Something Is Wrong

At dawn, the four of them reached the outskirts of the target village.

The village was smaller than the mission briefing had described.

A little over twenty wooden houses lined the valley, backed against a cliff. There was only one road in or out.

Murakami Takuya led them around to the eastern high ground, where they found a clump of bushes in the woods. From there, they could look down over the entire village.

"Get down. Not a sound."

The four of them dropped into the bushes.

Tsunade was to Kitahara Kaede's left, Jiraiya to his right.

The morning sun had just climbed over the ridge, shining on the rooftops below. The village was quiet.

Tsunade spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper. "The smoke's wrong."

Kitahara Kaede followed her gaze.

Of the twenty-odd houses, only three or four had smoke rising from them.

"Even in a poor village, people have to cook once it's light out." Tsunade's brows drew together.

She had always been observant; her temper just tended to overshadow it.

Kitahara Kaede said nothing, shifting his gaze from the rooftops to the road.

Everyone walking around was a young or middle-aged man.

No women. No elderly people. No children.

Not one.

Jiraiya lay to the right, craning his neck as he stared down for a while. Then he nudged Kitahara Kaede's arm. "Over there—the guy carrying a crate. Watch how he walks."

At the far western end of the village, near the cliff, stood a large warehouse with its doors open.

Two men were carrying wooden crates inside. They were heavy enough that it took both men to lift each one, their steps weighed down by the load.

"His weight's on the balls of his feet," Jiraiya muttered. "I vaguely remember hearing the teacher talk about this while I was dozing in class... That stance isn't for doing manual labor. It's for being ready to fight at any moment."

Tsunade froze for a moment, then scanned the villagers again. Her expression changed.

"They're all like that."

Kitahara Kaede had counted them.

Fourteen men, all with the same stance and the same gait.

Murakami Takuya lay at the front, sweeping his gaze over the village three times. His expression darkened.

"Do you smell anything?"

Tsunade sniffed.

Then she stiffened.

She had studied the fundamentals of Medical Ninjutsu for over a year and had encountered all kinds of medicinal powders in her apothecary lessons.

There was one smell she remembered clearly—lime.

The battlefield procedures manual spelled it out plainly: spreading lime over a large area served one purpose.

To mask the stench of rotting corpses.

She didn't say it aloud. Her fingers clenched unconsciously around the grass beneath her.

"There's blood, too," Kitahara Kaede said quietly. "The lime's covered most of it, but not all."

Three seconds of silence.

"What happened to the villagers?" Tsunade's voice sank, as if she were asking even though she already knew the answer.

"The mission briefing says rogue samurai have occupied a town and are harassing and robbing its people." Kitahara Kaede's tone was level. "But there are no rogue samurai down there, and no people being harassed."

He paused.

"The original villagers are gone."

Tsunade's fingers loosened, then clenched again.

"This isn't a village," Kitahara Kaede said. "It's a stronghold disguised as one. They slaughtered the villagers to silence them, then replaced them with their own people. The crates in the warehouse are military supplies, and the lime is covering a mass grave."

Jiraiya went white. His mouth opened, his Adam's apple bobbed twice, but no words came out.

His hand instinctively went to his ninja tool pouch.

Murakami Takuya turned to Kitahara Kaede, his gaze steady and unsurprised.

"I'd confirmed it before you spoke," he said solemnly. "But you pieced it together faster than I expected."

"Those four from last night—" Kitahara Kaede continued without pausing. "They had standard-issue shinobi Soldier Ration Pills. They weren't rogue samurai; they were the stronghold's outer patrol. They didn't stumble across our camp by chance. They were following a regular patrol route."

Murakami Takuya nodded.

"They should've returned to relieve the next patrol before dawn."

All four fell silent.

They weren't coming back.

The four men had fallen beside the camp. They weren't coming back.

And now it was daylight.

Tsunade reacted first. "If the relief patrol doesn't show up, they'll—"

"Send someone to check, or raise the alarm." Murakami Takuya cut in, lowering his voice and speaking faster. "Listen. The mission has changed. This isn't C-Rank—it's at least A-Rank. The contract to drive out rogue samurai was just a cover—"

He didn't finish.

"Withdraw. Now. We'll go back the way we came and report to Konoha."

Tsunade bit her lip.

