Outside the town, the group of Kiri ninjas, led by Fuguki, had barely managed to fend off the Suna ninja under Pakura's command. After the battle, they returned to their original ambush site.
"Captain, there are no signs of prolonged combat. Every kill was executed in a single strike. Judging by the wounds on their necks, it was likely done by someone highly skilled in Wind Release."
One of the Kiri ninjas, who was an expert in field investigation, reported his findings to Fuguki.
"Which direction did the enemy escape?"
"The battlefield was too chaotic from our previous fight… we… we can't determine that."
A chilling killing intent spread from Fuguki, making the reporting ninja break into a cold sweat.
Seeing his subordinate's fearful expression, he let out a dissatisfied snort. He then reached into his robe and pulled out the summoning scroll for his massive blade, Samehada. With a quick slash across his still-bleeding forearm, he formed a series of hand seals before pressing his palm against the summoning contract at the center of the scroll.
A thick cloud of chakra-infused smoke billowed up. Yet, the massive blade that should have appeared in response remained absent.
A sinking feeling gripped his heart. Refusing to believe it, he performed the Summoning Jutsu again.
The scroll at his feet remained unresponsive.
Fuguki grabbed the head of the subordinate beside him and slammed it into the ground.
The rage burning in his chest made him want to crush the man's skull with a single punch.
Repeated failures against Pakura had already put him under scrutiny from the village's higher-ups. If Samehada was truly lost, he would be forced to answer for it.
"This is your last chance. Find the bastard who stole Samehada, or I'll crush every bone in your body, inch by inch."
The Kiri ninja, his nose broken and face covered in blood, was terrified beyond belief. He could only nod frantically in response.
The rest of the Kiri ninjas quickly scattered, combing through the battlefield for any trace of the enemy.
As they distanced themselves from Fuguki's fury, they could only pray to find something. Otherwise, that anger would undoubtedly turn on them next.
In a small, inconspicuous house within the town, a Suna ninja, disguised as a civilian, carefully suppressed his presence while moving about as if he were an ordinary resident preparing dinner.
Beneath the house, in a hidden basement, Pakura and her remaining subordinates tended to their wounds with the help of a medical ninja.
Despite breaking through Kiri's encirclement and disrupting their plans, drawing their fire long enough for her team to counterattack, the battle had still cost them lives.
Wounded and exhausted, they were in no condition to travel far. In such a state, the open wilderness was too dangerous—blending into the crowded town was their best option.
Knock, knock—knock, knock, knock, knock—knock.
A rhythmic sequence of knocks echoed against the wooden door.
Hearing the correct signal, the Suna ninja standing guard relaxed slightly before opening it.
"Pakura-sama, something's wrong."
The Suna ninja who entered wasted no time in reporting. After their battle with Kiri, he had been the least injured and had returned to the original ambush site under Pakura's orders.
But instead of finding any trace of their allies, he had stumbled upon headless corpses of Kiri ninjas, which was a deeply unsettling sight.
There were no signs of large-scale jutsu, no chaotic footprints or marks from close combat.
Every single enemy had been killed in one precise strike.
He knew for certain that Akasaburō, who had stayed behind due to his injuries, could never have achieved something like that—even at his peak.
Pakura narrowed her eyes.
Her instincts, sharpened by years of walking the line between life and death, sent a warning through her mind.
Without hesitation, she sat up and looked at her team. "It's not safe here anymore. We're leaving!"
They responded in unison, quickly gathering their weapons and supplies. Using the Transformation Jutsu to disguise themselves as ordinary civilians, they hurried out of the basement.
Just as they were about to merge into the crowded street, a strange yet familiar sound of flowing water reached their ears.
Pakura's gaze snapped toward the source of the noise.
Small sharks, wrapped in swirling currents, were swimming straight toward them.
Damn it! Someone didn't conceal his scent properly. Cursing inwardly, she knew there was no point in reprimanding anyone now. She raised a hand, signaling her team to stay alert.
She didn't understand why the Kiri ninjas, after their earlier skirmish, had tracked them down again. The unspoken rule between them had always been to avoid large-scale battles within a town. Any major destruction would force even the most cowardly feudal lord of the Land of Tea to lodge a complaint against the daimyō of the Land of Water and the Land of Wind. Given the tangled web of alliances and kinship among the daimyō, this would inevitably bring diplomatic pressure onto both villages.
Normally, once discovered, the Kiri ninjas would have lost their chance to use poison mist, illusions, or silent assassinations. At most, they would hurl some threats before retreating.
But Fuguki was far beyond reasoning at this point.
The moment he spotted the Suna ninja, his rage exploded.
"Water Release: Water Fang Bullet!"
Spiraling currents formed before him, launching water bullets at breakneck speed toward Pakura's team.
Even though some Kiri ninjas hesitated, they knew the truth. If they didn't help Fuguki retrieve Samehada, they wouldn't even have to wait for the village's punishment. Their own captain, the strongest among them, would kill them first. He had never shown mercy to his own men.
Kunai and shuriken sliced through the air, aiming straight for the Suna ninjas standing in the alley. Water Release techniques followed close behind, surging from the hands of the Kiri ninjas.
Pakura's pupils contracted.
They had completely miscalculated Kiri's intent. Forced into a hurried retreat, her team barely managed to counter with defensive jutsu.
The clash of techniques sent shockwaves through the town, deafening explosions ripping through the night.
Terrified screams and frantic cries shattered the peace that had settled after dusk.
Kei and Minato, who had just finished dinner, turned their heads toward the battle raging only a few hundred meters away. Their brows furrowed at the sheer devastation.
In that instant, they both understood—they had severely underestimated the importance of Samehada.
If not for the sudden disappearance of the blade, both sides, who had been carefully restraining themselves throughout their conflict, would never have risked such reckless destruction within the town.
"Should we just give them back the sword?"
"Should we just kill them all instead?"
The two spoke at the same time.
After a brief silence, they exchanged glances—one exasperated, the other unimpressed.
A moment later, Minato gave in with a sigh, choosing to go along with his friend's plan.