The Silent Village bathed under the glowing noon sun, its peace broken only by the distant hum of crickets echoing in the still air. Footsteps pressed into the warm earth, the soft crunch of sand beneath worn soles marking their path.
Haru led the group in silence, his stride unwavering. Behind him, Henji leaned heavily on Matsamaru for support, one arm slung across the latter's shoulders. Akira trailed a few steps behind, arms folded, expression unreadable—his silence carried the weight of everything unspoken.
Hiro walked beside Shino, his arm tightly wrapped in a robe strip, trying to suppress the bleeding. He tugged it once more, wincing slightly.
"Matsamaru-san," Hiro said, glancing ahead, "you should bind your wounds too. I mean… it's your wrist. Veins and all. You could bleed out, you know."
Matsamaru gave a soft smile, his tone light despite the fatigue in his voice. "Our clan is known for high regenerative Honeki. Even if I've lost a lot, it'll patch itself up soon enough."
Henji let out a tired chuckle. "Guess you're not the only miracle here. Hey, you think we'll make it? Become shadow ninjas?"
Matsamaru smiled faintly, eyes on the path ahead. "Yeah... for sure."
The breeze carried their hope forward, but the air felt heavier with every step.
Shino finally spoke, his voice cutting through the dragging silence.
"Haru..."
Haru didn't turn. Didn't flinch.
Shino tried again, louder. "Haru!"
Still no answer. But then he realized—he didn't need to shout. Haru was listening.
He always was.
"Oi," Shino said more calmly, "What did you do back there?"
Everyone's attention shifted. All eyes were on Haru—except Haru's.
He kept walking.
"That pale guy," Shino continued, his tone laced with caution, "was far more dangerous than anything we've ever seen. Commanding death like it was air... bending time and space like paper. Yet you... persuaded him. How?"
Matsamaru's gaze fell to the ground, his face dimming.
The words echoed in his mind like a curse:
"You only died for three seconds... yet you spent over a trillion years in the afterlife..."
Henji noticed the change in him and quickly stepped in.
"Haru-san's smart," he said, loud enough for the group.
"Maybe he tricked him... or completely manipulated him."
Hiro, arms still faintly bleeding, added quietly,
"That Hinami guy... he seemed pretty devoted to Haru. This isn't the first time a mission nearly shattered. It always ends up like this… when Haru's involved."
He glanced at Shino and the others.
"This is your first time. But for him..."
He looked at Haru's back.
"...It never really ends."
Shino rolled his eyes toward Hiro. "So this isn't the first time he became a target for some rogue organization?"
Hiro gave a small, knowing smile. "No... this is the first time he was labeled a target. Usually, the missions just end up spiraling into something way above the rank we were assigned." He paused, exhaling. His shoulders felt light, almost too light.
"...Eh? I forgot my sword."
Everyone—except Haru—turned to him.
"Huh?" Matsamaru blinked. "Same here... I haven't seen my sword since that fight with the demons..."
Henji raised his brow, lifting his one arm. "Mine's gone too. Lost it in the void, I think."
A brief silence passed between them... before they all broke into laughter, the tension melting if only for a moment.
Still chuckling, Matsamaru reached toward his waist and untied Haru's Kurugisama
"Guess this is the only weapon that made it back," he said, holding it up with a grin.
---
Haru didn't even turn back, though Matsamaru now held the Kurugisama in his hand — as if Haru had already accounted for it.
Akira finally broke the silence.
"Where's Chimaru?"
Everyone's attention shifted — all but Haru, who kept walking, untouched by the question.
Hiro quickened his pace, moving beside Akira.
"Akira-san… when did you black out?"
Akira was quiet for a moment, then answered with a blank stare:
"Two days ago."
The group froze mid-step.
"EHH?!!" They all exclaimed, faces twisted in shock. The realization hit like thunder — they'd been traveling with a fake Akira the whole time.
Akira looked at them, confused.
"What? Wasn't the difference obvious? You should've known it wasn't me."
A beat of awkward silence passed.
They all let out a nervous chuckle.
"Ri…right…" Matsamaru muttered, scratching the back of his head.
Even Henji nodded, lips twitching into an embarrassed grin.
Hiro sighed.
"We're really in trouble if that thing could fool all of us."
Still… Haru didn't say a word.
Did he know all along?
Hiro placed both hands behind his neck, eyes toward the sky.
"We have no idea where Chimaru is, by the way… And considering he wielded the Mizuno Kōban, it must be hell for him right now."
A heavy silence fell over the group.
Henji finally broke it.
"What do you mean, Hiro?"
Hiro lowered his arms slowly, his voice quieter now.
"The Mizuno Kōban isn't some flashy water technique. It's a cursed legacy. The original user—Bizu Omi—paid for it with his eyes, his ears, and eventually… his organs. Chimaru tapped into something ancient. Something that wasn't meant for him."
Akira narrowed his eyes.
"So you're saying… he's suffering?"
Hiro nodded.
"More than suffering. The Mizuno Kōban pulls from a place beyond our realm. Every time he uses it, he touches that world — and it touches back."
Matsamaru looked down.
"And if he doesn't tap back..."
"Then Chimaru might already be dead,"
Shino added flatly.
Still, Haru kept walking. Silent. Focused.
Henji clenched his fist.
"Then we find him. Even if he's in that realm… we'll drag him out of it."
No one argued. They all nodded.
Whatever came next — it wouldn't be easy.
Then Haru stopped.
He didn't speak. He didn't move.
The others halted instinctively, as if their bodies responded to a weight in the air only Haru could feel first.
A lone figure stood ahead—still, silent, just beyond the shimmer of heat on the dusty road.
Hiro slowly lowered his arms from behind his neck, stepping slightly forward. The air felt wrong.
Akira narrowed his gaze, trying to focus.
"I… I can't sense any Honeki."
Hiro's voice was low, tense.
"That's because it isn't Honeki… It's Tao. An elemental surge of energy drawn from existence itself... No…"
Matsamaru's eyes widened as he took a single step back.
"That robe… it can't be…"
A gust of wind blew gently across the path, lifting the figure's sleeve slightly.
"Chimaru."
The name escaped from Matsamaru's lips like a gasp.
But Chimaru didn't speak. He stood there, head tilted slightly forward, his robe now faded—soaked in something far more ancient than blood or sweat. His presence felt heavier than ever before.
Something had changed. Something fundamental.
Before comprehension could even settle in—
Chimaru appeared.
Not walked. Not stepped.
Appeared in their midst.
His presence sliced through space itself, the air cracking like glass under pressure. The others were still staring at his after-image ahead—eyes wide, frozen in the moment between instinct and disbelief.
Time felt locked.
No sound. No thought.
Only the gleam of a blade mid-swing.
Chimaru's sword was already at Hiro's head—
The steel kissed skin.
A slice. A flicker of blood.
Then—BOOM.
A shockwave pulsed out.
Haru's fist connected with Chimaru's back, launching him like a comet into the village walls, obliterating buildings in a thunderous crash.
The world resumed.
All at once—
Sound. Wind. Breathing.
An explosion erupted behind them. The ground trembled. Dust lifted.
Haru was gone.
They spun around in alarm—
And saw him.
Standing behind them. Calm. Unmoving. His sleeve slowly falling back into place.
Hiro slowly raised his hand to his cheek—
A line of blood trailed down his fingers.
"What… the hell… was that…?".