Soran talked for an hour straight.
He sat cross-legged in the shade of a collapsed wall, drawing in the dirt with a stick while the three girls listened. The ruined farmhouse they'd camped in the night before was far enough from the road that no one would stumble onto them, and the crumbled walls broke the wind enough to make conversation possible without shouting.
"The palace is here." He scratched a rough square into the pale ground. "The main gate faces east, toward the market district. There's a side entrance on the north wall that the servants use. My father's throne room is in the center, but Burai uses it now. He sits in my father's chair." His jaw tightened. The stick pressed harder into the dirt. "The kitchens are on the south side. The servants' quarters are behind the kitchens, through a covered walkway."
"Guards?" Pakura asked.
"I don't know how many. There were always guards around, but I didn't count them. I was..." He trailed off. "I wasn't paying attention to things like that."
"That's fine," Karura said. "What about the ninjas? Where did you see them?"
"One stayed close to Burai. Always in the throne room or just outside it. The other two, I only saw a few times. They came and went. I think they had rooms in the east wing, but I'm not sure."
"You said one of them was faster than the other two," Mai said. She was sitting on the remnants of a wall, one leg dangling, watching the horizon. Keeping watch without being asked. "The one we fought. Was he the one who stayed near Burai?"
"No. The one who stays near Burai is different. Older. He has a scar across his nose and he never talks."
"What about the third?"
Soran shook his head. "I barely saw him. Big. That's all I remember."
Pakura looked at Karura. The same thought passing between them without words. Three shinobi, one of which they'd barely gotten a look at, and the best intel they had was "older with a scar" and "big."
"Tell us about the servants," Karura said.
That brightened him, slightly. "Most of them stayed after Burai took over. They didn't have anywhere else to go. There's Hina, she's been with our family since before I was born. She was my, well, she looked after me often. Changed my clothes, brought me food, made sure I ate, that kind of thing." A small crack in his voice. "She's kind. She's really kind. If anyone in that palace would help you, it's her."
"Where does she work?"
"She was my attendant, but after Burai moved in, he reassigned everyone. Last I knew, she was with the other maids. Cleaning. Cooking. Whatever he tells them to do." His expression darkened. "He treats them like dirt."
Karura nodded slowly. "What does she look like?"
"Old. Well, not old like granny old. Maybe thirty? She has blue hair and she always wears it tied back. She has a mole under her left eye. You can't miss it."
"And Burai himself?"
Soran's lip curled. "Fat. Sweaty. He has these thick fingers covered in rings that belonged to my father. He wears silk robes that are too tight and he stinks of perfume because underneath it he smells like grease. He laughs too loud at things that aren't funny and everyone around him pretends it is because they're scared of what happens if they don't."
"A stinky fat pig," Mai said flatly.
"Stinky fat pig." Soran stabbed the stick into the ground. "He was nobody before this. A merchant who got rich selling things he didn't make to people who couldn't afford them. My father tolerated him because he brought trade to the capital, but everyone knew what he was. Then my father died and suddenly he had ninjas and all the money in the world." The stick snapped in his hand. "Someone is helping him. He couldn't have done this alone. Not in a hundred years."
"Alright." Karura stood and brushed the dust from her legs. "I'm going in."
The argument was brief.
"I'll go," Mai said first.
"You can't disguise yourself," Pakura said.
"I'll just walk in."
"Into a palace full of guards. As a girl with a Suna headband."
"I'll take it off."
"You'll still look like a girl who doesn't belong there. You aren't pretty, you can't control yourself, you definitely can't act like a subservient and meek maid, and you can't lie to save your life."
"I can lie!"
"Name one time."
Mai opened her mouth. Closed it. Crossed her arms.
Pakura turned to Karura. "I can go. My transformation is solid."
"Your transformation is fine," Karura agreed. "But if something goes wrong inside that palace and you have to fight your way out, what happens?"
Pakura said nothing. They both knew the answer. Scorch Release in an enclosed stone building full of civilians and servants. Walls melting. People burning. She was talented but there was no telling how strong these ninjas were that were supporting Burai. They doubted she could fight while holding back and manage to escape without hurting any unnecessary people or burning the palace.
"I'll go," Karura said. "My transformation jutsu is good enough and I can handle acting like a maid. If I'm caught, I can Body Flicker out before anyone reacts. And if I can't run, Million and Reaper can help me do so."
