Haruko hadn't intended to wake up yet.
Though he'd only been lightly asleep, his plan was to set out at night—giving Itachi's team enough time to leave the village.
But now, it was barely dusk.
The nauseating aura of a certain snake had jolted him awake prematurely.
Three months of training had expanded his sensory range significantly.
Within a radius of eight miles, he could detect any soul strong enough to stand out.
Orochimaru hadn't yet crossed that line, so his soul still carried a distinct signature...
And it made for a perfect alarm clock.
Haruko smirked.
"Since I'm up, might as well get moving."
"Worst case, I'll just tail them for a while..."
He grabbed Senbonzakura, splashed some water on his face, and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His eyebrows shot up.
"Damn, I'm pretty!"
His was a natural baby face—soft features, a sweet smile, and the Uchiha clan's signature long, straight black hair. Full marks for aesthetics.
"Seems my recovery buff training's paying off."
He gave himself a mental pat on the back.
Then, his expression hardened.
Pushing open the door, he found Orochimaru standing in the courtyard, arms crossed, watching him with amused interest.
"Rest well, Haruko?"
"Sorry... Orochimaru-sensei." Haruko walked right past him.
"Tonight, I don't feel like cutting you."
His steps didn't falter.
Orochimaru's expression remained unchanged.
He didn't stop Haruko. Didn't even ask why.
If Haruko didn't want to continue...
So be it.
Their master-student relationship had always been... peculiar.
Many criticized his training methods as too harsh.
Teaching a six-year-old, especially a girl, shouldn't involve such intensity.
But who could've guessed...
Every so-called "lesson" was actually the girl challenging him?
In her words...
He was the one getting cut.
A soft chuckle escaped him.
A gust of wind swept through, and Orochimaru vanished.
---
On the road to the Land of Rice Fields.
Itachi's team moved at a crawl.
For shinobi, this pace was practically glacial.
But their escortee was a civilian—a fat, flabby lump of a man who needed four people to carry his palanquin. Clearly not built for speed.
The sun was setting.
They'd be camping on the road tonight.
"Hey! Can't you go any faster?!"
"At this rate, where are we supposed to sleep?!"
"Listen up—if I'm not satisfied, I'm docking your pay!"
The employer's piggish face poked out of the palanquin, scowling.
His attitude rubbed the escort team the wrong way.
"You're the one who refused to speed up earlier!"
"Two steps in, you started whining about motion sickness! Now you're complaining we're too slow?!"
Itachi's teammates fired back.
"Y-Y-Y-You... brats! Just you wait!"
"When I get back to the Land of Rice Fields, I'll—huh?"
His voice cut off.
The fat employer, about to rant about Konoha's "unreliable service," froze when he noticed the sudden tension among the genin.
Their abrupt shift to high alert sent a chill down his spine.
Trembling, he craned his neck further out the window.
A masked figure stood in their path, his presence icy and oppressive.
Even from a distance, the killer intent radiating off him was enough to shatter the employer's nerves.
"Who... are you?"
"Why are you blocking our way?"
The genin who'd been arguing moments ago now spoke in hushed tones, their bravado gone.
The masked man's aura was terrifying.
Itachi, silent until now, subtly shifted closer to the palanquin.
He hadn't lost his composure.
He remembered: this was an escort mission.
The masked man noticed Itachi's movement.
"In this situation... you're not running?"
The single eye visible behind the mask locked onto Itachi.
As if...
He'd never cared about the others.
"We'll hold him off. You run—get back to Konoha and report this."
Itachi's pulse quickened despite himself.
The killing intent was suffocating.
Even with his battlefield experience, he couldn't fully suppress the instinctive fear clawing at him.
"Y-Y-Y-Yes! Let's go! Let these brats handle him!"
"I paid good money for this!"
The employer frantically waved for the palanquin bearers to flee.
The masked man didn't move.
He kept watching Itachi.
His face was hidden, but his eye betrayed no emotion.
The escort target retreated into the distance, the bearers miraculously finding a burst of speed in their panic.
Just as Itachi began to relax and strategize—
Screams pierced the air.
Itachi whipped around.
An identical figure stood in the fleeing group's path.
The civilians didn't stand a chance.
They collapsed instantly.
The pungent smell of blood spread.
The genin on their first C-rank mission stood frozen.
Utterly unprepared for this.
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