"Pakura?" he murmured.
"One down," her voice responded smoothly.
Souta exhaled. No sound, no struggle. Just gone. Root agents or not, they were up against someone they couldn't handle.
"The other two?" Souta asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Pakura's reply was immediate. "They noticed."
"They're spreading out," she continued. "One's circling around to cut off your path. The other's hanging back, waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
A pause. Then, Pakura's voice took on a sharper edge.
"Reinforcements."
"You're sure?"
"I just spotted two more moving into position. They're good—better than the usual fodder."
Souta kept walking
"He's baiting me," she said. "He wants to see who I am."
Souta sighed. "Not surprising."
"What's the plan?"
Souta glanced ahead. If one of the Root shinobi had moved to block his path, that meant they were trying to corral him into a controlled space. If he kept moving forward like this, he'd walk right into their trap.
So he wouldn't.
"We change direction," he said, adjusting his pace slightly. "Cut through the trees. Make them move."
Souta turned off the dirt path, stepping lightly into the undergrowth. He moved at a steady pace, making it look as natural as possible. If he suddenly bolted, they'd know he was aware of them. But this way, they'd have to adapt—and when people had to adapt, they made mistakes.
Pakura's voice was quiet in his ear. "They're following."
"Good."
Souta wasn't a shinobi, but that didn't mean he was defenseless. The more control he had over the situation, the better his chances were.
The two operatives trailing him had split—one veering further into the trees, the other maintaining distance. The one ahead had stopped moving altogether.
Pakura spoke again. "Something's off. The one hanging back… I think he's a sensor."
Souta's breath hitched slightly. That complicated things.
"Can you get rid of him?" he asked.
"I can try," Pakura said. "But if I do, they'll know exactly where I am."
Souta exhaled. That was the problem.
Souta kept his steps steady, adjusting his breathing.
Pakura's voice came again, low and urgent. "They're making their move."
He heard it before he saw it—leaves rustling unnaturally, the faint displacement of air. A flicker of movement from the trees above.
Souta didn't react immediately. A Root operative landed lightly in front of him, blocking his path with a smooth efficiency. The shinobi's mask revealed nothing, but his stance was clear—Souta wasn't going anywhere.
Another one emerged from the side, taking up position. The ambush was complete.
"Souta of the tea shop," the first Root ninja said. His voice was calm, almost conversational. "You're coming with us."
Souta tilted his head. "And if I refuse?"
The second ninja shifted slightly. "That would be…unwise."
Souta sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "You guys never learn."
Before the Root ninja could respond, the air behind them shimmered—then erupted.
Pakura moved like a phantom, her presence manifesting in an explosion of searing heat. One of the Root agents barely had time to turn before her Scorch Release consumed him in a blistering wave of heat orbs, his body dehydrating instantly before he collapsed in an ashen heap.
The remaining operative jumped back, alarm flashing in his stance.
"That's—" his voice faltered in shock. "Pakura of the Sand?!"
The disbelief in his tone was almost satisfying. Pakura's death had been a widely known event Now watched her reappear as a phantom on foreign soil.
"That's impossible," he muttered. "You're dead."
Pakura's eyes locked onto him. "You sure about that?"
The Root ninja didn't have time to respond. She was already moving.
A kunai lashed out toward her, but it might as well have been a thrown leaf. She weaved through the attack with fluid grace, closing the distance in an instant. Her palm thrust forward, a scorching orb manifesting at point-blank range.
The Root agent barely managed to substitute, flickering away into the branches above. He wasn't looking at her anymore—his gaze had shifted to Souta, realization dawning in his expression.
"She's protecting him," the operative murmured. His stance tightened, suddenly more cautious. "Why? Is he a Sand agent?"
Pakura's expression darkened. "You don't get to ask questions."
But the damage was done. The gears in the Root ninja's head were turning, piecing together implications that weren't there but were dangerous nonetheless.
Souta sighed. "Great. Now they think I'm a spy."
Pakura didn't respond. She was already moving again, her form a blur as she shot toward their remaining opponent.
The Root ninja flickered away, retreating into the trees. "We need reinforcements," he muttered into a concealed communication device.
Souta looked at them. He couldn't let them escape. Pakura's existence had to remain hidden.
"Guess I have no choice," he muttered.
He exhaled slowly, feeling the dull ache behind his eyes as his vision warped. The golden glow of his Kōtengan flickered to life, but it was faint, unstable. Without Mikoto nearby, its power was limited—he could feel it resisting, as if something vital was missing.
Still, it was enough.
The fleeing Root ninja suddenly staggered mid-step, his body locking up as his chakra flow twisted unnaturally. A strangled gasp left his throat as he felt something being drained—his strength, his energy, his very essence being siphoned away into a void beyond his understanding.
It wasn't perfect. But it was enough to make him falter.
Pakura took the opportunity without hesitation. She was on him in an instant, her scorching orb pressing into his back. There was no scream—only a sharp inhale before his body crumbled to dust, reduced to nothing.
The forest was silent.