"I guess those puppets would fit the situation better…" Pakura said begrudgingly.
Karura pulled the tie from her hair and let it fall loose. "I'll change everything. Hair, face, build, clothes. Someone completely different."
Pakura stared at her for a long moment. Then she blew air through her nose. "Fine."
"But if you're not out by sundown, we're coming in." Mai reminded her.
"If I'm not out by sundown, take Soran and run back to the village."
"That's not what I said." Mai was confused.
"I know." Karura smiled. "I'm telling you what sensei and the village would want us to do. One dead genin is better than three and a valuable prince."
...
They moved into the capital separately.
Sajin was larger than the settlements they'd passed through, but that wasn't saying much. A ring of mud-brick buildings surrounding a central market district, with the palace sitting on a low rise at the northern edge. The streets were populated but quiet. People walked with their heads down and their voices low. Guards in mismatched armor loitered at intersections, not patrolling so much as watching. Making sure everyone knew they were there.
Pakura went in first, transformed into a weathered-looking woman with a covered head and a merchant's bag over one shoulder. She found a tea house near the market where she could sit and watch the palace gates without drawing attention. Soran sat beside her with his face wrapped in a sand-colored scarf, only his eyes visible, looking like any other dusty child in a dusty city. He kept his head down and said nothing, which was the smartest thing he'd done since they met him.
Mai was harder to hide. She couldn't transform, and her young and muscular build, made her stand out even in loose clothing. They wrapped her face and head in layered cloth the way some of the desert traders did, leaving only her eyes exposed, and gave her a heavy pack to carry so she'd look like a laborer. She settled against a wall across the street from the tea house, close enough to reach Pakura and Soran in seconds, far enough to not look connected.
Karura found an alley behind a collapsed building two streets south of the palace. She checked every direction. Listened.
She formed the hand seals.
The transformation settled over her like water. Her sandy-brown hair darkened to black and shortened to a rough, uneven cut. Her face rounded, her nose widened, her eyes shifted from indigo to a flat dark brown. Her clothes changed into the plain, worn tunic and trousers she'd seen on the local children. Dusty. Faded. Patched at the knee.
She used the reflection of her headband to look at herself. A different girl looked back from the reflection. Nobody. A local child nobody would look twice at. She then she walked to the palace.
...
The servants' entrance was exactly where Soran said it would be. A low wooden door set into the north wall, propped open with a clay brick. No guard. Servants moved in and out carrying baskets, water jugs, bundles of linen. Nobody checked them. Nobody cared. The palace's security was focused outward, on threats approaching from outside. The servants were invisible.
Karura slipped in behind a woman carrying a stack of folded cloth, matching her pace, looking like she belonged. Inside, the servant's corridor was narrow and dim, lit by oil lamps set into alcoves in the stone walls. It smelled like cooking smoke and lye soap.
She caught the arm of a girl passing in the other direction. Maybe twelve, carrying an empty tray. "Excuse me. Do you know where Hina is? The one with blue hair?"
The girl barely glanced at her. "Kitchen. Down the hall, turn left."
"Thank you."
She found Hina exactly as described. A woman somewhere around thirty, lean from work, with streaks of grey running through dark hair pulled back in a tight knot. The mole under her left eye was small but distinct. She was scrubbing pots in a stone basin, alone, her sleeves rolled to the elbows.
Karura stepped into the kitchen and waited until she was sure no one else was within earshot. Then she spoke quietly.
"Hina."
The woman looked up. Her eyes moved over Karura's face, not recognizing it, and a flicker of confusion crossed her features. "I don't know you."
"No. But you know the prince."
Hina's hands went still in the water. The confusion sharpened into something guarded. Afraid. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"He's safe." Karura kept her voice low and even. "He's alive and he's outside the city with my teammates. He told me about you. He said you were kind. He said if anyone in this palace would help, it was you."
Hina's jaw trembled. She looked at the doorway behind Karura, then at the walls, then back at Karura's unfamiliar face. "Who are you?"
"Sunagakure. We're shinobi. We found Soran being chased by Burai's men four days ago and we've been protecting him since."
The pot slipped from Hina's fingers and sank into the basin with a dull clang. Her hand came up to her mouth, pressing hard, and her eyes went wet.
"He's alive," she whispered through her fingers. "He's really alive? I thought, we all thought..."
"He's alive." She gently reassured her.
Hina laughed. A single, broken sound, half sob, caught behind her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed through it. When she opened them again, relief and joy could be seen in them.
