Chapter 17: The Trail Grows Cold
The morning mist clung to the camp like a blanket that refused to lift. It was colder than usual, the kind of cold that settled deep in your bones—not from the air, but from the quiet. Kota still hadn't come back.
Ren sat outside the half-collapsed tent, chewing on a stale ration while his eyes scanned the edge of the woods. Aki sat beside him, unusually silent, arms wrapped around his knees. Taro leaned against a crooked support post, picking dirt from beneath his fingernails.
No one had spoken about Kota in the past day, not really. The adults looked tense. One of the older genin had said, "It happens sometimes," and that had been the end of it.
But Ren couldn't let it go. Not when he remembered the way Kota laughed when he stole a roasted beet from the cook's table. Not when he remembered how Kota used to sleep with his hands clenched in fists, like he was ready to punch nightmares.
"Let's go find him," Ren said quietly.
Aki looked up immediately. "You mean… sneak out?"
Taro frowned. "You're not serious. We'll get in trouble. Or worse."
Ren didn't answer right away. He let the silence stretch long enough for his words to root themselves.
"If we don't do it," he said, "no one will."
---
They left just before dawn.
The guards had changed shift, and the camp was still stirring. Juro-sensei was nowhere to be seen—probably off training the older kids. Ren led the way, slipping through a gap in the fence where the wire had come loose. Taro and Aki followed after a heartbeat of hesitation.
The forest beyond was darker than it looked during the day, quiet except for the rustle of leaves and the distant croaking of frogs. Ren tried to steady his breathing. His legs felt too long, too loud, every step like thunder in the underbrush.
"Where are we even going?" Taro whispered.
"Back toward the stream," Ren said. "That's where Kota used to go to throw rocks. Maybe he left something behind."
Aki nodded, his face pale but determined.
The forest was familiar—but also not. Without the sun, everything looked different. Shadows stretched in the wrong directions, and the ground felt softer underfoot, like it might swallow their weight if they lingered too long.
Then Aki froze.
"Wait," he said, pointing to a patch of disturbed earth.
Ren crouched down. It wasn't much—a scuffed trail in the mud, like someone had slipped. And just ahead of it, snagged on a low branch, a strip of dull red cloth.
Taro's voice was barely a whisper. "That's from Kota's scarf."
Ren took it carefully, heart hammering. "He came this way."
---
They followed the trail as best they could, eyes scanning the underbrush for signs—a broken twig, a footprint, anything. But the forest didn't give up its secrets easily. Several times, Ren had to stop and guess which way Kota might've gone. He used what little he knew about tracking—patterns of movement, direction of scuffs—but mostly, he trusted instinct.
After nearly an hour of quiet tension, they came across something that stopped them all cold.
Blood.
Not much—just a spatter on a rock, barely dried. Nearby, a crushed patch of grass and a snapped branch. Aki turned pale. Taro took a step back.
Ren stared at it. Not because of what it meant—but because of what it didn't mean. There was no body. No drag marks. No signs of struggle beyond that one broken bush.
"He's alive," Ren said, trying to believe it.
"You don't know that," Taro muttered.
"I do," Ren said. "If he'd died here, there'd be more blood. Something dragged him away—or he ran."
Aki knelt beside the bush, eyes darting across the foliage. "What do we do now?"
Ren looked ahead, where the trees grew thicker.
"We mark this spot," he said, "and go back."
"What?" Taro barked. "We just got here!"
Ren turned. "If we go further, we might get lost. Or worse. We mark it, tell someone, and next time—next time we come with help."
The other two hesitated.
But in the end, they nodded.
---
When they returned to camp, Juro-sensei was waiting.
His arms were folded. His expression unreadable. The moment the three boys stepped back through the fence, his eyes locked onto Ren.
"In my tent," he said, voice like cold steel.
---
Juro didn't shout.
He didn't need to.
"You could've gotten yourselves killed," he said flatly. "You snuck out of camp, without permission, without weapons, into a forest crawling with shinobi, traps, and worse."
Ren stayed quiet. So did Aki and Taro.
Juro paused, then added, softer, "You found something?"
Ren nodded and held out the strip of scarf. Juro took it, his face unreadable.
"There was blood," Ren said. "Not much. A broken branch. I marked it with stones."
Juro was quiet for a long time.
Then he nodded.
"You did something stupid," he said. "But brave."
Taro blinked. Aki looked up in surprise.
Juro continued, "In war, bravery without discipline gets people killed. But cowardice gets them killed faster. Next time you leave this camp, it'll be with me. Understood?"
They nodded, slowly.
As they stepped outside the tent, Ren exhaled deeply.
They'd made it back.
And Kota… Kota might still be alive.