The same lost civilian was escorted into the Mizukage's office under protest.
Not because he was dangerous—
But because no one could decide what he was.
He was a merchant by trade. Paperwork clean. Routes ordinary. No chakra worth noting. The kind of man intelligence usually forgot the moment he left the room.
Which was exactly why he was here.
"Start again," the Mizukage said, voice even. "Slowly."
The man swallowed. "I got turned around near the border forests. Fog came in thicker than expected. I thought I'd lost a day."
"And then?" an advisor prompted.
"And then I found people," the merchant said. "Not a village—at least not one marked anywhere. No walls. No gates. Just… homes where the land dips."
The Mizukage's fingers stilled.
"You're sure of the location?"
The man nodded quickly. "That's what confused me. It shouldn't have been livable. Too damp. Too broken. No trade road, no reason to settle."
"Yet they had supplies."
"Yes. And children."
That drew attention.
"They were playing near a stream," the merchant continued, hesitant now. "One slipped. The water froze just enough for him to catch himself."
The room went still.
"Frozen how?" the Mizukage asked.
"Briefly," the man said. "Like it didn't want to stay that way."
A long pause followed.
"You're certain it wasn't weather?" an advisor asked.
The merchant shook his head. "I've lived near snow my whole life. This wasn't that. The ice listened."
Silence hardened into weight.
"And the people?" the Mizukage asked.
"Calm," the merchant said. "Too calm. They didn't panic when they saw me. They helped me. Fed me. Then pointed me away—politely, but firmly."
The Mizukage leaned back.
A remote settlement.
Children using Ice Release openly.
No fear. No defensive posture. No obvious leadership.
That wasn't survival.
That was confidence.
"Did you see any shinobi?" he asked.
The merchant hesitated. "One man. Brown hair. Tired eyes. He smiled too easily for someone who should have been worried."
The Mizukage closed his eyes briefly.
That smile bothered him more than the ice.
"Thank you," he said. "You'll be compensated, point out the location, and you'll forget the exact location."
The merchant nodded gratefully and was led out.
The moment the doors closed, the Mizukage stood.
"That location should not exist," he said flatly.
"It sits between our interests and Fire Country's blind zones," an advisor said. "Unclaimed. Overlooked."
"Which means someone chose it," the Mizukage replied. "And someone made it safe."
He turned to the map and marked the area—not heavily. Just enough.
"Send a team," he ordered. "Not hunter-nin. Scouts. Observers. I want confirmation, not confrontation."
"And if it's the Yuki Clan?"
The Mizukage's gaze sharpened.
"Then they've evolved," he said. "And we need to understand how."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Days later, Mist scouts moved through fog-heavy terrain, careful not to disturb anything that might disturb them in return.
The land resisted being read.
Chakra signatures were… dull.
Footpaths looked like animal trails.
Structures blended into the terrain instead of claiming it.
And somewhere deeper within, laughter carried briefly on cool air.
The scouts did not advance further.
They reported back exactly what they'd seen.
Which was almost nothing.
The Mizukage read the report and exhaled slowly.
Ice Release.
No panic.
No blood.
A clan that no longer needed to hide behind terror.
"That's new," he murmured.