Two days later. The mission is on.
Our first real outing as a full Genin squad. A recon-escort hybrid, which is basically the mission equivalent of a multi-tool: vague, overpromised, and bound to snap under pressure.
We're headed to a settlement on the outer edges of Fire Country. Some trade convoy needs protection while passing through an area that apparently "might have residual seal traps from the war."
Which is code for: "There are going to be problems and we're not telling you what kind."
Genma didn't seem worried. But he never does. He gave us each a field kit, a second scroll of medical tags, and then just said, "Adapt."
Classic.
We travel fast. Quiet. Takkun hums a battle theme under his breath. Damu is chewing on something that might be a rice ball or a compressed scroll—unclear.
I focus on the ground.
Not just to avoid stepping on explosive tags.
But because lately, I've started to feel the terrain differently. My chakra doesn't flow through the earth.
It folds into it.
Like the land is listening.
Waiting.
Halfway through the journey, we find the convoy.
Four carts. Two merchant guards. One guy with a crossbow and no shoes.
We get the usual brief—bandits in the area, rumors of chakra distortion near a ruined temple by the route.
Temple.
The word clicks somewhere in my spine.
I glance at Genma. He's already looking at me.
Of course he is.
That night, we camp near the old shrine. It's half-swallowed by roots and moss, with broken pillars that look like they gave up halfway through being built.
Takkun dares Damu to pee on it.
Damu declines with honor.
I walk around the perimeter, chakra trickling from my hands.
I don't sense traps.
But I feel something.
A hum.
Not chakra. Not energy. Something... between.
Like a breath caught in the earth itself.
Back at the campfire, Genma stirs the coals with a twig. Doesn't look up.
"Your Earth and Wind are syncing differently now," he says.
"Thanks. I think."
"You've got strong Earth flow… but something about your chakra spin feels off-axis. Not unstable. Just different."
I freeze.
Not again.
"Hey," he adds, narrowing his eyes. "Ever feel like your chakra… avoids shape on purpose?"
I don't answer.
Because once again, he's touching a truth I haven't even admitted to myself yet.
We finish the mission without incident. Convoy delivered. Bandits avoided. No traps triggered.
On the way back, Genma hands me a scrap of cloth.
It's part of an old seal tag, burned at the edges. Pattern resembles an anchor—not a binding seal, but a stabilization grid.
It matches the residue I felt at the shrine.
"Don't overthink it," he says.
"I never underthink it," I mutter.
He smiles around his senbon.
"You're doing good, Raika. Just remember—sometimes the ground shifts to warn you."
I pocket the cloth.
And for the first time since this all started, I wonder if the strange pull in my chakra...
...isn't a bug.
It's a compass.
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— void_chakra