The surface of the hot spring pool was covered in thick white mist, like crushed cotton candy.
Makoto suddenly sneezed. As his fingertips rubbed the tip of his nose, the splashed water created fine, wet marks on the edge of the bluestone, instantly freezing into a thin layer of ice in the surrounding cold air.
"Who's talking about me behind my back?" Makoto muttered, looking at the misty water surface, his voice mingling with the gurgling water, carrying a hint of lazy nonchalance.
The night was as dark as impenetrable ink, tightly wrapping the hot spring inn.
Two paper lanterns outside swayed in the wind and snow, their warm yellow light half-melting the snow on the eaves. Water droplets dripped from the wooden eaves with a ticking sound, as if someone was tapping a tin bucket with their fingertips, counting down the approaching time.
Makoto, thoroughly pruned from soaking in the hot spring, lay back on the tatami in the guest room. He had barely closed his eyes for a couple of seconds when the tips of his ears twitched slightly.
Almost imperceptible movements came from outside the courtyard wall. Footsteps as light as cat paws on fresh snow, breathing as even as a taut bowstring, heartbeats suppressed to an extremely low level.
Yet their high frequency was unmistakable… clearly the posture of someone coming to do mischief.
Makoto didn't even lift an eyelid, but a faint, almost imperceptible smile curled the corner of his lips, like a cat waiting for the mouse to arrive.
He mused inwardly, 'They're here…'
From the very beginning, who was the hunter and who was the prey had never changed. These Kumogakure's people were merely walking step by step along the path he had laid out for them.
Moonlight outside the window seeped through the paper screen, casting a slender shadow on the floor, like a fisherman quietly tightening the fishing line, slowly constricting.
Ssshh…
The soft sound of a kunai sliding open the paper door, light as an insect's wingbeat.
Immediately after, a black shadow slid in silently, like ink dripping into clear water.
The hem of her clothes brushed over the straw mat without making the slightest friction sound.
Samui was wrapped in black tight-fitting clothes, her head completely covered, revealing only her blue-green pupils, shining in the dim light like water-soaked glass.
She moved on the balls of her feet, each step landing on the seams of the tatami, minimizing sound to the lowest. Samui's stealth technique was the strongest among this Kumogakure's group.
The only flaw was her relative youth and slight lack of experience. Over the past few days, Samui had found the situation increasingly suspicious.
The hot spring inn this kid chose was as remote as a corner forgotten by Konoha. For nine days, he soaked in the hot springs daily, as if waiting for someone.
If that could still be explained as coincidence, then the sudden flash of the Two Tomoe Sharingan that night, and his undisguised gaze when he looked at her...
An absurd thought had been circling in her mind these past few days: 'Is this kid deliberately luring us into action?'
But the idea was too ridiculous. Both she and Mabui had tacitly avoided discussing it… who would actively seek to be kidnapped by Shinobi from another village?
Impossible. Absolutely impossible!
Yet now, looking at Makoto lying with his eyes closed, 'fast asleep' on the tatami, her heartbeat inexplicably quickened by half a beat. The fine golden hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
She couldn't shake the feeling that she had stepped into some kind of trap.
Samui crept closer, her hand forming a knife-hand strike. It was fast and precise, but not harsh, aimed at the back of Makoto's neck.
The force was controlled extremely lightly. As her fingertips touched his skin, she could even feel its warm elasticity… terrified of injuring this precious 'specimen'.
Thump…
A slight impact sound. A dull pain spread from Makoto's neck. Thanks to his robust physique, he didn't lose consciousness.
He continued pretending to sleep, his eyelashes casting shallow shadows under his lids. He even had time to mentally comment: 'The technique is quite standard, just the force is a bit too light.'
Samui's brows furrowed slightly, her thin lips pressed into a straight line, 'This kid doesn't look old, but his resistance to blows is quite strong.'
She bit her lower lip, raised her hand again, preparing for another strike… lest Makoto wake up midway and shout, alerting the nearby Konoha's Military Police Force.
The moment Makoto sensed the shadow covering him again, his eyes snapped open.
Although it didn't hurt much, he didn't want to keep taking chops to the neck.
Besides, cooperating a bit at this point would actually be more advantageous for future negotiations with the Raikage.
His pitch-black pupils reflected Samui's startled blue-green ones. He didn't speak, just slowly made a 'zipping' gesture over his own lips.
The silent gesture said: "I'll cooperate. Don't dawdle."
Samui's blue-green pupils contracted sharply.
The previous absurd suspicion exploded in her mind like an exploding tag. Makoto's calm, almost eerie reaction instantly confirmed her earlier guess.
But the arrow was already on the string, so she couldn't hesitate now. Mabui and the Kumogakure's spies lurking in Konoha were still waiting. Every second delayed increased the risk.
Without any further hesitation, she bent down and hoisted Makoto over her shoulder. Her movements were quick and steady, though her fingertips trembled slightly as she pressed his head against her chest.
She intended to use her chest to tightly muffle Makoto, preventing him from making any sound.
"Mmph…"
Makoto only felt two soft mounds suddenly press against him, firmly locking his cheeks between them.
