The third site where Konoha's shinobi vanished lay much farther from the hot spring inn.
The bodies they'd just discovered had been strung up like trophies — if leaving them in the open counted as "mercy," then that was the closest thing the Mist-nin had to compassion.
Still, Fugaku, Yashiro, and Shin didn't linger. The mission came first.
The three darted through the dense forest, wind tearing past their faces. A few travelers on the road below felt a rush overhead, glanced up — and saw nothing but leaves.
They couldn't afford to slow down. Every wasted second only tilted the odds against them.
"Yashiro," Shin called while sprinting, "what do you think Kirigakure's after?"
Even at full speed, Uchiha didn't waste words.
"They left their village and ran straight to that hot spring inn. Trust me, they weren't here for a soak," Shin muttered. "They killed our people, doubled back just to wipe out the pursuers… but why? Witnesses mean nothing in war. That was cruelty, pure and simple."
Yashiro's jaw tightened. "Kirigakure's different. I don't know what their Mizukage's thinking, but in that village, the weak die and the strong take everything. Always. For them, killing isn't strategy. It's culture."
His words hung heavy in the air. In Kiri, even genin had to spill blood to graduate. Their ranks weren't decided by teamwork or skill — only raw strength. A paradise for the strong. A slaughterhouse for everyone else.
"Sounds less like a village and more like a criminal syndicate," Shin muttered.
"Maybe." Yashiro's tone was grim. "But that makes them more dangerous than anyone else. If not for the Uchiha stationed here, Konoha would've already lost Tang Country's stronghold."
His voice lowered. "We can't afford that stain on our name."
The three fell into silence, shadows slipping through the branches.
Yashiro broke it with a grumble. "You know… White Fang took this land originally. All the Yūnin called him that. A proper title. Tch. I want one too."
"Keep dreaming, Squinty," Shin said dryly.
Fugaku didn't answer. He was already watching the land ahead.
They dropped into a canyon — their next destination. Three sets of Sharingan spun, searching.
"There. Traces of ninjutsu," Yashiro said, crouching.
Both Fugaku and Shin glanced at him in surprise. They'd activated their eyes too, but hadn't seen anything yet.
Yashiro rubbed his fingertips over damp stone. "Mist Concealment Technique. Classic Kirigakure. Heavy fog for assassination work."
A chill rippled down his spine. "That means this was their assassination squad. Trained specifically to take out enemy leaders. They don't miss."
"You saw that faster than us," Shin muttered. "We're all three tomoe. How?"
Yashiro smirked. "I'm older. More experience. And… I've trained my body with Jinzō's internal cultivation method. Strengthens the body, sharpens the eyes. Even enhances Sharingan."
Fugaku blinked, startled. "That's possible?"
Jinzō's taijutsu system — the Six Forms — was already impressive, but even the basic method could boost dojutsu? He hadn't expected that.
"I've got an extra copy," Yashiro said casually. "If you want it, I'm sure Jinzō wouldn't mind."
The offer hung in the air like a bridge between them. Yashiro knew Fugaku and Jinzō didn't get along, but war didn't leave room for grudges.
Fugaku's expression didn't change, but his silence was answer enough.
Shin jumped in smoothly. "We'll thank Jinzō for it later." Rejecting something that could save their lives? Only a fool would do that.
They pressed forward, scouring the canyon. Not much. Just traces of passage.
"Where does this canyon lead?" Fugaku asked, eyes narrowing.
"Past the line? To the sea," Yashiro said. His frown deepened. "And across the sea… Land of Lightning."
The three exchanged a glance — then sprinted forward.
They'd barely cleared the canyon mouth when Yashiro froze.
"No—!"
The ground exploded beneath them.
"Boom!"
Stone cracked, earth split, and figures emerged from both sides of the gorge. Mist poured in thick and heavy, swallowing the air.
And then they saw them. Dozens of shinobi in headbands marked with the symbol of Rain.
A trap.
Yashiro's face twisted. "Damn it. I didn't even sense it."
"Not your fault," Fugaku said coldly, katana sliding free. "No one expected them to strike now. Kiri's been too quiet. We should've known better. War never waits politely."
The fog thickened, chakra rolling off the enemies in waves.
"Only three of them?" one enemy sneered.
"We'll keep fishing," a woman licked her lips. "Konoha'll send more."
"No, we can't keep this up or we'll be discovered," another hissed.
An old white-haired Rain-nin chuckled. His teeth glinted in the mist. "Heh… don't get cocky. These aren't random stragglers. Look at those eyes. That's Konoha's Uchiha elite."
Scarlet Sharingan flared to life.
Fugaku, Yashiro, and Shin drew their blades.
The lead enemy raised his hand.
"Kill them."
The fog swallowed everything.