The message did not arrive by bird or seal.
It arrived by absence.
The eastern patrol failed to report at dawn.
At first, no one panicked. Delays happened. Fog swallowed sound. Shinobi misjudged time. But when the second watch cycle passed with no flare and no chakra signal, the unease crept in subtle, cold, unwelcome.
By midday, Kozan felt it.
A distortion at the edge of his awareness. Not pain. Not fear. A missing weight, like a stone removed from a structure that had not yet realized it was unstable.
Mei summoned him without ceremony.
"They're gone," she said simply.
Chōjūrō stood near the map table, pale. "Six shinobi. Experienced. One sensor-type."
Kozan nodded once.
Mei watched him closely. "This isn't coincidence."
"No," he agreed. "It's a test."
"By who?"
Kozan's gaze settled on the eastern border markings. "Someone who wanted to know if I would notice."
Mei's jaw tightened. "Then we respond."
"Yes," Kozan said. "But not loudly."
Fog Without Footprints
The shoreline was quiet.
Too quiet.
Mist clung low to the rocks, unmoving, like it was being held in place by invisible hands. The sea lapped gently against stone, unconcerned.
Kozan crouched near the last known patrol point.
No blood.
No broken seals.
No chakra residue from a struggle.
"They were taken cleanly," Mei murmured.
"Or they walked," Kozan replied.
Chōjūrō frowned. "Walked where?"
Kozan stood.
"Out of range."
He stepped forward and the mist parted for him.
Not dramatically. Not unnaturally. Just enough to reveal a narrow path of disturbed ground, barely visible unless you knew what to look for.
Mei followed his gaze.
"Someone wanted us to find this."
"Yes," Kozan said. "And wanted me to follow."
She met his eyes. "That could be a trap."
"It is."
"And you're going anyway."
"Yes."
Mei didn't argue.
She only said, "Then I'm coming."
Kozan hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then nodded.
The Clearing
The path led inland, winding through rock and wet forest until the mist thinned into something stranger a clearing where fog pooled unnaturally low, dense enough to hide feet but thin above the waist.
Six figures knelt in a circle.
Alive.
Bound, but unharmed.
Kozan felt the shift immediately the way chakra patterns layered over one another, hiding something just out of phase. He stepped forward slowly.
A voice spoke from everywhere at once.
"You came."
Mei's hand dropped to her blade.
Kozan didn't react.
A figure emerged from the fog.
Not masked. Not armored. Wearing simple, dark clothing practical, unmarked, forgettable. Their face was plain in the way people trained to be overlooked often were.
"I wondered if you would," the figure said.
Kozan stopped ten paces away.
"You took my people," he said calmly.
"Yes."
"Why?"
The figure smiled faintly. "To see if you would ask before killing me."
Mei bristled.
Kozan tilted his head slightly. "You wanted conversation."
"I wanted confirmation."
"Of what?"
"That you're still you."
The fog thickened.
The figure continued, "There are those who remember the early projects. The ones before the villages pretended to be civilized. We've watched you for a long time, Kozan."
Mei's breath caught.
Kozan felt nothing except the faint echo of recognition again.
"You're not one of them," he said.
"No," the figure admitted. "But we inherit their messes."
The figure gestured subtly.
The six captured shinobi stirred but did not cry out.
"You are… unfinished," the figure said carefully. "And that makes you dangerous."
Mei stepped forward. "You don't get to judge"
Kozan raised a hand.
Silence.
He looked at the figure. "You took them to provoke me."
"Yes."
"And now?"
"Now," the figure said softly, "we see what you do when someone finally reaches for you."
The fog rolled inward.
Kozan's mist rose to meet it.
Two silences collided.
Choice
Kozan could feel it the tension balancing on a single decision.
He could strike.
End this before it began.
Show the world what it feared and let that fear keep people distant.
Or
He exhaled slowly.
"You should leave," he said.
The figure blinked. "That's it?"
"You've made your point."
"And the prisoners?"
Kozan glanced at the kneeling shinobi.
"They walk free."
The figure studied him intently. "And if we don't?"
Kozan's mist sharpened not expanding, not flaring, but condensing into something dense and cold.
"Then you won't walk away."
The clearing held its breath.
Finally, the figure snapped their fingers.
The bindings dissolved.
The six shinobi collapsed, gasping, alive and whole.
The figure stepped back into the fog.
"We'll be watching," the voice said, fading. "Not as enemies. Not yet."
Then they were gone.
The fog thinned.
The clearing emptied.
Mei turned to Kozan slowly.
"That wasn't strength," she said quietly.
"No," he replied. "It was restraint."
She searched his face. "How long can you keep choosing that?"
Kozan looked out into the forest, where the fog still lingered in patches like unresolved thoughts.
"As long as they let me," he said.
And deep underground, far from Mist and Stone alike, something listened.
And smiled.