The jagged rock face formed a natural shelter against the storm, blocking the heavy rain. The defeated Iwa-nin huddled beneath it, silent and oppressed by the weight of failure. No one spoke, and even if they did, they wouldn't know what to say.
Akaishi sat upon a stone, eyes lowered as though deep in thought.
Iwayan and two other jōnin remained equally silent.
The last member of their squad, a special jōnin from the Anbu, was absent—sent by Akaishi to scout the perimeter. Though the likelihood of the Koeda clan's shinobi pursuing them was slim, caution had always been Akaishi's nature.
"Responsibility for this failure lies with me."
After a long silence, Akaishi finally raised his eyes and spoke, taking the blame upon himself.
"I underestimated Koeda Kyoichi. His strength… far exceeded my expectations. Kazetsuchi, Shen—they both died because of my carelessness."
"Akaishi-sama, this isn't just your—"
"Slate."
Akaishi's voice cut sharply, halting Slate's protest.
"I am the captain. You are my subordinates. Each of you gave your utmost in battle, none faltered or fled. The mission still failed. That is a flaw in my command. The blame is mine, not yours."
One of the other jōnin, who had accompanied Akaishi from the start and seemed closer to him than the others, leaned forward. His words carried a frankness that suggested something beyond a mere superior–subordinate relationship.
"Akaishi, if you want to shoulder the blame, that's fine. You're the only one here who can bear the fallout of failure. But this isn't the time to quibble over responsibility. What matters is what we do next."
Akaishi sighed quietly.
Of course he knew that.
The trouble was—after all his thinking, he still hadn't decided what came next.
"Akaishi, ninety percent of today's failure came down to that woman—the one immune to physical attacks. Our plan hinged on eliminating her quickly. Instead, Shen was killed by her. What we should be doing now is analyzing her technique, finding her weakness, and making sure she's dead the next time we strike!"
The jōnin named Iwami snarled, slicing a hand across his own throat in a decapitating gesture.
"It's not that simple, Iwami."
Akaishi's brows furrowed deeply.
True, as Iwami said, their failure stemmed largely from the squad's inability to bring down that woman. Their delay meant they couldn't assist him against Koeda Kyoichi—the very opponent the Third Tsuchikage had warned him about repeatedly.
But during his clash with Kyoichi, Akaishi had sensed something strange.
That youth, able to stand against him blow for blow, seemed to be holding something back. A hidden trump card. That realization gave Akaishi a subtle, nagging premonition: even without the woman's aid, perhaps their mission was doomed from the start.
It was one reason he had chosen to retreat so decisively after Shen's death, abandoning even the recovery of the corpse.
"What's so complicated about it?" Iwami pressed, scowling.
"From Shen's failure, we know explosive tags won't work against her. Water Release and Earth Release have also proven useless. The only viable option is Fire Release—and not just ordinary flames, but overwhelming firepower."
Akaishi's voice hardened.
"But none of us command fire release. Which means, if we want to deal with her, we'll need reinforcements from the village."
Iwami fell silent.
The reasoning was sound. The woman's technique was rooted in paper—its natural enemy was fire. Yet knowing the weakness meant nothing if they couldn't exploit it.
"...I still think there must be another way to counter her," Iwami muttered at last.
"Perhaps. But if there is, it won't be easy to find."
Akaishi shook his head.
If a secret art had many obvious weaknesses, it would never be viable in battle. He doubted they would uncover any simple alternative.
Just then—footsteps splashing through the mud approached from the storm.
"It's Bantō."
Akaishi immediately recognized the figure coming in from the rain—the Anbu-trained special jōnin he had sent scouting.
"Akaishi-sama, I've found something."
Codename Bantō ducked under the rocky overhang. On his shoulder hung not a corpse, but a living body—still breathing.
"Bantō… that's a Ame-nin?"
Slate's eyes narrowed as he studied the captive.
"Yes. I found him circling nearby, tracking us. Sharp senses—he even spotted me and tried an ambush. But his skill was lacking. I thought we might extract some intelligence about the Land of Rain, so I brought him."
"Good work."
Akaishi offered rare praise.
Then he turned toward the last jōnin in the group.
"Ishiza, interrogation is your specialty. He's yours."
"Don't worry." Ishiza, who had been silent until now, allowed a cruel smile to spread across his stony face. "Even if he were made of iron, I'd make him talk."
But before the torture could begin—
The Ame-nin suddenly shouted, "Iwa-nin! You're here to hunt down the Koeda clan, aren't you? Don't use torture! We're not your enemies. In fact—we should be allies!"
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