Something Is Wrong

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

The village was smaller than the mission scroll had described.

Twenty-some wooden huts were lined up along the valley, backed against a cliff face, with only one path leading in and out.

Murakami Takuya led them around to the high ground on the east side, finding a thicket in the woods that offered a bird's-eye view of the entire village.

"Get down, stay quiet."

The four of them crawled into the bushes.

Tsunade was to the left of Kitahara Kaede, and Jiraiya was to the right.

The morning sun had just climbed over the ridge, illuminating the rooftops below, and the village was deathly quiet.

Tsunade spoke first, her voice kept very low: "The cooking smoke is wrong."

Kitahara Kaede followed her gaze.

Of the twenty-some 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 were knitted together.

Her powers of observation were never lacking; they were just usually overshadowed by her temper.

Kitahara Kaede didn't respond, shifting his gaze from the rooftops to the road.

Everyone walking around was a young, able-bodied man.

No women, no elderly, no children.

Not a single one.

Jiraiya lay on the right, his neck stretched out long, squinting down for a long time before suddenly tapping Kitahara Kaede's arm: "Over there—the one carrying the crate, look at how he walks."

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

Two men were carrying a wooden crate inside. The crate wasn't light; they were carrying it together, their steps heavy and deliberate.

"Their center of gravity is on the balls of their feet," Jiraiya muttered. "I think I vaguely remember the teacher mentioning this in class when I was dozing off... that kind of stance isn't for manual labor; it's for being ready to strike at any moment."

Tsunade froze for a moment, scanned the people in the village again, and her expression shifted.

"They all are."

Kitahara Kaede had already counted.

Fourteen people, the same stance, the same gait.

Murakami Takuya lay at the very front, his gaze sweeping back and forth across the village three times before his expression darkened.

"Do you smell anything?"

Tsunade sniffed the air.

Then, her movements stiffened.

She had been studying the basics of medical ninjutsu for over a year and had encountered the scents of various medicinal powders in her pharmacology classes.

There was one she remembered very clearly—lime.

Spreading lime powder over a large area was clearly documented in battlefield disposal protocols, and it had only one purpose.

To mask the stench of rotting corpses.

She didn't say it out loud, her fingers subconsciously digging into the grass beneath her.

"There's also the smell of blood," Kitahara Kaede said in a low voice. "It's mostly covered by the lime, but not completely."

Three seconds of silence.

"What about the villagers?" Tsunade's voice dropped, as if she were asking, yet already knew the answer.

"The mission scroll said wandering samurai were occupying the village, harassing the residents and stealing their wealth," Kitahara Kaede's tone was flat. "But there are no wandering samurai down there, and no harassed residents."

He paused.

"The original villagers are already gone."

Tsunade's fingers loosened and then tightened again.

"This isn't a village," Kitahara Kaede said. "It's a stronghold disguised as one. They slaughtered the villagers to silence them and replaced them with their own people. The warehouse is for military supplies, and the lime is to cover the burial site."

Jiraiya's face went pale, his mouth opening and closing, his Adam's apple bobbing, but not a single word came out.

His hand instinctively reached for his ninja tool pouch.

Murakami Takuya turned to look at Kitahara Kaede, his gaze steady, showing no surprise.

"I confirmed it before you even spoke," his tone was heavy. "But your deduction was faster than I expected."

"Those four from last night—" Kitahara Kaede continued, "they carried standard-issue Soldier Ration Pills from a ninja village. They weren't wandering samurai; they were the outer perimeter patrol for this stronghold. It wasn't a coincidence that they stumbled upon our camp; it was their fixed patrol route."

Murakami Takuya nodded.

"They should have returned to change shifts before daybreak."

The four of them fell silent at the same time.

They weren't coming back.

Those four had fallen near the camp and would never return.

And it was already light out.

Tsunade was the first to react: "If the relief shift didn't return, they will—"

"Send someone to investigate, or go straight to high alert," Murakami Takuya took over, lowering his voice, his speech quickening. "Listen, the nature of this mission has changed. This isn't a C-rank; it's at least A-rank. The commission to expel wandering samurai was just a cover—"

He didn't finish.

