Pakura flicked her wrist, dispelling the remaining embers from her attack. Then, her gaze shifted to Souta.
"What the hell was that?" she demanded, eyes narrowing. "I wasn't paying attention for a second, and suddenly, he just—" She gestured at the empty space where the Root ninja had been. "Did you do something?"
Souta blinked, his eye now back to usual shade. His head throbbed slightly. "I just slowed him down," he said simply.
Pakura's frown deepened. "Slowed him down? Don't bullshit me, Souta. You're a civilian. I've fought enough shinobi to know when something unnatural happens." She took a step closer, her eyes locking onto his. "What did you do?"
Souta tensed for a moment but then let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "It's not something I can explain."
Pakura crossed her arms, clearly not satisfied with that answer. "Try. Because from where I'm standing, it looked like you were draining that guy's chakra. You're not a shinobi, you don't have any training, and yet—" She huffed. "Are you hiding something from me?"
Souta met her gaze, silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he said, "I'll tell you later."
Pakura narrowed her eyes at him, her expression unreadable. But after a pause, she exhaled sharply and nodded. "Fine."
Souta gave her a small, appreciative nod.
Pakura clicked her tongue. "Let's get out of here before more of them show up. You're already enough of a headache."
Souta smirked slightly. "Oh? So I'm a headache now?"
Pakura shot him a dry look. "You have no idea."
...
Hana Hyūga walked carefully through the quiet forest, her white eyes scanning ahead. The air felt heavy, unnatural. There was no sound—no birds, no insects. Just an eerie stillness that made her grip tighten.
Then she saw it.
The ground was scorched black, the surrounding trees marked with heat damage. At the center of the devastation were piles of… ashes? No bodies, no blood—just remnants of something that had been utterly burned away.
This wasn't normal fire damage. She had seen Fire Release techniques before, but this? It was different. The way the remains crumbled, the sheer intensity of the heat—it wasn't just an ordinary jutsu.
She crouched, running her fingers lightly over the blackened earth. It was still warm.
Her Byakugan activated as she searched the area. No movement. Whoever did this was already gone.
Hana swallowed hard. Something about this scene felt off. Fire Release could incinerate, but this level of destruction didn't seem right.
And it was right where Souta had gone.
She hesitated. Following him could be dangerous. She had rushed out without telling anyone—not even her clan. If she ran into whoever caused this, she'd be on her own.
Her fingers clenched. She wasn't weak, but she wasn't reckless either. Charging in blindly was a bad idea. The smarter move would be to turn back and report it.
But Souta… There was something strange about him. She had seen his eyes—just for a moment—but it was enough. His chakra wasn't normal. It wasn't like the Byakugan, the Sharingan, or anything she had seen before.
Was it a bloodline limit? An unawakened dōjutsu? Some hidden ability he didn't even realize he had?
The Byakugan could recognize chakra on sight, but his was different. Unnatural. And that bothered her.
She had followed him this far. Turning back now didn't sit right with her.
Hana took a deep breath.
...
The town was quiet when Souta arrived. Most shops had closed, and the streets were lit only by scattered lanterns, casting flickering shadows on the worn cobblestone paths. The scent of grilled food and cheap sake lingered in the air, remnants of a winding-down evening.
He adjusted the strap of his bag, feeling the weight of the now-empty parcel. The delivery had gone smoothly.
Souta exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he walked toward a modest inn. He had spent more energy than expected dealing with those Root operatives. Not physically—he had Pakura for that—but mentally.
The wooden sign above the entrance creaked in the breeze. "Fire Fox Inn."
He stepped inside. The innkeeper barely looked up as he slid a few coins across the counter. "Room for the night," Souta said simply.
The man nodded and handed him a key. "Second floor. End of the hall."
Souta wasted no time heading up. The room was small but comfortable—wooden walls, a futon neatly laid out, and a dim lantern flickering in the corner. He shut the door behind him, locking it.
Then, as if on cue, a warm presence filled the air.
He smirked. "Took you long enough."
From the shadows, Pakura emerged, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She still wore her usual desert-colored garb, her eyes watching him with quiet amusement.
"You say that as if I'm the one who took a detour."
Souta set his bag down and stretched. He should've been tired, but… seeing her now, the exhaustion faded. Maybe it was her presence. Maybe it was the way her fitted outfit hugged her body.
Pakura raised an eyebrow. "What?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he walked toward her, closing the space between them.
She looked up at him, unimpressed. "Something on your mind?"