"What do you need?"
"I need to be inside this palace without anyone questioning why. I need to see how Burai operates, where his men are positioned, and who's really pulling his strings. Soran believes someone is backing him from outside. I need to find out all that I can."
Hina nodded slowly. She looked at Karura again, really looked, and Karura could see something happening behind her eyes. "You're very small for a shinobi."
"We start early." She smiled.
"Burai brought in new servants when he took over, but he's been losing them. People leave when they can. He doesn't care as long as the work gets done. A new face wouldn't be unusual."
"I need a story for why I'm here."
Hina thought for a moment. "My sister's daughter. Mika. She lives in one of the outer settlements. I sent for her because the palace pays better than anything out there. It's thin, but Burai doesn't know my family. He barely knows any of our names."
"Mika," Karura repeated. "Your niece from the outer settlements. You sent for me because the pay is better."
"That's right. You'll be doing kitchen work and cleaning. Stay quiet, stay small, and keep your eyes on the floor when the guards walk by. They don't bother the younger ones. Usually." Something dark flickered across Hina's face. "Stay away from Burai's personal quarters. Don't go to the east wing at all. That's where his shinobi stay."
"I need to see the east wing."
"Then be careful." Hina dried her hands on her apron and straightened. "I'll tell the head cook I sent for you. She won't question it. We're shorthanded every week."
...
The work was real.
Karura spent the next several hours scrubbing floors, hauling water, carrying trays of food from the kitchen to the servants' hall, and folding laundry. Surprisingly there was even a tenfold boost to her cleaning work, making the place sparkle and show reflections. The transformation held steady; she hasn't practiced since graduation honestly but it came naturally. The drain on her chakra was pretty much nonexistent. With the boosts given to her after a hard day of training, her physical body and chakra reserves/control are boosted tenfold. That has very quickly sprawled into something that she doesn't even know the limit of…
She watched everything.
The palace had been grand once. The stonework was old and well-cut, the corridors wide enough for two people to walk abreast, the ceilings high enough to catch air and keep the rooms cool in the worst heat. Clothwork hung on the walls, faded and dusty but depicting scenes of the Land of Dust when it was green. Rivers that no longer existed. Fields that had turned to hardpan decades ago.
Burai's presence had ruined it. Through neglect and tastelessness. Expensive furniture hauled in from somewhere else, too large for the rooms, clashing with the old stonework. Gold-colored fabric draped over everything, cheap material trying to look rich. Food scraps on tables that hadn't been cleared. Wine stains on the floor.
She counted guards as she worked. Fourteen in the palace itself during the afternoon, rotating in pairs through the corridors and standing in clusters near the main entrances. She saw six more through the windows, stationed in the courtyard. That was twenty just within the palace grounds. Soran had said thirty, but there could be more elsewhere in the city.
Late in the afternoon, she found what she was looking for.
She'd been sent to deliver a tray of tea to the throne room antechamber, a small waiting room outside the main hall where visitors sat before being admitted. The door to the throne room was open a crack. Karura set down the tray, poured a cup she wouldn't drink, and listened.
Burai's voice carried.
"...the next shipment comes through the northern pass in two weeks. I want twenty men on it. Not the locals, the real ones."
Another voice. Quieter. "Tsuchikage's council wants a progress report before the next disbursement. You've been spending faster than projected."
The tea in Karura's cup went very still.
Tsuchikage.
This wasn't some warlord with hired muscle. Or a local power grab by a fat merchant with ambitions above his station. Iwagakure. The Hidden Stone Village. One of the Five Great Shinobi Villages, and Suna's oldest enemy.
"Tell them the money's going exactly where it needs to go," Burai said. Something crunched; he was eating while holding court. "The mining contracts are signed. The trade routes are redirected. Another six months and every caravan between Wind Country and the western nations goes through my territory, which means through theirs. That's worth ten times what they've spent."
"They also want the garrison expanded. Fifty by the end of the quarter."
"Fifty?" Burai laughed. A big, wet, rolling laugh. "Where am I going to put fifty ninjas? This palace barely holds my guards."
"Iwa wants to station a full platoon here before the dry season."
"That's... a lot of stone ninjas in one place."
"That's the price of their support. The Land of Dust becomes a staging ground. When the next conflict with Suna comes, and it will come, Iwa wants forces already inside Wind Country's sphere of influence. You agreed to this when you took their money."
