Clop. Clop. Clop.
The rhythmic beating of hooves on the dirt road was a hypnotic metronome. It was interrupted only by the groan of the carriage's wooden axle—creeeeeak—every time the wheel dipped into a rut.
Fine dust, kicked up by the horses, drifted through the window slats, coating the back of everyone's throat with the dry, chalky taste of summer.
Outside the window, the world was a sea of gold. They were passing through a belt of wild wheat, the stalks tall and untended, bowing in waves under the late afternoon wind. It was beautiful, but it was empty. Rolling hills stretched to the horizon, dotted only by the skeleton of a collapsed barn or a lone stone chimney standing sentinel in the grass.
A hawk screeched high above—a thin, piercing sound that highlighted just how quiet the ground below actually was.
Naruto leaned out the window, the wind whipping his blonde hair back.
"Hey," Naruto frowned, looking at the endless space. "Where is everybody? There's so much land out here, but no houses. It's like... a ghost town without the town."
Asuma, riding alongside on a separate horse, exchanged a look with Anko in the driver's seat. They didn't say anything. They just smoked.
In the carriage, Ino sighed, inspecting her nails. "Didn't you pay attention in school, Naruto? Or were you too busy drawing on the desk?"
The interior of the carriage was stifling, smelling of warmed leather and the fading scent of the lavender sachet Ino had insisted on hanging from the ceiling.
Naruto pulled his head back in, looking offended. "For what?? Names of places? I'll learn 'em when I get there! Why fill my brain with stuff I haven't seen yet?"
Ino rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. She nudged Shikamaru with her knee. "You tell him. I don't have the patience."
Shikamaru opened one eye. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot against the vibrating wood of the carriage wall.
"The lands out here used to be populated," Shikamaru drawled, his voice lazy but carrying an edge of seriousness. "Then the Shinobi Wars happened."
Naruto leaned forward, his blue eyes wide. "Wars? Like... big ones?"
"Massive ones," Shikamaru corrected. "For centuries, the nations of our world have been at each other's throats."
He lifted a hand and slid his thumb slowly across his throat. Zzzzt.
The sound he made with his mouth was uncomfortably wet, a sharp contrast to his bored expression.
"Any time a country reaches too far, gets too big, or invents something too dangerous... the other nations panic. They invade. They scorch the earth." Shikamaru gestured to the empty wheat fields. "They get blown back into the stone age."
Naruto gasped, his hands gripping his knees. "What?? Like? With Jutsu?"
Shikamaru nodded. "Jutsu. Ninja tools. Technology we don't know how to make anymore because the people who invented it died before they could write it down."
Outside, a cloud passed over the sun, dimming the golden wheat to a dull bronze for a fleeting moment, as if the land itself remembered.
Sylvie, who had been sketching the landscape, lowered her charcoal stick. She blinked behind her glasses.
"Wait, Shikamaru," she asked, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean 'technology we don't know how to make'? Aren't we... advancing?"
Shikamaru shrugged, closing his eyes again. "Pick up a history book sometime, you guys. Sheesh. We live in the ruins of giants. Some of the stuff from the Second War? We can't replicate it. We just patch it up."
Naruto looks out the window and sees something vaguely mechanical and massive half-buried in the earth—like a rusted gear the size of a house, overgrown with vines. He stares in awe, trying to decipher the rusted archiecture overtaken by the planet. The metal wasn't just rusted; it was flaky and porous, resembling the marrow of a giant bone more than a machine part.
He put his hands behind his head and leaned back, signaling the end of the lesson.
Sylvie and Naruto looked at each other. Their brains started whirring.
"Jutsu powered carriage?" Naruto whispered loudly.
"Self-heating ramen cups using fire seals?" Sylvie theorized.
"Stopping a volcano explosion with Chōji's Human Boulder?" Naruto suggested, gesturing wildly.
"Hey!" Chōji mumbled through a mouthful of potato chips. Crunch. "I actually don't like hot food very much. Lava gives me heartburn."
The smell of artificial barbecue seasoning exploded in the confined space, instantly overpowering the smell of the road.