A rich, milky scent mixed with a faint hint of cedar washed over him. The sense of pressure was like two warm pythons, constricting his breath… the pressure was simply off the charts.
He could even clearly feel the curve of Samui's chest rising and falling with her breath.
Even a stray strand of hair brushing past his ear from the side of her neck carried a slight itch.
Samui felt the warm breath against her chest. The tips of her usually aloof ears instantly flushed with a thin layer of red, the heat spreading to the roots.
Gritting her teeth, she quickened her pace, sweeping out of the hot spring guest room like a gust of wind, not even bothering to close the door. Her black cloak swept over the threshold, stirring up a cloud of snow mist.
The rushing night wind, carrying snow particles, stung her face like tiny knives.
She sprinted through the alleys on the edge of Konoha with Makoto slung over her shoulder. The perfect curves outlined by her black tight-fitting clothes traced smooth arcs under the moonlight, like a lightning bolt splitting the night, so fast they left only afterimages.
Makoto, clamped against her, cooperated perfectly, his breathing even and steady.
In an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Konoha, Mabui was pacing anxiously. The soles of her boots ground over frozen, cracked gravel, the gritty crunch echoing repeatedly in the empty warehouse.
It was like a countdown to a certain moment.
Her thumb repeatedly rubbed the copper buckle of her tool pouch, the surface polished bright… it was almost the planned extraction time.
If Samui didn't arrive soon, the Konoha's Military Police Force patrol would be wandering near this area. Every wasted second reduced their chance of success.
Moonlight streamed through a broken window in the corner, illuminating her clenched fist. Her knuckles were as white as if coated in ice.
Bang…
The moment the warehouse iron door was shoved open, wind and snow rushed in with a black figure.
Samui, carrying Makoto, her form-fitting black clothes heaving with her rapid breaths. Her blue-green pupils shone in the dimness like ice shards tempered with frost.
Hearing the noise, Mabui whirled around.
Seeing Samui and Makoto, the straight line of her mouth broke open abruptly. The light exploding in her eyes was brighter than the stars at night.
She spoke rapidly, "Did you alert the Anbu or the Konoha's Police?"
"No," Samui's voice was muffled, as if blocked by snow. The tips of her ears still showed un-faded redness, and her gaze was somewhat evasive.
Mabui stepped forward quickly, pulling a damp paper from her chest.
It carried the faint milky scent unique to her, soaked in a special knockout drug. She pressed it firmly over Makoto's mouth without hesitation.
Makoto felt a strong milky scent assail him, distinctly different from Samui's, mixed with a cloyingly sweet medicinal smell.
He felt his mind rapidly grow heavy, his eyelids as heavy as if filled with lead.
He instinctively prepared to buy some antidote from the [Player Shop], but forcefully restrained himself. After all, passing out now was for the best.
If these Kumogakure's people's plan went awry, his status as the 'kidnapped victim' would allow him to completely pin the blame on the Kumogakure's envoys. The main goal was to stay clean.
The thought barely finished before he completely relaxed his strength, letting his head loll against Samui's chest, 'falling unconscious'.
Seeing Makoto's steady breathing, Mabui commanded rapidly, "The rest of you, proceed according to the original plan! We're responsible for taking him away!"
The remaining Kumogakure's spies present said in unison, their voices low but filled with determination, like steel tempered in fire, "Forging Kumogakure's glory is our duty!"
They all clutched stacks of explosive tags in their hands, their fingertips white from the force… these people were prepared to use their lives to buy time for Konoha.
Mabui said no more. She shot a look at Samui. The two of them, along with the other few strongest Kumogakure's spies, carrying the 'unconscious' Makoto, quickly slipped out of the warehouse.
The figures of the departing group left a trail of uneven footprints in the heavy snow, but they were filled in by the swirling wind and snow within half a foot, as if no one had ever passed by.
The Kumogakure's spies responsible for the rear guard looked at the stacks of explosive tags in their hands, their eyes resolute.
Once Mabui and the others' presence completely vanished into the wind and snow, the lead spy growled, "Proceed according to the original plan!"
Countless figures instantly dispersed, melting into the streets and alleys of Konoha like water into the sea.
Their task was to create chaos throughout Konoha, causing destruction everywhere to delay the Konoha's Shinobi pursuing Mabui's group, once the Konoha Barrier Team detected the intrusion.
The scale of this operation was larger than their attempt years ago to kidnap the Kyubi's Jinchuriki, that red-haired girl from Uzushiogakure.
They had mobilized almost all the Kumogakure's spies lurking in Konoha.
A genius capable of awakening the Two Tomoe Sharingan at such a young age, if raised in Kumogakure, might very well become Kumogakure's own Shinobi of the End Times.
Even at the very least, the Land of Lightning would possess the Shinobi world's top-tier Kekkei Genkai.
To achieve this goal, sacrificing their lives was, in their view, worth it. Very much worth it.
On the main streets of Konoha, the Kumogakure's envoys responsible for misleading the Anbu and Root's members were still wandering around, buying time.