"I agreed to rule a country, not host an invasion."
"You agreed to what they told you to agree to. The country was the incentive. Don't confuse it for the objective."
Another silence. Burai's chair creaked under his weight.
"Fine. Fine. Tell them I'll make room. But I want the next payment in full. No more installments. I've got expenses."
Karura's hands were steady. Her breathing was steady. Her heartbeat was not.
This was bigger than a regime change in a dying country. This was Iwagakure planning an invasion. A staging ground for war. The Land of Dust wasn't just being looted. It was being converted into a weapon pointed at Suna.
She picked up the tray, turned, and walked back toward the kitchen with her eyes on the floor.
...
She needed to leave.
The intelligence she'd gathered changed everything. This wasn't a B-rank investigation anymore. This was the kind of information that went directly to the Kazekage's desk, the kind that could shift the balance between nations. She needed to get it out, get it to her team, and send a second messenger bird to Suna immediately.
She went back to work, planning her escape naturally.
The sun crawled. She scrubbed. She carried. She folded. She kept her eyes down and her hands busy and her ears open. More fragments of conversation drifted past. Guards complaining about the food. Servants whispering about Burai's latest demands. Nothing as valuable as what she'd already heard, but she absorbed it all, building a picture of the palace's rhythms and routines.
At sundown, the palace shifted. Oil lamps were lit. The corridors emptied as servants finished their duties and retreated to the quarters behind the kitchen. ninjas changed shifts, the afternoon pairs replaced by night guards who were fewer in number but stationed closer to Burai's personal rooms.
Karura was helping Hina carry a stack of clean linens to a storage room. She was about to make her exit now.
When a voice stopped them both.
"You."
The word was directed at Karura. She turned.
Burai stood at the far end of the corridor.
He was exactly as Soran described. Round, heavy, wrapped in silk that strained at the seams. His fingers were thick, and three gold rings caught the lamplight on each hand. His face was fleshy, the skin oiled and gleaming, his small eyes nearly lost in the soft padding of his cheeks. He smelled like perfume before he was even close, a sweet, cloying scent that didn't quite cover what was underneath.
He was staring at Karura.
"I don't recognize you." He walked closer. "I know every face in this palace. You're new."
"Yes, sir." Karura lowered her eyes. Made her voice smaller. "I just arrived today."
"From where?"
"The outer settlements, sir. My aunt Hina sent for me. She said there was work here."
Burai's gaze shifted to Hina, who had stopped beside Karura with the linens still in her arms. "That true?"
"Yes, my lord." Hina's voice was perfectly flat. Practiced. "She's my sister's girl. Mika. I thought we could use the extra hands."
"Mm." His eyes came back to Karura. They moved over her in a way that made her skin prickle, though she didn't understand why. There was something about the way he looked at her that felt gross.
"You're small," he said.
"I can work hard, sir."
"I'm sure you do." He looked at her for another moment, then seemed to lose interest. His attention drifted to Hina. Something in his expression changed. The idle curiosity sharpened into something else.
"Hina," he said. His voice had dropped. "Bring wine to my quarters when you've finished here. The good wine. From the cellar."
Hina's hands tightened on the linens. The knuckles went white.
"Of course, my lord."
"Good." He smiled. It pushed his cheeks up and made his eyes nearly disappear. "Don't be long."
He turned and walked away. His silk rustled. His rings clinked faintly against each other. The perfume lingered in the corridor long after he'd rounded the corner.
Karura looked at Hina.
Hina was staring straight ahead. Her jaw was set. The linens in her arms had developed creases where her fingers were digging into them. She didn't move for several seconds. Then she exhaled. Long and slow. She put on a smile. It was the fakest smile Karura had ever seen.
"Don't worry about it, Mika." She shifted the linens to one arm and patted Karura's head with the other. Her hand was trembling. "Finish putting these away for me, will you? You can head home without me. The storage room is the third door on the left."
"Hina..."
"Third door on the left." The smile held. "Go on."
She handed Karura the linens and walked toward the cellar. Her steps were steady. Her back was straight. She didn't look back.
Karura stood alone in the corridor, holding a stack of clean cloth that smelled like lye soap, and something cold settled in her stomach. Why was Hina scared to bring wine to his room?
She watched the corridor where Hina had disappeared.
The linens were warm from being freshly folded.
The palace was quiet.
And something in Karura's chest pulled tight.