A biting wind swept through the forest.
Bare branches rattled, and yellow leaves spun in the air as they drifted to the ground.
Beneath the trees,
the remnants of Kirigakure's defeated army gathered in scattered squads. They pulled out dry rations and water, eating quickly and quietly, desperate to restore even a shred of their drained strength.
In that silence,
a heavy air of dejection slowly spread.
On every face lingered deep confusion—
and threads of despair.
"Ryūsei, we can't go on like this!"
Hōzuki Mangetsu clutched a water flask, gulping furiously to replace what he'd lost.
"I know."
Kirigumo Ryūsei's expression was ashen, stripped of the vitality and hope a youth his age should have. With his head hanging low, his voice was barely audible.
"I know if this continues, we're finished. But it's no use, Mangetsu. I've racked my brains and I can't think of any way to get us out of this. All I can do… is cut off the tail again and again, just to keep the rest alive."
Cutting off the tail—
throwing away a piece of flesh to distract the predator, to halt its bloodthirsty pursuit.
But what Ryūsei meant by "tail" was, of course, not his own body.
It was their comrades—one after another, whether named or nameless—left behind.
"…Ryūsei, you've done well enough."
Mangetsu let out a soundless sigh.
Days earlier,
as if in retribution for their failed ambush, Konoha's shinobi had struck back with overwhelming force. Like a thunderclap, the counterattack smashed through their defenses; their main camp fell in a single crushing battle. The thousands-strong Kirigakure force collapsed completely.
Not all could be slain in one blow.
The army shattered, scattering in every direction.
At that time,
Mangetsu and Ryūsei had been together. When the main camp fell, they clashed with Konoha shinobi, cutting down two full squads. But that victory drew the attention of enemy elites, and soon seven or eight jōnin were hunting them like hounds after hares.
They fled first toward the port, hoping to escape by ship.
But—
they had not retreated quickly enough. By the time they reached the harbor, all they saw were ships engulfed by flames, one after another consumed by fire. Behind them, the pursuers pressed relentlessly closer. No matter how strong the two of them were, it was impossible to cross the sea on foot and return to the Land of Water.
With no choice,
they turned south instead.
Konoha's forces pressed from the north and west, while to the east lay nothing but the boundless ocean. Southward was the only path.
Along the way,
they encountered many other Kirigakure shinobi fleeing for their lives.
Naturally,
Ryūsei and Mangetsu assumed leadership of one squad after another. The logic was simple: both were jōnin, one a prodigy of the Kirigumo clan, the other a rare genius of the Hōzuki. Even if still young, their bloodlines alone commanded respect in a world ruled by pedigree.
Yet for the two of them,
this was no cause for joy.
Mangetsu's talents all lay in training and combat. In matters of leadership, he was hopeless—so when the others thrust command upon them, it was Ryūsei who shouldered every burden of organization.
And because Konoha's pursuit was unrelenting,
Ryūsei resorted to the plan of cutting off the tail.
From an original peak of more than 230 men, their band had withered to just over 160. More than seventy comrades had been abandoned in waves, thrown to delay the enemy pursuit…
Such choices were impossible to call right or wrong.
Different eyes would judge differently.
But Ryūsei himself could scarcely bear it.
To send comrade after comrade into the jaws of death—
he was only sixteen. His heart had not yet been ground into stone by the river of time.
"…Ryūsei, you said earlier we had reinforcements? Someone would come for us?"
Mangetsu could find no words of comfort, so he grasped at another thread of hope.
"There are reinforcements. Do you remember my grandfather's mission to the Land of Rivers?"
Ryūsei's face remained pale, but he did not give in to despair. He forced himself to rally.
"The Land of Rivers… ah! You mean that Koeda Clan matter? I heard someone from that clan even brought down Hanzō of the Salamander! Wait—don't tell me the one coming to meet us is your grandfather? Or could it be… that man who defeated Hanzō himself?!"
"I don't know exactly who. But in the last message, they said they would rendezvous with us in the south…"
Ryūsei spoke a place name.
It lay directly along their path of retreat.
"No wonder you've been leading us this way!" Mangetsu's eyes lit with realization.
"…Mangetsu, you thought I was just wandering aimlessly with everyone?" Ryūsei's brow twitched.
"That's exactly what I thought."
Mangetsu answered without the slightest hesitation.
"…No wonder your clan never expected you to inherit the Second Mizukage's mantle, to lead the Hōzuki once more to the forefront of Kirigakure. You'd run the village straight into a ditch."
Ryūsei didn't hold back his scorn.
Mangetsu's talent might rival, or even surpass, that of the Second Mizukage Hōzuki Gengetsu—but only in combat and cultivation. In every other respect, he wasn't even worthy to carry Gengetsu's sandals.
The boy was too lopsided.
Even in a village built on strength, that was simply too extreme.
"I have no interest in becoming Mizukage anyway. Being Mizukage means no more missions, no more fighting. That kind of dull life would drive me mad." Mangetsu waved off the jab, utterly unconcerned.
"…Mangetsu, you're drifting off again. Back to the point—" Ryūsei cut in sharply.
"Even if someone's coming for us, I fear we may not make it to the rendezvous. Before then… we might all fall here, our bones buried in foreign soil."
"If it comes to that, then next time let me cover the retreat."
Mangetsu suddenly said.
"Mangetsu?!"
Ryūsei's face changed in an instant.