Aburame: The Swarm Chapter 38 38: Has My Brain Cramped Up?

After watching his two subordinates train for a while, Abura Tetsumaru returned to his tent to catch up on so much-needed sleep. However, a nagging feeling persisted—a flicker of inspiration that felt obscured by a thick fog. It was an incredibly uncomfortable sensation.

He lay down, trying to grasp the thought, but the mont his head hit the pillow, he drifted off.

By the ti he woke up, the sky was dim; the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon. Tetsumaru felt sticky and gri-ridden, that particular brand of grogginess where you've slept your fill but still feel out of sorts.

The greatest advantage of the Land of Rain was the abundance of water. Ponds, lakes, marshes, and streams were everywhere, and clean sources were easy to find. He ran to a nearby stream and took a quick bath; imdiately, his body felt refreshed and his spirit cleared.

The downside, however, was that because it was always raining, there was no such thing as dry clothes. Prolonged humidity made the fabric of his clothes rough. He didn't even dare wring them out too hard after washing for fear of tearing them; he could only put them back on wet and let his body heat "hug" them dry.

The feeling of wet clothes clinging to skin was... uniquely vivid. The constant loss of body heat during the drying process created a lingering sense of insecurity and discomfort.

It was during tis like these that Tetsumaru, a Wind Style specialist, deeply envied his Fire Style colleagues. He could use Fire Style himself, of course, but his technique was diocre at best; trying to "tumble-dry" his clothes with ninjutsu usually just resulted in them catching fire.

Then again, the Fire Style masters active in the Land of Rain had it pretty rough themselves. In a land where it rained three tis a year, for a hundred and twenty days each ti, the potency of Fire Style was reduced by at least seventy percent. Tetsumaru used that little fact to "comfort"—or rather, deceive—himself.

How did he know Fire Style users felt stifled?

He had a subordinate nad Uchiha Akira, after all. Before the rogue ninja hunt, the boy had relied almost exclusively on Taijutsu, kenjutsu, and shurikenjutsu. His daily mantra was: "If I could just use my Fire Style, I would have roasted that guy alive in one breath."

Wearing his damp clothes back to camp, Tetsumaru imdiately heard Akira grumbling. "It's been so long since I used Fire Style that I'm forgetting how. I need to practice properly. It's not like we're going to be stuck in the Land of Rain forever."

Honk, honk, honk—! Kurama Yun's eerie, goose-like laughter rang out.

Tetsumaru couldn't help but smirk. That death-fearing Uchiha certainly held a lot of resentnt. However, the fact that he was complaining to Yun showed he finally viewed her as a teammate.

But Akira was dreaming if he thought he'd be transferred to a more "fire-friendly" theater anyti soon.

The malice the Konoha high command held toward the Uchiha clan was palpable. While many were stationed in the Rain, even more were sent to the Land of Water front. That country literally faced the ocean and was perpetually shrouded in thick fog—not to ntion the Hidden Mist ninjas were almost entirely comprised of Water Style masters.

The Uchiha in the Land of Water had probably cried until their tears ran dry. Compared to them, the Uchiha in the Rain were the lucky ones.

"But is practicing those fixed patterns actually useful?" Yun asked. "It feels like everyone already knows the Uchiha's tricks."

"I don't know," Akira replied. "But the elders say it doesn't matter. As long as you're fast enough to hit the enemy before they can react, you win."

"True. As long as you can knock them down, it doesn't matter what they know."

Tetsumaru froze. As long as you're fast enough... as long as you can hit the enemy...

Has my brain been cramped for the last few months? Why did I let myself get stuck in such a rut?

He realized he hadn't been developing his giant insects for "all-around power." The swarm was simply his standard ans of engagent. All he needed was to combine them into a sharp, decisive tactical doctrine.

A legendary general like Cheng Yaojin only needed three signature axe swings to make a na for himself. If Tetsumaru could combine his swarm into three or four effective combat "doctrines," he could be a powerhouse. As long as he could defeat the enemy at the right mont, why did he need a total, all-encompassing advantage?

The ntal knot unraveled, and his mind felt instantly clearer.

However, as a ssenger hawk cut through the rainy night sky, Tetsumaru knew a mission was incoming. He wouldn't have ti to experint with his new ideas just yet.

Suppressing his irritation, he barked an order to Akira and Yun: "Pack your gear imdiately. Await my command."

"Yes, sir!"

He watched them dash into their tents before heading to the camp center. By the ti he arrived, over a hundred Chunin Captains and a few Jonin had already gathered.

Everyone waited anxiously for news, only for the captains to be left utterly speechless. It wasn't a combat mission—it was a notification of a change in command.

The mix-up was infuriating, especially for the captains who had arrived last. They had seen the hawk while outside the camp and had abandoned their squads to rush back, only to nearly collapse from the anticlimax.

The new commander seed a bit embarrassed as well. He had been over-excited and, on a whim, used a ssenger hawk to announce his arrival, inadvertently causing a massive false alarm.

The new commander had spent his entire career in the village and had never been to the front lines. He had no concept of the hair-trigger tension in a war zone. A notification thod that was perfectly normal in the village was enough to send high-strung frontline ninjas into a frenzy.

In his past life, Tetsumaru had never been a soldier, let alone fought a war. He didn't know the specifics of modern warfare on Earth, but from the bits of military trivia he'd gathered, he knew that frontline soldiers had a "tolerance period." Exceeding that limit led to severe psychological consequences.

On paper, the Great Ninja Wars seed slow-paced; most squads might go a month without seeing combat. But once a fight did break out, the results were horrific. Defeat often ant total annihilation, and even victory frequently cost fifty percent casualties.

