Early morning.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting a spectrum of seven-colored light. The persistent mist filled the forest, dancing with the prismatic rays to create a surreal, dreamlike world.
Arata and Sanma had finished washing up and packing their gear, while Karin helped Hinami pack the tent.
"Ah... hah!"
Hinami crawled out of the tent, yawning. Her sleep quality had clearly been poor. To find the golden ratio between power, speed, and mass, she had experimented until the early hours of the morning before finally collapsing into sleep.
The results, however, were gratifying.
While she hadn't found the exact "bullseye" of that balance, she had managed to pin down a general range. Like an archery match, her arrow might not have hit the center, but it was firmly within the ten-point ring. The improvement was immense.
Simultaneously, she utilized the unique properties of the Shikotsumyaku—which could be as fluid as she willed or as rigid as steel. She stabilized the connections between her bones, ensuring that when her muscles were called upon for Taijutsu, the kinetic chain was more complete, and her body's load-bearing capacity was vastly increased.
By her own estimation, her combat effectiveness was at least double what it had been before. She labeled this current state "Perfect Combat Body 1.0," with upgrades to follow.
"Hinami, did you sleep poorly last night?"
Karin rolled up the tent and hoisted it onto her back. Seeing Hinami's constant yawning, she couldn't help but ask.
In the shinobi world, there was no room for the cliché of men doing the heavy lifting while women relaxed. As a medical ninja with the lowest combat power in the squad, it was Karin's duty to ensure the client's safety and shoulder a portion of the gear to unburden the primary combatants.
"I'm alright. Maybe I'm just excited to be going home soon."
"Hehe. We've still got two days to Peichuan Harbor," Arata said, counting on his fingers, his excitement for the Land of Fire evident. "Then seven or eight days by boat to the Land of Fire's coast, and a long trek after that to Tanzaku Quarters!"
Karin's eyes shone with longing. "I wonder what the Land of Fire, the strongest and most prosperous nation, actually looks like. Do you think I might run into Lady Tsunade there?"
"Stop dreaming, Karin," Sanma interjected. "Tanzaku Quarters is a famous pleasure district and a haven for gambling dens. Why would a legendary medical sage go to a place like that?"
"Exactly," Arata added, reaching a rare moment of agreement with Sanma.
Faced with the cold water poured on her dreams, Karin's head slumped, her long flaxen braids dangling dejectedly.
Hinami remained silent during the discussion. If Karin knew that her idol, the great Lady Tsunade, was actually a chronic gambler with legendary bad luck, she would probably be even more devastated.
I hope she never actually meets her.
"By the way, where's Sister Mari?" Karin asked, looking around.
"She went to retrieve the traps she set last night."
"How long has she been gone?"
Sanma's casual question was met with a heavy silence. The three students looked at one another, their expressions suddenly turning grim.
Mari held a kunai, carefully detaching a tripwire stretched between two branches.
Snap!
A highly resilient branch, which had been tied down and bent, recoiled instantly like a steel whip aimed straight for her face. She ducked backward, evading the strike. The branch whistled through the air, its tip snapping with the sound of a blade breaking the sound barrier.
Mari's blue eyes scanned the dense forest warily. This trap had originally been designed to launch kunai; she had spotted it early and removed the blades from the wire. Even so, the force was staggering. Without the lethal threat of the steel, the raw power of the branch would still be enough to incapacitate an unwary ninja.
She had gone out to retrieve her own traps this morning, only to find another set of traps laid very close to her perimeter.
The person who set these isn't an amateur, Mari concluded.
Judging by the lethality, the concealment, and the textbook use of foliage for camouflage, she was dealing with a battle-hardened elite. Furthermore, she felt a nagging sense of familiarity in the technique—as if she had seen this style somewhere before.
Wait, this looks like Anbu methodology.
Could it be Brother and his unit? Did we get that lucky?
A flash of joy crossed her eyes. She moved deeper into the woods, carefully tracking the hidden traps without disarming them. Sentry traps usually followed a pattern: they were never too far from the person who set them, or the setter wouldn't receive the signal when they were triggered.
Soon, Mari pinpointed the general area of the target and slipped inside the perimeter.
To her surprise, the Anbu she expected weren't there.
Hiding behind a tree, she observed a clearing where a girl in hemp clothing was extinguishing a campfire. The girl was pale and exceptionally beautiful. She held her palm over the embers, pressing down slightly.
The dancing flames died instantly. Mari's eyes widened with shock when she noticed something glinting in the ashes: ice crystals.
Is she...
BOOM!
Before Mari could process the thought, a massive black shadow hurtled toward her. It whistled through the air, aimed directly at her head.
Mari gasped, instinctively ducking. "Don't strike! I'm the sister of your Captain!"
The shadow roared over her, shredding branches before slamming into a thick tree trunk. Only then did she see it clearly.
Embedded in the tree was a massive cleaver. The blade was as wide as a door, featuring a circular cutout near the hilt and a semicircular indentation near the tip.
As a Hidden Mist ninja, Mari recognized it instantly: the Kubikiribōchō (Executioner's Blade), one of the Seven Ninja Swords of the Mist. It was famous for its ability to regrow from the iron in the blood of its victims—the "Unbreakable Sword."
And its current wielder was...
"Anbu scum?"
A silent blur flickered above her, casting a shadow over Mari. She looked up, her heart hammering.
Standing on a high branch was a man whose face was wrapped in bandages. He stood with his head tilted, his cold gaze looking down at her as if she were an ant waiting to be crushed.
The "Demon of the Hidden Mist," Zabuza Momochi.
The butcher who had slaughtered over a hundred of his fellow students during the graduation exam, forcing the village to change its policies. The elite who had attempted to assassinate the Mizukage and escaped to become an S-rank rogue ninja, evading the Anbu for years.
In an instant, the mist in the air grew thick and suffocating, until not a single soul could be seen. An invisible killing intent, heavy with the scent of blood, buried Kurio Mari where she stood.
Mari awkwardly licked her dry lips, swallowing the mention of her brother's name.
My luck is really terrible.