Chapter 27 Preview

From Chapter 25, Festival, Part 1

“Katsuro…is something wrong?” she said to the stiff line of his back.

He stopped, fist balled at his side.

She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she dashed around in front of him, grasping his arm through his cloak. Sakura looked into his face, noticing for the first time the shadows under his eyes. But he wouldn’t look at her.

“I have to go,” he said, voice tight. “And I can’t—”

“Wait. I want to see you again before I leave.”

He finally turned to her, taking in her whole face.

“Sakura, I…I….”

She hadn’t put a name to her growing attachment to him. But she knew now these feelings ran much deeper than she had admitted to herself. She drew a calming breath. Plenty of time to explore these feelings later, she told herself, if only she could convince him. But first she needed to make a plan.

“Please,” she pressed. “I-I just want to see you again. Will you come back?”

He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly wrestling with the decision. Finally, he sighed.

“Yeah. I’ll come. But it will be late.”

With a flicker of a smile, he was gone.

---

Ch 27 – Festival, Part 2

“Dammit.”

He could have said something, anything. But she wanted to see him again, and he just couldn’t tell her no.

Katsuro landed hard on a branch then bounced off again. He could still hear the happy sounds from the village festival, filtering up through the darkened limbs.

Tonight was the perfect opportunity, and he blew it. He knew what he had to do, even though he hated it. And this just let him put it off one more night.

To be so easily swayed from his purpose. Itachi would say it was weak, though he didn’t think so. He knew he wanted to see her more than anything else. But there were other things that gave him pause. He worried that he was putting her in danger or that somehow their friendship might be discovered. Or worse: that his own secrets were coming to light.

He raked a hand through his hair, leapt to another branch.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. He’d tell her tomorrow. This was just getting too dangerous, for both of them.

Behind him, the village lights cast a dim glow in the night sky. But it wasn’t hard to find the broad leafless oak against the black terrain in front of him. It’s branches clawed slightly higher than all the rest.

Dropping to the base, he slipped down into the large roots. He found a familiar bent root and dug out the pile of leaves beneath it. Shaking his black cloak free, he kicked his foot into the leafy mess. A familiar clink rang out.

That damn bag of money. This assignment, the fact that he still had the money three days after meeting the contact, had turned out to be a real problem. However it wasn’t his biggest. He rubbed a hand over his chest, trying to soothe the dull burn that had taken hold there.

Katsuro wrapped the cloak around him, made sure the sack was hidden and settled back against the tree. Knees bent up, he completely disappeared among the roots, looking like a gnarled extension of the tree, hidden in plain sight.

Trying to sleep had proved impossible the last few nights. His mind always turned over the puzzling events. He knew it was taking a toll too. The few hours he had to sleep were shortened, and it was harder to wake up when he needed to. And, worst of all, his stress was bubbling to the surface around Sakura. It was getting harder to hold everything in.

Sleep, worry, anger — these were cracks which the demon clawed at. The sickening chakra was getting closer to the surface. Sakura had already detected his wind nature somehow. If she sensed his chakra, then it was all over.

The things she’d said tonight were horrifying. His “wind thing?” How could she have known? What did he do that gave it away? Maybe she was a wind element too, and she recognized it in him. He scrubbed a hand over his face. There were so many things he didn’t know. If there had been a doubt before about what he needed to do, then this little incident alone obliterated it.

But he couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault.

If everything had worked out like it was supposed to, then he could be enjoying his time with her. Not constantly looking over his shoulder.

He pulled the hood down over his face, folded his arms and tried to get as comfortable as he could against the unyielding tree. He should have known things would go wrong when he took on a mission dealing with brothers.

One was the contact, one was the target. But Itachi’s instructions were specific: the target, the fat older brother and clan head, was to receive the money. The thinner, younger one was only to provide access to the elder.

And just as Katsuro expected, the younger brother was more than willing to accept the payment as the elder “was busy handling family affairs.”

From the doorway the thin man sniffed disdainfully. He looked the strange nin up and down. But Katsuro didn’t care. His henge was perfect. He looked every bit like the black-haired, pale-skinned Kiri rogue they’d encountered a year back. He was fairly certain hunter nins had already taken him down, but a small town contact would never know the difference. And Katsuro’s appearance would throw off anyone searching for him. Namely Konoha.

Katsuro pulled the cloak back just enough to give the contact a glimpse of his village insignia. It glinted dully in the twilight. As expected, the man’s eyes darted to the headband tied to his belt. Katsuro let the cloak swing closed. Now he had covered all his tracks — the deal could proceed.

Katsuro shifted his weight, letting the coins jingle in the sack for a moment.

