"Haven't the scouts returned yet?"
"No. It's been three hours now. They should report back every two hours." The gaunt Iwa shinobi shook his head grimly.
Inside the tent, a stocky Iwa shinobi with ruddy cheeks frowned. This was Taiseki, and he didn't like what he was hearing.
"They probably found something and got delayed," the gaunt shinobi offered weakly.
Taiseki's frown deepened. "Could something have happened to them?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Taiseki's fist slammed against the wooden table.
"Impossible. Absolutely impossible."
"We've sent out a dozen scouts—all of them skilled in stealth. If they all encountered trouble, how strong would the enemy have to be?" Taiseki's voice rose with agitation. "Not discovered. Not captured. Just... vanished. Without a single report."
He stood abruptly, pacing. Even if the Tsuchikage himself were here, it would be madness to claim he could neutralize a dozen elite scouts without a trace. When had the Hidden Leaf produced such a ninja?
Taiseki stopped mid-stride. "If another hour passes with no word, send out fresh scouts to investigate. Find out what happened to the others."
"Yes, Lord Taiseki," the gaunt shinobi bowed.
---
Five hundred meters away, Seiran crouched motionless on a thick branch, his Byakugan sweeping across Windmill Town below. His body was perfectly still—no chakra fluctuation, no movement. To any observer, he would have looked like part of the tree itself.
The town sprawled beneath the darkening sky, its famous windmills casting long shadows across the streets. But there was nothing peaceful about it now. Iwa shinobi moved through the streets like locusts, stripping buildings bare. Several bodies lay where they'd fallen—locals who'd resisted. Nobody had bothered to move them.
Seiran's eyes narrowed behind his passive expression.
"Two hundred, maybe more," he whispered. "An advance force, and from the state of this place, they arrived less than a day ago."
He exhaled slowly. War was a disease that spread to the weak first. The Land of Grass sat between the great powers like prey in a lion's den. Once fighting began, it became a battlefield, a hunting ground. Kusagakure had always known which way the wind blew—they bent to the strongest power, always. Their own shinobi who'd fought back lay dead in the streets.
For a moment, Seiran's thoughts drifted. He wondered what was happening in his old world. Big superpowers locked in sanctions and posturing, just like this. The strong always preyed on the weak, no matter what century or world you lived in.
The thought was fleeting. His attention snapped back to the tent as it erupted into activity.
---
"Still nothing?" Taiseki's voice was tight now, the calm slipping away. "Evening's falling. Where are my scouts?"
"The new team should be returning soon, Lord Taiseki," his officer replied, but even he didn't sound convinced.
Before Taiseki could respond, the tent flap burst open. A messenger practically fell through.
"Lord Taiseki! A situation!"
"Speak. Did the sensor find something?"
As the shinobi reported, Taiseki's eyes narrowed into slits. His jaw clenched. When the messenger finished, Taiseki rose slowly, a cold smile spreading across his face.
"Send out teams to encircle. Scatter them wide but maintain contact. I want that spy boxed in."
---
From his perch, Seiran watched through the Byakugan as Iwa shinobi poured from the tent in controlled chaos. He saw Taiseki barking orders, saw the pattern forming—teams moving outward, then curling, then... closing.
His eyes widened fractionally.
They knew.
Seiran moved immediately, dropping from the branch and sprinting toward what should have been a gap in their formation. His Rotting Wood Technique kept his presence muted, nearly invisible to standard detection. But these shinobi didn't rely on standard detection anymore.
He'd made it fifty meters when he realized the gap was closing. Not randomly. Deliberately. They were herding him.
"Damn!" The curse slipped out before he could stop it.
They had a sensor. A good one. Seiran changed direction, moving toward a different opening, but the Iwa shinobi shifted to meet him. Every move he made, they anticipated. The noose was tightening.
Seiran's mind raced. Over two hundred shinobi here, many of them jonin-level. Even with his Byakugan, even with flight, they had him pinned. The altitude for takeoff was too low—they'd shoot him down before he climbed high enough to escape. Fighting was suicide.
But neither was standing still.
He watched the encirclement close with mathematical precision. Every time he moved, the Iwa shinobi responded instantly. It wasn't luck. It wasn't guessing. Someone was reading his movements in real time.
Inside the command tent, Ishigami sat cross-legged with his eyes shut tight, sweat pouring down his face. He was the nexus—a sensor ninja of considerable skill, his mind linked to dozens of Iwa shinobi simultaneously.
"Twelve meters, three o'clock," he intoned, his voice strained. Each position update was a trickle of chakra flowing outward through his network.
"Six o'clock, moving southeast now."
"Adjusting positions," he continued, his breathing heavy. Maintaining this many connections at once was brutal. His chakra reserves were burning fast.
"Nine o'clock, moving toward the northern perimeter."
Taiseki listened to each report with cold satisfaction. He'd worked with Ishigami before. The sensor was good, but this scout was clearly excellent—good enough to sense a passive observation team and slip through their initial net. Good enough to use some kind of stealth technique that fooled most shinobi.
But not Ishigami.
"Well done," Taiseki said quietly, watching the encirclement tighten on the mental map forming in his head. "He won't escape."
Ishigami opened his eyes, pale and trembling, and managed a weak smile. "Don't worry, Lord Taiseki. He's completely surrounded. There's nowhere left to run."
Taiseki's smile turned sharp as a blade. "A Leaf Village scout, infiltrating Iwa territory. How bold." He flexed his fingers, already imagining the interrogation. "I didn't expect to catch such a prize. Make sure he's brought in alive—I have questions for him."
Above the darkening forest, Seiran felt the walls closing in. Every direction was cut off. Every gap sealed before he could reach it. He'd walked into a perfect trap, and now he was paying the price.
The net had tightened. And he was caught inside it.