"Retreat. We retreat now. Back the way we came, return to Konoha to report."

Tsunade bit her lip.

She looked down at the quiet village below.

Twenty-some wooden huts, three or four wisps of smoke, fourteen "villagers" who walked like ninjas.

The people buried under the lime might have once lit fires and cooked meals in those very houses.

Perhaps there were elderly people sunning themselves at their doorsteps, and children running back and forth on the road.

Her fists clenched, the urge to charge down there held back by sheer reason.

She pulled her gaze away.

"Go."

Jiraiya didn't make a sound, already hunched over and moving backward.

Kitahara Kaede took one last look toward the warehouse.

A bald man stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his gaze constantly sweeping outside the village.

He wasn't watching the men moving cargo; he was waiting for those who should have returned.

The four of them retreated from the bushes, hunched over as they moved along the edge of the woods.

Fallen leaves were crushed underfoot, each of them muffling their own sound.

Kitahara Kaede walked in the back, turning to look behind him every few steps.

Tsunade walked in front of him, her pace quick and steady, not saying a word.

They had retreated about two hundred meters.

Murakami Takuya stopped.

Kitahara Kaede braked at almost the exact same time.

Chakra fluctuations.

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

Kitahara Kaede looked at Murakami Takuya.

Murakami Takuya's hand was already on his sword hilt, his face ashen.

"We've been discovered."

Tsunade's body tensed instantly.

Before the words had even faded, the canopy to their left exploded.

Three kunai trailing explosive tags came flying in.

"Scatter!"

Murakami Takuya slammed his hands onto the ground—Earth Style: Earth Wall.

An earthen wall rose from the ground, blocking the three children.

Boom.

The sound of the explosion made their ears ring, the shockwave rushing in from both sides of the wall, showering them in dirt and leaves.

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

The moment Tsunade hit the ground, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward her—not out of fear, but because she didn't want him shielding her anymore.

Jiraiya lunged out to the left, his movements much sharper than they had been the night before.

The second wave followed immediately.

Shuriken flew from three directions simultaneously, their angles intersecting to cover their retreat.

Murakami Takuya drew his sword and parried the wave coming from the front, sparks showering his face.

"There's one to the north too!" Jiraiya shouted.

His voice trembled, but the kunai in his hand was held steady.

Footsteps surged up from the direction of the village.

Not one or two—a whole swarm.

Those "villagers" who had been moving crates were closing in.

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

Shadows flickered between the trees, already cutting off their path.

Their retreat was sealed.

He quickly scanned the surrounding terrain—the north was woods, dense but low, impossible to run through; the south was a downward slope, open but exposed; the east was the way they had come, now blocked off.

The only opening was in the southwest corner, a gap between two fallen trees, but he couldn't be sure if anyone was behind it.

"Get over here! Everyone, get over here!"

Murakami Takuya's voice was strained—this was the first time Kitahara Kaede had heard that tone from him.

Kitahara Kaede pulled Tsunade toward the earthen wall.

As she ran, Tsunade threw two shuriken backhanded, forcing back the figures intercepting them from the right.

Jiraiya rolled over from the other side, a shuriken embedded in his right shoulder.

Blood flowed down his sleeve, dripping onto the grass.

He gritted his teeth, not making a sound, his movements never stopping.

The four of them huddled behind the earthen wall.

Cracks were already appearing on the wall's surface.

Kitahara Kaede looked out through a gap.

At least twenty people were closing in from three sides.

Some were still wearing the coarse cloth clothes of the cargo movers, but their hands now held kunai, katana, and explosive tags, with ninja tool pouches tied to their waists.

The bald man at the front walked in the center, a smile hanging on his lips.

He looked toward the earthen wall and spoke.

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

"Where did these little mice come from? No wonder the patrol hasn't returned yet."

His gaze swept over the top of the earthen wall, landing on the young faces in the gap, his smile deepening.

"Konoha? Or just some brats... here to die?"

Tsunade's teeth ground together.

Jiraiya pressed his right hand to his shoulder wound, his left hand gripping a kunai.

Kitahara Kaede watched the twenty-some figures closing in outside the gap, his kunai turning half a circle in his hand, switching from a forward grip to a reverse grip.