Don't enter this building. Don't.
Their eyes locked again. Matsamaru's expression shifted—an unspoken fear blooming in his chest.
---
Meanwhile…
Chimaru, Henji, Akira, Hiro, and Shino walked together in a sluggish group. Fatigue painted their faces, their clothes dusty from travel.
Chimaru groaned, "Ughh… we don't seem to be progressing. It feels like we've been walking in circles."
Henji muttered, dragging his feet,
"I didn't know this village was this huge from the outside through the inside—wait…"
Hiro, unbothered and oddly cheerful, chuckled.
"You're not making any sense, Henji-san."
Henji glared at him, "Ughhh... do you want to die?"
Hiro just smiled,
"Nope. Not today, Henji-san."
They continued bickering and teasing as they trudged along.
But then—Chimaru, leading at the front, suddenly stopped.
The others bumped into him with a series of oofs and grunts.
All of them looked ahead.
Something was wrong.
Chimaru furrowed his brow, deep in thought as the group halted.
"Come to think of it… at the warehouse…" he began slowly, "When I entered that building to help the villager… the one calling for help…"
Akiro, detached as ever, cut in coldly,
"There was no villager. You walked right into a trap."
Chimaru's face tensed, but he kept talking.
"But the inside—it was massive. Like… bigger than a palace. Way too big for a small storage warehouse. The space felt unreal."
Akiro turned to him. "Chimaru…"
Before Chimaru could respond,
WHACK!!
A heavy smack landed on his head like a falling boulder. He yelped, clutching his skull.
"OWWW!! What the hell was that for!?"
Akiro didn't even flinch.
"You fool. You didn't tell us any of this earlier? That kind of information could've given Haru and Matsamaru a warning. You waited until now?"
He clicked his tongue. "Tch… useless."
Hiro, still smiling despite everything, chimed in,
"Akiro-san, you're starting to sound like Shino-san right now…"
Before Hiro could blink—THUD!
Akiro's hand smacked his head too. Hiro staggered and clutched it with a groan.
"Fool. Don't tell me how to act right now!!"
Henji suddenly spoke, eyes scanning around,
"Wait a second… Speaking of which… where's Shino?"
They all turned behind them.
And there—far ahead on the ground—Shino lay unconscious, motionless.
"SHINO!!"
All of them, except Akiro, screamed and bolted toward him in panic.
Akiro stayed behind, his face unreadable as he turned away, muttering to himself—
"Another one down... this mission's spiraling out of control."
They reached Shino, who lay flat on the ground, face caked in dust, robe tattered slightly from the fall. His eyes opened slowly, squinting at the blurry shapes above him.
"Chimaru…" he muttered weakly.
Chimaru, now panicked, crouched beside him and held his face, concerned.
"Shino! Are you okay!? What happened—"
SMACK!!
A sudden brutal hit landed on Chimaru's head. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed beside Shino, unconscious.
Shino sat up, eyes blazing with frustration.
"You bastard..." he spat, "You kept all the important info to yourself. Thought you could coast through on that stupidity?"
Dust still coated half his face, but he didn't seem to care. He stood up slowly, wiped down his robe with a sharp slap, and muttered under his breath:
"Tch… amateur."
Without another word, he began walking away, robe flowing behind him.
The rest of the team just stared in silence, watching Shino's back as he walked off. None of them dared point out the thick trail of dust still stuck to his face.
Hiro, ever smiling, sighed as he grabbed Chimaru's unconscious body by both hands and began dragging him along.
"Let's go, I guess…" he said casually.
They continued the walk.
One down, tensions rising, and the village deeper than ever.
Back at Haru and Matsamaru…
The wind had died. Dust hung still in the air.
Haru stood silently in front of the open doorway—dark, ancient, and unsettling. Matsamaru stood a step behind him, anxiety creeping into his bones.
They hadn't spoken for a while, the silence thick like fog.
Matsamaru glanced at Haru's back, torn between yelling at him not to go or following him in without question.
Haru took a slow, deliberate step forward, eyes locked onto the darkness inside.
But just before his foot touched the threshold…
—A sharp, fast-paced footstep echoed behind them.