She looked down at the quiet village.

Twenty-odd wooden houses, three or four trails of smoke, and fourteen "villagers" who walked like shinobi.

The people buried under the lime might once have cooked meals in those houses.

Maybe old folks had sat outside in the sun, and children had run along the road.

Her fists clenched. She forced down the urge to charge in with every bit of reason she had.

Then she looked away.

"Let's go."

Jiraiya didn't answer. He was already stooping and backing away.

Kitahara Kaede took one last look toward the warehouse.

A bald man stood at the entrance with his arms crossed, repeatedly glancing beyond the village.

He wasn't watching the men carrying crates. He was waiting for the men who were supposed to come back.

The four of them backed out of the bushes, bent low as they withdrew along the edge of the woods.

Dead leaves crunched underfoot, but everyone kept their steps quiet.

Kitahara Kaede brought up the rear, glancing back every few steps.

Tsunade walked ahead of him, moving quickly and steadily without saying a word.

They had withdrawn about two hundred meters.

Murakami Takuya stopped.

Kitahara Kaede halted at almost the same moment.

A chakra fluctuation.

Very faint, coming from deep in the woods to their left—a sensory type was scanning the area.

Kitahara Kaede looked at Murakami Takuya.

Murakami Takuya already had a hand on his sword hilt, his face ashen.

"We've been spotted."

Tsunade's body tensed instantly.

Before the words had even left his mouth, the treetops to their left exploded.

Three Kunai with Explosive Tags attached streaked toward them.

"Scatter!"

Murakami Takuya slapped both hands to the ground—Earth Style Wall!

An earthen wall burst from the ground, shielding the three children.

Boom!

The explosion made their ears ring. A blast of air poured around both sides of the wall, pelting them with dirt and leaves.

Kitahara Kaede grabbed Tsunade and rolled right, turning his body to shield her from the blast.

The instant Tsunade hit the ground, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward her—not because she was scared, but because she didn't want him shielding her again.

Jiraiya dove to the left, moving far more smoothly than he had the night before.

The second wave came right behind it.

Shuriken flew in from three directions at once, crossing angles to cover their escape routes.

Murakami Takuya drew his sword and deflected the volley coming from the front, sparks spraying across his face.

"They're on the north side, too!" Jiraiya shouted.

His voice trembled, but he held his Kunai steady.

Footsteps surged toward them from the village.

Not just one or two—dozens.

The "villagers" who had been carrying crates were closing in around them.

Kitahara Kaede let go of Tsunade and glanced back the way they had come.

Figures moved among the trees, already blocking their way back.

Their escape route was sealed.

He quickly surveyed the terrain. The woods to the north were dense but low, making them hard to run through. The slope to the south was open and exposed.

The east, the way they had come, was blocked.

Their only opening was at the southwest corner, a gap between two fallen trees—but they didn't know if anyone was waiting on the other side.

"Get over here! All of you!"

Murakami Takuya's voice was strained—Kitahara Kaede had never heard him sound like this before.

Kitahara Kaede pulled Tsunade toward the earthen wall.

As she ran, Tsunade whipped two Shuriken back over her shoulder, forcing a figure closing in from the right to retreat.

Jiraiya rolled over from the other side, a Shuriken buried in his right shoulder.

Blood ran down his sleeve and dripped onto the grass.

He gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound. He never stopped moving.

The four of them huddled behind the earthen wall.

Cracks had already spread across it.

Kitahara Kaede peered through a gap.

At least twenty people were closing in from three sides.

Some were still dressed in the coarse clothes they'd worn while carrying crates, but now they held Kunai, long swords, and Explosive Tags, with ninja tool pouches tied at their waists.

The bald man walked at the center of the front line, a smile on his lips.

Looking toward the earthen wall, he spoke.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly through the valley.

"Where'd these little rats come from? No wonder the patrol hasn't come back yet."

His gaze swept over the top of the wall and settled on the young faces visible through the cracks. His smile widened.

"From Konoha? Or are you just brats... here to die?"

Tsunade ground her teeth.

Jiraiya pressed his right hand to his injured shoulder, gripping a Kunai in his left.

Kitahara Kaede watched the twenty-odd figures closing in through the gap. He spun the Kunai in his hand halfway around, switching from an overhand grip to a reverse grip.