The night was still when the Shorihana Clan leader handed Kuzuri the sealed letter. His expression was carved from stone, his words heavy. "Deliver this to the Daimyō of the Land of Earth. No delays. If it is captured, you burn it before you die."
Kuzuri, tall and poised, gave a single nod. "Understood."
Beside her stood Ishiro, lean and quiet, a master tracker whose senses caught the faintest tremor of disturbed earth. The youngest, Ren, shifted impatiently, eager yet tense. His speed and precision with shuriken were unmatched among his peers, but this was no training ground — failure here would be very dangerous for the Shorihana clan.
Before dawn, the three slipped out of Iwagakure through a cliffside path known only to clan scouts. The jagged wilderness of the Land of Earth lay ahead, its stone ridges like the backs of sleeping beasts. For two days they traveled without pause, using dried riverbeds, scaling narrow ledges, and sleeping only in shadowed cracks in the rock.
By the third night, the air grew heavy. Ishiro slowed, scanning the cliffs. "Something's wrong. No wind, no birds."
Kuzuri's eyes flicked upward. "We're being watched."
A whistle cut through the silence — a kunai slammed into the ground by Ren's feet. Six figures appeared above them, leaping down in unison. They wore no village insignia, only black armor beneath travel cloaks. Arano's spies.
"You're far from home," their leader said coldly. "Hand over what you carry."
Kuzuri's hand moved in a blur — smoke bomb — the pass filled with choking haze. Ishiro sprang up the cliff, taking the high ground in seconds. Ren darted right, baiting two enemies into a rock choke point.
The clash was sudden and brutal. Ren kicked off the wall, twisting midair to unleash three shuriken. One buried itself in an enemy's throat, another in the gap under an arm. The third clipped a shoulder, staggering its target just long enough for Ren's kunai to finish him.
On the upper slope, Ishiro fought like a ghost, striking from shadows. One spy tumbled down the cliff, neck broken. But the enemy leader was skilled, holding Kuzuri in a tight exchange of kunai strikes, sparks flying in the moonlight.
"You won't make it to the Daimyō," he growled.
"Then I'll make it over your corpse," Kuzuri replied, parrying with bone-snapping force. She slammed her elbow into his jaw, followed with a slash across the throat, and he collapsed silently.
The fight was over in moments, but not without cost. Ren's arm bled freely, and Ishiro's breathing was heavy. "We have been tracked , surely now the Tsuchikage will known about it , still we can't let our enemy know the content of the letter" Kuzuri said. "We move. Double pace."
They pushed through the next day without rest, but by dusk, shadows began to stalk them again — three shapes on the ridge, keeping distance. At nightfall, the pursuit became an attack.
In the black mouth of a canyon, kunai clinked against stone as a rain of steel fell from above. Ishiro shouted, "Ambush!" and shoved Ren aside just as an explosive tag detonated, showering them with debris.
The canyon walls amplified every sound — footsteps, breathing, the hiss of a blade cutting air. Ren spun, barely deflecting a tanto aimed at his back. Kuzuri's kunai flashed in the darkness, striking sparks off rock as she met two attackers head-on. Ishiro used the shadows, vanishing and reappearing to slit a throat before the victim even realized he was there.
One enemy tried to escape up the wall — Ren hurled a shuriken with perfect timing, pinning the man's hand to the rock before finishing him with a second throw.
When the last body hit the ground, Kuzuri didn't slow. "We keep moving. If they send another team, we won't get a second chance."
Two days later, gaunt from exhaustion, they reached the outer gates of the Daimyō's capital. The captain of the guard blocked their way. "All who enter are searched."
Kuzuri stepped forward, voice cutting like steel. "Summon the Daimyō's seal-bearer. This message is for his hands alone. Touch it, and you answer for treason."
Minutes later, they were led into the great hall. The Daimyō sat in crimson robes, gaze unreadable. Kuzuri knelt, presenting the letter. "From the Shorihana Clan, my lord. A matter of utmost urgency."
He took the seal without a word, slipping it into his sleeve. Outside, the sun was setting — but somewhere in the mountains, Arano's spies would already be realizing they had failed.
The mission was complete… but the game it had started was far from over.
Somewhere deep within the labyrinthine corridors of Iwagakure, a lone shadow detached itself from the darkness. An ANBU operative, masked and silent, dropped to one knee before a middle-aged man seated at a low desk piled with scrolls. The man's bearing spoke of quiet authority — one who commanded from behind the scenes.
"Report," the man said without looking up.
The ANBU's voice was low and precise. "Several shinobi from the Shorihana Clan departed the village under concealment. We dispatched two teams of mercenary spies to intercept them… but both have been eliminated."
The man finally raised his gaze, eyes narrowing. "So… they're moving under their clan's orders." He leaned back slightly, fingers drumming against the wood. "Even if we couldn't stop them, learning that the Shorihana are engaged in some secret operation is valuable enough."
He reached for a scroll, dipping his brush into ink with slow deliberation. "We'll inform the Tsuchikage immediately. Once he knows, we'll decide our next move… and if these Shorihana believe they can slip through our net twice, they're mistaken."
The ANBU bowed his head lower. "Understood."
The middle-aged man's lips curled faintly — not in amusement, but in calculation. The hunt was far from over.