Chương 188

As we left the Hokage's office with the mission scroll in hand, Shisui told us to go home and prepare before meeting him at the village gate in one hour. We dispersed quickly, checked our gear, restocked essentials, and made sure everything was in order. Exactly an hour later we stood by the gate, the sky bright and cold above the walls of Konoha. Shisui was already waiting, his focus settled into place. Without wasting time he formed a hand seal and sent chakra into the mission scroll.

The ink lines stirred for a moment, then stilled as he read. His voice shifted into the tone he used when there was no room for error.

"We move northeast toward the borders of the Land of Rivers. Once we arrive, there is a storage seal inside this scroll that we will activate. The detailed instructions are stored within." I frowned.

"That sounds strange."

"Not at all," Shisui said.

"High-level missions separate information for security. The storage seal here is advanced and it cannot be opened without a specific process. Even a small mistake will destroy the contents." I nodded. Shisui looked at each of us in turn, me, Sena, and Kaen.

"Take your soldier pills every six hours on the mark. Until this mission ends, keep your chakra steady and your focus sharp." We answered together, and the mood shifted from routine to serious. The air outside Konoha's gate was crisp and carried a faint chill. The guards waved us through after a brief greeting, and soon the village walls were gone behind the trees. The road ahead wound through rows of cedar and maple that leaned and whispered in the wind.

The smell of damp earth and wood carried that familiar sense of home every shinobi learns to miss. The first day passed in calm silence. Broad plains spread on both sides of the road, dotted with rice terraces and small roadside shrines where travelers left coins for protection. By the second day the wide light of the Fire Country dimmed beneath thick canopies. The sound of cicadas faded, replaced by the steady rush of distant waterfalls.

The path climbed into the northern foothills along an old trade route once used by merchants before the Second Shinobi War. Cracked stone bridges crossed shallow streams, their edges coated in moss that crept over the guard rails carved long ago by patient hands. By the third day the air cooled. Mist gathered in the valleys, soft and persistent. We passed a few patrol stations marked with the Fire Daimyo's crest, each half hidden among the rocks. Some looked empty, towers standing like forgotten sentinels.

Wild camellias bloomed along the slopes, red petals shaking loose and drifting underfoot. Step by step the world around us grew quieter, as if sound itself had been left behind. On the fourth day the trail narrowed into a hunter's path that twisted between roots and ferns. The light dimmed even though it was still morning. The trees here were ancient, their trunks so wide a person could hide behind them with room to spare. The air was thick with the smell of rain and moss, the ground soft and uneven.

Shisui paused once and searched the stillness ahead. The Land of Forest lay just beyond the ridge, a place where mist rarely lifted and the woods swallowed every sound. We crossed the ridge and walked into a low veil of fog that clung to the ground. The air grew colder and heavier, and the faint sound of running water led us forward. Not long after, the trees opened into a clearing shaped by a narrow stream. The ground was damp, covered with moss that glistened where thin light slipped through the leaves.

Ferns leaned over the bank, their fronds dripping into the current in a slow rhythm. The air smelled clean and sharp, wet stone and wood after rain. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Shisui's gaze moved across the clearing and settled on a mossy rock beside the stream. A small symbol had been carved into its surface, faint but deliberate. Only he would know to look for it. It matched the coded mark described in the mission scroll.

I looked around, uneasy. Something about this place did not sit right. I pushed my chakra outward to feel the area, the same way I always did, but it was like throwing a net into deep water and getting no pull at all. My chakra did not come back or ripple through the trees. It vanished, swallowed by the air itself.

"That is strange," I said quietly.

"It feels like this place does not exist." Shisui did not answer right away. He flexed his fingers and shifted his stance, sending small pulses of chakra through his body. I could see the hesitation, the tiny stutter in the flow. The air here pushed back, a thin pressure that resisted every attempt to shape it. His expression hardened.

"A chakra disturbance," he said in a low voice.

"Natural or not, this clearing is dead to sensing." The mist curled close to the ground. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath. Sena spoke first.

"Sensei, should we retreat?" Shisui shook his head.

"No. This is a chakra distortion area. Places like this are full of natural energy that interferes with control. They can weaken jutsu slightly and block sensory abilities. High-level operations sometimes use them to hide movement or escape enemy sensors." His eyes kept moving as he spoke.

"We still cannot rule out a trap. I will open the seal, retrieve the mission details, and then decide whether to circle around this place." He bit his finger, drew a line of blood, and worked through a long string of hand seals. Each motion was slow and exact. When he pressed his hand to the storage mark on the scroll, the air began to hum as he fed it chakra. The interference made control difficult. The flow flickered and he forced it steady, his brow tight with focus.

One misstep and the seal would trigger its failsafe and erase everything inside. It was designed for that. A captured operative could appear to comply, then let a small mistake wipe the data before the enemy could obtain it. Time stretched before the scroll finally responded. A low sound filled the air, followed by a puff of smoke that released a folded map. Shisui opened it and studied the markings carefully before nodding.

"It makes sense now. This contains routes and locations for several border outposts. In the wrong hands, this could cause heavy losses for Konoha." As he spoke, a weight crept over me. It did not come from the forest. It came from him. I tried to focus, but the distortion dulled everything. I tried coating my eyes with chakra to see more clearly, but the technique slipped apart in my hands. The field made a difficult skill nearly impossible.

"Sensei, I…" I muttered uncertainly, then stopped. Shisui looked over, calm but focused.

"What is it, Noa? Say it."

"I'm not sure," I said, forcing the words out.

"But I felt something, just for a moment. Like a seal moved onto you from that map. I can't see it, and the distortion here is blocking everything. I can't confirm it." His expression changed immediately, eyes sharpening as his hand moved toward the scroll.

"You're certain?"

"I'm not," I said quickly, shaking my head.

"It could be nothing, but…" Before I could finish, the ground trembled. The mist shifted, yet there was no wind. A ripple spread through the soil beneath our feet, faint but wrong. Before any of us could react, a dark figure dropped out of the fog like a falling shadow, landing hard with both hands already pressed to the ground. His face was hidden behind a black ox mask with narrow crimson eye slits, and his armor carried the insignia of Kumogakure's ANBU. The chakra surge hit before sound.

"Earth Release: Ground Dragon." The ground split open as the jutsu took shape. The soil heaved and coiled upward, twisting into the form of a colossal dragon's head carved from solid stone. Its features were sharp and angular, the surface crisscrossed with glowing veins of chakra that pulsed like molten light. The sheer pressure of its creation made the air vibrate, the surrounding mist rippling. In the next instant, the dragon fired.

A blast of compressed stone projectiles erupted from its maw, each one propelled with such force that the air screamed in their wake. The barrage tore through the mist in rapid succession, their glowing trails burning from the friction-heated air. They shot forward in a straight line, aimed directly at Shisui and at us behind him, too fast for any of us to react. Shisui's Sharingan flared to life in a fraction of a second, instinct taking over before thought could form.