That was the advantage of zombies. They could operate at full tilt, sometimes even surpassing their abilities in life, right up until they broke down completely.

Terai took the intel, formed a seal, and vanished with a shunshin.

Isuke looked at Arata. "If we both survive this war, you might actually end up heading the Corpse Disposal Division."

"No… I'm just a Chunin…"

"There's not much difference between a Chunin and a tokubetsu Jonin in most areas, and you know that." Isuke shook his head.

"I've earned a fair share of merit myself. When we return to the village, I won't be going back to my old post either."

The Corpse Disposal Division was a third-rate department, usually relegated to handling worthless bodies. They rarely even touched Kekkei Genkai corpses.

But if Arata were to take over, with his unparalleled Dead Soul Technique, he could turn the department into something formidable.

Everyone knew: this A-rank mission had succeeded in large part thanks to Arata. Recognition from the village was inevitable.

With that, the team disbanded.

Yakushi Nono lingered.

She studied the youth before her, a frail, spindly figure who looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over.

To be honest, she hadn't paid much attention to Arata before. 

When she took over responsibility for war orphans six months ago, Arata had already left the orphanage to begin village missions. 

In all that time, they'd spoken fewer than ten sentences to each other.

Arata had always kept to himself, avoiding contact with others. He came off as extremely reclusive, sickly even, radiating a cold aura that repelled people.

"But I should remind you," Nono said at last, her voice tinged with hesitation, "your jutsu deals with corpses. You'll never be the kind of war hero everyone cheers for."

Her voice wavered, the cruelty of her words apparent even to herself. 

"Still… it seems you've developed some kind of spatial technique, something that swaps positions through the Dead Soul Technique? That's… incredible. 

You've already begun forging your own path, building a personal jutsu system…"

She trailed off, her eyes drifting down to his mutilated hand.

With all his fingers intact, Arata might've had a real chance to refine the Dead Soul Technique into a full-blown combat system.

But now?

Without a full set of fingers, some seals might forever remain out of reach.

And without the ability to form new seals, how could he ever develop the next stage of his own ninjutsu?