The air shifted.
Haru's step was frozen midair.
A figure appeared— racing toward them, but not at Haru… at Matsamaru.
The figure was cloaked in a black kimono, face marked with a swirling ripple tattoo across his blind, pale-white eyes. A metal chain coiled around his body, rattling with every step like a monk's staff.
Matsamaru spotted him—but too late.
His body couldn't move.
"HARU!!!" he screamed, his voice breaking the silence.
But as Haru turned his head in alarm—the door vanished.
There was no opening, no entrance—only an old wooden wall, rotting like it belonged to an abandoned Japanese shrine.
A faint purple light seeped through the cracks of the walls, filling the building around Haru.
The door was never a door.
It was the trap.
And now, he was inside it—alone.
Matsamaru crashed to the ground, his body flipping violently like it had been struck by lightning. Sparks of pain danced through his nerves. "Tch… Ugh," he hissed, breath ragged.
Knees dug into the dirt, hands trembling, he felt the vibration of footsteps closing in. A shadow loomed. The cold echo of chains rattled in his ears. He slowly lifted his gaze—
A figure stood over him. Silent. Towering. Ominous.
Meanwhile…
Shino's squad pushed forward through the ghostly streets of the abandoned village. Their steps dragged, legs heavy like lead. Dust swirled in the air, clinging to their robes. The wind was dead.
The silence was loud.
Suddenly, a figure emerged ahead of them—still, distant, and centered in the narrow street. The air stiffened. Hiro stopped, letting go of Chimaru's arms with a soft thud.
He smiled nervously. "Shino-san… who's that?"
Shino barked back without hesitation, "Like I know, fool!"
Akiro's expression didn't change—cold and unreadable. His eyes scanned the figure's posture. "Oi… that doesn't look like a bandit. He's too composed."
Hiro tilted his head slightly, voice light but uneasy. "Haru-san and Matsamaru-san said something about honeki… If he's a ninja… do we die?"
Henji, usually the joker, turned to Hiro with dead-serious eyes and a dramatic pause.
"Do we die?" he repeated, then squinted at him. "You said it like we even get a vote."
He threw his hands in the air. "Welcome to the 'might-die-any-second' club. Membership is free, benefits include trauma!"
Hiro blinked. "Do we get jackets?"
Henji scoffed. "Yeah. Body bags."
Shino yelled, "Are you guys out of your minds?! There's a dead-eyed creep standing right in front of us and you're all just—wait… do we get jackets?"
Akiro rolled his eyes, arms crossed. "This is exactly why I pretended not to know you during training."
Henji nodded seriously. "Yeah, we get jackets. Plus a free cap… for your next of kin."
Hiro, still smiling and blinking innocently, asked, "Wait… what's a cap?"
Just then, Chimaru—who'd been limp like a ragdoll—suddenly sprang up like the Undertaker, eyes wide and confused.
Everyone jumped.
Chimaru croaked, "Did someone say… free jacket?"
Shino just stared, contemplating if falling into the enemy's arms would be easier than leading this circus.
His face was a portrait of defeat, like a man already swallowed by fate. Around them, murmurs swelled into restless noise—Akiro stood motionless, eyes shut, as if blocking out the chaos.
Henji leaned in, spinning wild tales to Chimaru about how to snag a free jacket—clearly nonsense. Meanwhile, Hiro's voice cut through the air, repeatedly asking what a "cap" was, met only with silence.
In their world, a jacket wasn't just clothing—it was a symbol. Crafted from rare fabrics, unveiled by Givnom, worn only by emperors and officials during grand hunts.
And the cap? A ridiculous little neck guard meant to shield the throat from assassins—so absurd, no one bothered to explain further.
The enemy before them smirked, muttering under his breath, "Kids? What's the boss thinking? Sending an S-rank against these amateurs should be a massacre."
His short black hair peeked from beneath a worn straw hat, dead eyes heavy with boredom, like he'd rather be asleep. Draped in a blue kimono, he gripped a spear taller than himself—calm, poised, and deadly.
He grinned, leaning forward as he watched them from afar. Turning to the small monkey perched on his shoulder, he whispered, "Well then, shall we? Sakura."