Sylvie giggled, covering her mouth.
"I didn't mean eat the volcano!" Naruto clarified. "I meant plug it!"
The carriage hit a particularly large rock, causing everyone to bounce a solid three inches off the bench in unison.
Shikamaru listened to them bicker, the carriage rocking gently. He let out a long, weary sigh.
What a troublesome world we live in, he thought. Fighting over scraps of the past.
The golden wheat eventually gave way to darker colors. The sun began to dip, casting long, bruised shadows across the road.
We were getting close to the border. The air changed. It stopped smelling like dry grass and started smelling like damp moss and pine resin. The temperature dropped ten degrees in the span of a minute, the humidity clinging to my skin like a cold, wet sheet.
I peered out the front of the carriage.
Ahead of us, the tree line rose up like a solid wall. But it wasn't just trees. Lining the space between the dense forest and the road was a fence.
It wasn't a normal fence. It was made of timber that hadn't been milled or polished. It was raw, dark, and rugged, the bark still clinging to the wood. Green moss grew in the deep fissures of the timber, looking like veins pulsing under black skin.
Kuroki-no-tamagaki, I recognized the term from a book on shrine architecture. Black Wood Jewel Fence.
It looked... purposeful. Like a barrier meant to keep spirits out—or in.
Curiosity itched at my skin. I stood up carefully, balancing against the sway of the carriage, and climbed through the small window onto the driver's bench.
Anko-sensei jumped. Her hand snapped to her mouth, and I saw a wisp of gray smoke vanish into her sleeve. A tendril of clove and tobacco scent escaped her collar, swirling briefly before the wind snatched it away.
"What're you doing?!" she barked, her eyes wide.
I wrinkled my nose. "You did it. I saw the smoke."
"We're ninja," Anko deflected, shoving the hidden cigarette deeper into her trench coat. "Ninja don't leave trails. And you're supposed to be in the back."
"I saw the fence," I said, pointing ahead.
Anko furrowed her brow. She looked at me, really looked at me, her expression softening from annoyed to amused.
"You know," she smirked, reaching out to mess up my hair with a rough, affectionate hand. "You're too cute to be a fearsome ninja. You gotta practice your bitch face so people don't mess with you."
She pulled a face—eyes wide, teeth bared, tongue slightly out. It was terrifying and hilarious.
I laughed. "I'll work on it."
"So whattaya really want?" Anko asked, turning her eyes back to the road. "I bet it's the kuroki huh? Little cat. Always curious."
She ruffled my hair again. I laughed and pushed her hands off.
"Yes! What is it? Why does the forest look... like a wall? And why use unpeeled wood? It looks ancient."
Anko's smile faded slightly. She looked at the dark timber fence running parallel to us.
"It is ancient," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "It's called Kuroki-no-tamagaki. Black Wood. It predates the shiny red fences you see at the modern shrines. This is the old way. The primal way."
She gestured with her chin toward the darkening woods beyond the fence.
"The Land of Sound used to be the Land of Rice Fields. But before that... this territory belonged to the clans who walked the line between man and beast."
I leaned in, fascinated. "Who?"
"The Guardian Dog and the Reaping Wolf," Anko whispered. "Ancestors of the Inuzuka and the Hatake. They built these barriers to mark where the 'civilized' world ended and the Wild began."
She tapped the wooden rail of the carriage.
"This fence isn't just wood, Sylvie. It's a warning. Beyond here, the rules of nature change."
The cicadas that had been buzzing in the wheat fields fell silent, replaced by the deeper, guttural croak of tree frogs hiding in the shadows.
I stared at the rough, black bark passing by. It felt heavy. It felt like the wood was watching us.
"We gotta focus now," Anko said, shaking off the mood. She sat up straighter, checking the horizon. "We're crossing the threshold. Remind me to tell you the full story later, kid."
"I will," I promised.
I climbed back into the carriage, but I kept my eyes on the window. The golden wheat was gone. We were entering the shadow of the Black Wood, and for the first time, I felt very far from home.