Momoshiki and Kinshiki Arrive in the Ninja World

When Momoshiki and Kinshiki passed through the atmosphere, the heat barrier stirred an orange-red halo across the surface of their protective membranes. The halo quickly dissipated after they broke through the clouds, and the scenery below shifted from blurred patches of color into clear outlines of the land—folds of mountain ranges, silver threads of rivers, light and dark swaths of forest, and scattered glints reflecting off town rooftops beneath the afternoon sun.

Kinshiki landed first. The instant his weight touched down, the grass beneath his feet sank in a circle around him, his boots burying themselves about an inch into the soft soil. He did not move immediately. Instead, he stood where he was, one hand gripping the haft of his axe as his gaze swept over the surrounding vegetation and terrain—the habitual rhythm of gathering environmental information before battle. Every two breaths, he turned to a new angle, recording every element within sight that might serve as concealment or cover.

Momoshiki landed roughly three steps away from him, much more lightly. The moment his toes touched the ground, he bent his knees slightly to bleed off his momentum before straightening up. His white haori fell naturally with gravity after landing, several blades of windblown grass catching along its hem. He did not brush them away, because his perception had already spread outward.

Chakra perception radiated from his body, spreading over the ground like an extremely thin layer of mercury. The moment it touched the earth, it picked up countless dense signals of varying levels—faint Chakra traces from ordinary people, scattered across the vast land like innumerable tiny points of light. Most of those points were exceedingly dim, less than one percent as strong as a single strand of his perception. To him, they were like nearly invisible ripples raised