The moon was bright, the stars sparse.
Ancient trees reached into the darkness, their dense, jagged branches casting shadows that looked like terrifying skeletal figures reaching out in the pale moonlight. Even the moths seemed fearful, desperately diving toward the only source of light in the deep forest—a small campfire. But before they could reach the warmth, they were pinned to the tree trunks by unseen senbon.
Kurio Mari plucked a senbon from a trunk, flicking away a moth that was still feasting on its final moments.
Okamura Arata fanned the flames. The chicken skin, roasted to a pale brown, glistened with fine oil. Droplets of fat sizzled as they hit the embers, releasing an intoxicating aroma.
Having survived the encounter with Zabuza, Hinami and the others sat around the fire, discussing the day's narrow escape.
"Hinami, let me tell you, it was incredibly dangerous. If I hadn't stepped up at the last second with my Fire Style..." Arata gestured wildly, reliving the moment.
"Brother Arata is so amazing," Hinami said, her eyes fixed on the rotating chicken. She swallowed her saliva, providing just enough emotional validation to keep Arata going.
"Hinami, don't listen to his bragging," Kamine Karin interrupted, rolling her eyes at Arata's inflated ego.
Sanma, seeing that Karin had already handled the reality check, turned his attention to the roasting chicken and then to the serious expression on Mari's face. "What's wrong, Sister Mari?"
Mari shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just wondering why Zabuza let us go."
She still felt a lingering chill from the morning's encounter. If the "Demon" hadn't decided to leave for some unknown reason, they would all be corpses in the mist by now.
Why was Zabuza there? Does it have to do with the mysterious disappearances at the top of the village? And that Ice Style user... where did he come from?
Questions tangled in her mind like a massive knot.
"Stop thinking about it. We're all safe—isn't that the best outcome? Can we eat yet?" Hinami's youthful voice cut through the tension.
Looking at the cute girl rubbing her hands together like a hungry little thief, Mari couldn't help but smile. She pushed her doubts to the back of her mind. "Maybe a few more minutes."
Arata checked the bird and nodded, though Hinami—with her Byakugan—knew it was already done. Arata's Fire Style was impressive, but his cooking was strictly average.
As they chatted, the conversation drifted toward the Ice Style ninja.
"What a shame we didn't kill that Ice monster," Arata muttered, slapping his thigh in frustration.
"Don't worry," Mari said, her voice dropping. Mentioning Kekkei Genkai users brought a fierce, unfamiliar light to her blue eyes. Her beautiful features twisted with a raw, undisguised murderous intent. "Sooner or later, we'll wipe all those monsters out."
"What's wrong with Kekkei Genkai ninjas?" Hinami asked, tilting her head.
"They're monsters. They aren't human," Karin whispered, glancing at Mari. "Sister Mari's family was killed by—"
"Karin!" Sanma cut her off with a sharp look. Karin bit her lip and fell silent, seeing the dark shadow crossing Mari's face.
Hinami chose not to push further.
"Alright, alright! The chicken is done! Let's eat!" Arata shouted, trying to force the mood back to normal as he carved the bird with a kunai.
"Here, Hinami."
Taking the wooden skewer, Hinami felt the warmth of the fire on her porcelain skin. But smelling the tempting meat, she suddenly didn't feel quite so hungry anymore.
One day earlier: Kirigakure Hospital.
The stinging scent of disinfectant filled the sterile room. Next to a lonely bed sat a water basin tinged with a faint pink hue.
"Cough... cough...!"
Tochihito Okachi leaned weakly against his headboard in his striped hospital gown. His once-powerful chest labored for every breath.
Blech!
He leaned over the edge of the bed, vomiting dark, clotted blood into the basin. The clots bobbed in the water; as the surface blood washed away, it became clear they weren't just clots. They were fragments of internal organs, laced with veins.
He pushed up his sleeve. His skin had turned an eerie, translucent light blue, covered in a thick layer of mucus—resembling some grotesque deep-sea creature.
He closed his eyes in disgust. Lord Genbu was right: the modification with Isobu's chakra was not something a normal human could survive. Even a tiny amount demanded a life as payment.
But Tochihito was willing. Weeds were resilient, but they only survived by adapting to their environment. To change the world, one had to set it on fire.
The Mizukage's genjutsu had been broken, the lockdown lifted. Lord Genbu was working with the Mizukage to handle the backlog of village affairs, and Ao had agreed to help the Anbu root out spies.
The bloody mist hanging over the village was finally clearing. When he reached the afterlife, he could finally look Hoshino in the eye and tell him he had contributed.
But first, there was one more thing to do.
He wiped the blood from his lips for the hundredth time. He began analyzing the list of suspects who had left the village, searching for a flaw.
Why can't I find it?
His dull, hollow eyes scanned the list he already knew by heart. Lord Ao had checked most of these people. No issues. The killer was a ghost—they had vanished after taking Hoshino's entire family.
The only one who left without being checked by Ao was...
This blind girl.
Tochihito stared at the photo at the top of the file. A girl with silver-grey hair, blood on her fingertips, looking frail and helpless. A wide black blindfold added a layer of mystery to her youthful face.
"No chakra fluctuations, no calluses from Taijutsu, smooth muscles, unscarred skin..."
The report was brief. He had read every word a thousand times.
Where is it? What am I missing?
He stared mechanically at the report until his eyes focused on the last few words.
A spark of realization hit him.
"Unscarred skin...! Cough!"
His sudden shout startled the nurse outside, who rushed in. "Sir, what is it?"
Tochihito's eyes, which had lost their light to the encroaching death, suddenly flared with a final, desperate clarity.
How could a blind girl, left to fend for herself, have no scars on her body?
Damn it! I should have known!
He pounded his chest. "Cough... get me Kirigarasu... now!"
The nurse scrambled out. Moments later, the Anbu operative Kirigarasu entered the room. "Captain."
"I found the killer who murdered Meiko," Tochihito gasped, pointing a trembling finger at the photo of the blind girl. He pressed his finger against her image as if trying to poke a hole through space and time.
"You and Ketsuken... take them... cough..."
"Your body—"
"Cough... before I die, I don't care how you do it. Bring me her head. That is my final order."
Kirigarasu looked at his trembling Captain, then at the sword-like resolve in Tochihito's eyes. His usually flippant tone turned somber.
"By your command."