Add to that the fact that ninjas possessed insane mobility—mountains and rivers couldn't stop their infiltration. A ninja could easily sneak a hundred kiloters into enemy territory in a single day. Consequently, there was no such thing as a "front line" in the Shinobi World; there were only massive, overlapping battlefields.

The mont you stepped onto the field, you were a target. Every battle was a coin flip for your life. Any sane ninja living this reality was perpetually on edge. Stay in that state long enough and you'd lose your mind. It was no exaggeration to say that any ninja who survived three months on the front was a certified freak.

And that raised the question: why was such an unsuitable person being "airdropped" in as the commander?

The next day, a new wave of reinforcents arrived, led by a ninja with pale skin and flowing long hair.

Don't be mistaken—it wasn't a kunoichi. It was Jonin Orochimaru.

(Well, maybe later he'd be "Kunoichi Orochimaru"?)

Orochimaru took over as Deputy Commander. In that mont, Tetsumaru found the answer to his question and reached a cynical conclusion: unless luck was on their side, Hiruzen Sarutobi's arrangent was a total brain-cramped disaster.

"A new official starts with three fires," as the saying goes, but this commander's first fire had already turned into a farce. It was safe to assu that while the man's personal strength was an unknown, his command and managent skills were nonexistent.

In a high-intensity theater like the Rain, a poor commander would inevitably commit an unforgivable blunder. He would then be recalled in disgrace, allowing Orochimaru to step up and take the reins.

If Orochimaru weren't an all-around genius, this entire gamble would have blown up in their faces.

But the Third Hokage's luck held out. Orochimaru was a genius—a polymath. He was a master of ninjutsu, a research prodigy, and a brilliant administrator and commander.

The final result would likely be a happy ending for the village. Whether this arrangent was a stroke of calculated brilliance or a risky success remained to be seen, and in the Shinobi World, no one would look too closely at the "why."

Tetsumaru, however, thought differently. This realization bred a deep-seated hostility toward the Third Hokage.

To pave the way for his own disciple, Hiruzen had intentionally appointed an unsuitable veteran Jonin from a rival faction as the fall guy. It showed a callous disregard for the lives of the two thousand ninjas in the Rain Theater; their survival was clearly less important than Orochimaru's career advancent.

The cost of this "calculated mistake" would be paid in the lives of Konoha shinobi. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, would have to die before the commander's failure was "persuasive" enough to ruin him.

Unfortunately, Tetsumaru was part of that "cost." Even more unfortunately, this crossed his line—an unforgivable, intolerable line.

Because of this, Tetsumaru abandoned the idea of spreading scientific knowledge. He had been looking for the right ti to introduce modern concepts, as chakra was perfectly suited for biological engineering.

But the cardinal sin of scientific developnt is working behind closed doors. Progress needs geniuses to break ground, but it relies even more on a foundation laid by scores of "average" scientists working together. The sturdier the foundation, the higher the tech ceiling. And the speed of that climb depends on industrialization, which in turn depends on basic education.

Chakra didn't change that law; it rely lowered the requirent for the "foundation" and gave geniuses more room to play.

But today's event made Tetsumaru realize what he had been overlooking: the cultural landscape of the Shinobi World was hostile to science. They lacked industrial thought and had no concept of the necessity for universal education.

Without a mainstream cultural acceptance of the relationship between science and technology, any attempt to spread knowledge was dood to fail. Either people wouldn't believe him, they'd find it too "troubleso," or a powerful minority would recognize its value and imdiately monopolize it, leading to a technological lockdown and stagnation.

Look at his ant-sugar technology. It hadn't progressed an inch in years because the "Ant-Sugar Alliance" had used their ninja privileges to establish an easy monopoly. Why bother with research when the monopoly guaranteed infinite profits?

More importantly, being part of a lockdown was a death sentence for the inventor.

In the few years since the Alliance was ford, the person in charge of ant-sugar operations was already the ninth appointee. Not a single one had resigned; the previous eight were either missing or dead. If Tetsumaru hadn't leveraged Elder Shiki's help to distance himself before the Alliance was even formalized, he'd be a mory by now.

Tetsumaru had only reached the Chunin level after graduating and surviving a war. The eight previous managers had been Chunin selected by traditional standards. Once the "accidents" got out of hand, the ninth manager appointed was an outright Jonin.

How could he solve the problem of cultural backwardness in the Shinobi World?

Tetsumaru racked his brain for a solution. He desperately wanted the support of a scientific community; it was the only way to achieve the efficiency needed to pursue his "small goal" of biological immortality.

The answer is staring in the face, but I don't want to pay the price.

"The Art of Slaying Dragons"—as if he hadn't studied that back on Earth.

Tetsumaru had read all three of the "Great Reconstruction Manuals": The Barefoot Doctor's Manual, The Militia Military Training Manual, and The Friend of Military and Civilian Talent. He could recall every word with perfect clarity.

Sadly, his mory of One Hundred Thousand Whys was mostly gone, though it had still served as a vital outline for his work with insects.

Transforming a society is a revolution. Revolutions require the sweat, blood, and lives of the revolutionaries. They also require an even larger sacrifice of flesh and blood from the old world before success is possible.

The first sacrifice is always the seed—the revolutionary leader. Could such a leader be born in the Shinobi World?

Of course not. There was no soil for it.

The only way was for Abura Tetsumaru to sacrifice himself, act as the spark, and ignite a cultural revolution.

Pah.

The Shinobi World, the Land of Fire, Konoha... none of them were worth a transmigrator's life.

Unless my brain really does cramp up.

Tetsumaru thought this, only to realize he had just set a massive "flag" for himself. Dammit, not here. I'm in a war zone!

Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey! What I just said doesn't count. Unspoken thoughts don't count!

May the good words co true, and the bad ones stay silent.

Shit. I don't care which god is listening—if my brain really does cramp up one day, I'm tearing down all your temples.