Iwagakure.
A team of Rock Shinobi with sluggish expressions and sallow complexions passed through the village gates, dragging their exhausted bodies toward home.
These were the same Rock Shinobi who had ambushed Yagami's squad at the lake.
"C-Captain… I… I'm heading back first…"
The moment they cleared the gate, one gaunt shinobi shakily held out a scroll to the chicken-nest-headed Jōnin.
The others, upon seeing that scroll, visibly paled even further.
Two days ago, they had been ordered to dive into the bloody lake and collect the corpses.
They hadn't managed to eat a single proper meal since then.
The grotesque, nauseating scene still clung to their minds like a curse.
"Useless."
The chicken-nest Jōnin took the scroll with a forced calm.
But his jaw had tightened — he wasn't unfazed.
After all, what he was holding wasn't a normal corpse, but a bag full of chopped-up remains.
Still, as a Jōnin, he held himself together.
The moment he accepted the scroll, the haggard Rock Shinobi fled.
"Captain… I… I'll go too."
"Me too…"
With one man bolting, the others followed.
None of them wanted to stand around for even another second.
All they wanted was to go home, take a scorching hot bath, and scrub away the memory of that nightmare.
In an instant, they were all gone.
"Hahh…"
The chicken-nest Jōnin exhaled heavily.
The scroll felt unbearably heavy in his hands.
He looked toward the tallest building in the village — the Tsuchikage's tower.
After a moment of hesitation, he forced his legs to move, each step heavier than the last.
Not long after…
An enraged voice erupted inside the Tsuchikage's office.
"What are you saying!? Dashi was killed in battle!?"
The fifty-eight-year-old Ōnoki shot into the air from his seat, beard bristling with fury.
"Lord Tsuchikage, please calm down!"
His red-robed advisor hurried to steady him.
"Speak! What happened!?"
Ōnoki ignored the warnings and glared at the chicken-nest Jōnin.
A simple ambush mission should not have resulted in a Jōnin dying.
Sensing the pressure, the previously confident chicken-nest shinobi shrank slightly under Ōnoki's gaze.
Carefully choosing his words, he recounted the entire incident from start to finish.
"What!?"
Ōnoki's eyes widened.
"You successfully ambushed Konoha shinobi, yet instead of capturing them, you lost men!?"
"…Yes."
Although it stung his pride, the chicken-nest Jōnin had no choice but to admit it.
"Who was the enemy? A Kage-level shinobi?"
Ōnoki's teeth ground together.
To kill three shinobi under a fifteen-man siege and then break out alive…
That was not the work of an unknown figure.
"I don't know…" the chicken-nest Jōnin said bitterly. "I've never seen him before."
Tch… unbelievable.
Ōnoki's beard twitched in anger.
Not only had this Jōnin returned empty-handed, he hadn't even identified the one responsible.
Then he noticed the scroll the chicken-nest Jōnin was clutching.
He already knew what it was — the remains of Dashi's team.
Thinking of talkative, hard-working Dashi, Ōnoki's voice lowered.
"…Give it here."
"Yes, Lord Tsuchikage."
But the chicken-nest Jōnin didn't immediately hand it over.
His expression stiffened awkwardly.
"There's… something else I didn't explain clearly."
"Oh?" Ōnoki narrowed his eyes. "What else?"
"Dashi and the others… they were… cut into… pieces."
The words came out haltingly.
"They aren't full corpses."
"They're chopped remains."
Ōnoki scoffed.
"What of it? I've seen plenty in my years—"
He grabbed the scroll.
"Lord Tsuchikage!"
The chicken-nest Jōnin quickly raised a hand.
"Maybe… maybe it's better if you don't look directly. Perhaps let someone else—"
"What nonsense!"
Ōnoki shoved him aside with a rock-enhanced palm.
Then he tapped the scroll.
Bang—
A puff of white smoke erupted.
And then—
A pile of wet, bloody, unrecognizable chunks of flesh splattered onto the floor.
The stench hit instantly.
Blood.
Rot.
Fear.
Cruelty.
It filled the room in a suffocating wave.
"Hrrk—URGH—!"
Ōnoki's advisor doubled over, vomiting violently.
Even Ōnoki himself paled, his breath catching.
He had expected dismemberment.
He had not expected… this.
Pieces no larger than a palm.
After a long, choking silence, both men slowly regained themselves.
"This is… Dashi?"
Ōnoki's voice trembled despite himself.
Because from the pile of shredded meat, it was impossible to tell.
"Yes… this is Dashi… Chōtei… and Benizō."
The chicken-nest Jōnin swallowed hard.
Though he had seen it once already, sweat still rolled down his temples.
The more he looked, the more it felt like facing a demon.
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