“My instructions are to see the clan head,” he said firmly.

The sibling was petulant. “As his brother, I can accept anything for him,” he snapped holding out his hand.

“My arrangement is with him, and him alone.”

“Ah, I see.” Smoothing the stringy mustache that hung down over the corners of his mouth, the younger brother raked a lecherous gaze over Katsuro. “If you’d told me that right away I could have taken you to his private chambers.”

Katsuro’s mouth fell open. Was this man toying with him?

The brother cocked an eyebrow, smiling saucily. It sparked a small, angry fire in Katsuro.

“It’s not like that, and you damn well know it,” he growled. Somehow his hand had found it’s way to his kunai.

“Oooo, so scary!” The brother tittered with laughter and spun around, pulling the door partially closed. “It doesn’t matter,” he flung back over his shoulder. “He’s not here tonight. Come back tomorrow. Midday.” The door snapped shut.

Katsuro was left alone on the stoop in dismay. Hand still on his kunai, he had a ridiculous urge to barge in and find the older brother. Instead he smothered his anger, turned and walked back down the lane, telling himself that forcing a bribe would defeat the purpose of his coming here at all.

He turned into the road, looking for a place to wait out the night. Whatever the goal was, whoever the target was, Katsuro knew they needed to feel special, like they were selected to help and profit. Otherwise his group’s cover was blown. If these people were forced, then they could point back to who forced them. But if they made a profit, then they were happy to keep secrets. And Itachi was a master at scouting out those human weakness and using them to his advantage.

Katsuro spied a ramshackle barn at the edge of a field. Just a brown silhouette against the dusky sky, but with open land on all sides, it provide adequate shelter for the night. He could see everything from that vantage point.

Finding a stack of last season’s hay bales piled against the far side, Katsuro tucked in to wait out the night. He’d sleep here, make his delivery tomorrow, then be on his way to the festival. The delay did disrupt his plans, but he should be able to make it with enough time to see her that first night. Then he’d have the next two nights free and clear. He stretched back against the stubbily straw. Even that weasel of a contact couldn’t destroy his good mood this time.

But when Katsuro arrived at the gate of the complex the next day, hot and conspicuous with the noonday sun bearing down on his black garb, he found no one home. He rattled the gate loudly and peered around at the facade, the windows and doors, but still no one came.

Frowning, Katsuro prised open the lock with the tip of his kunai, careful not to make a scratch. The gate closed with a soft click behind him. He approached the main door slowly, but still no one came out to apprehend the dark stranger. The eerie stillness surrounding the house prickled up the hair on the back of his neck.

Stepping onto the wide porch, Katsuro flipped his kunai into reverse grip in one hand, and raised his other hand to rap loudly at the door. He was just deciding to break in if no one came, when the screen slid back in a quick snap. Standing there, head bowed, was an old woman who had just then glanced down, adjusting her basket before setting off. She looked up to find a black-clad man blocking her doorway, sharp blade in one hand, other raised in a fist.

“Oh no…Oh no!” In sheer panic she dropped the basket and threw up her hands defensively, trying to back away from the would-be intruder.

Katsuro immediately softened his stance. “No, I…I’m not a thief! It’s safe!” he said, pocketing the kunai. “I only need to deliver something to the clan elder.”

The old woman, apparently a faithful family servant, accepted his explanation. She recovered from her shock enough to bow deeply, wringing her trembling hands together. Katsuro looked over her her bobbing gray-streaked bun to scan the interior. Typical clan compound, he noted, large rooms and long halls all built around a series of courtyards.

“S-Sir, the head family is out for the day,” she said between gasps. “They will be back by midday tomorrow, sir. May I tell them who—”

She continued speaking and bowing, never raising her eyes. Which was fortunate for Katsuro…because the old woman never saw the slight flicker in Katsuro’s henge from the fury that momentarily gripped him.

Tomorrow?! Why that little…

“No,” Katsuro bit out. “I’ll come back. Tomorrow.” He turned on his heel to go. “Thank you,” he said over his shoulder, maintaining the polite facade only as an afterthought.

He strode quickly out of the compound, stopping only when he was beyond a small rise in the road, safely out of sight of the complex. He let the henge drop. Staring unseeing across the still winter-brown fields, Katsuro worked over his options. A muscle at his jaw jumped.

If he stayed, then he’d miss Sakura. And that twit of a younger brother may put him off again. Then again, if he traveled the long hours to see her, he’d only have a few hours to catch some sleep before he had to trek back. But it could be done….

Katsuro tipped his face toward the sky, gauging the position of the sun, the distance he’d need to travel, and just how many hours it would eat up. The tightness in his expression softened at the thought of seeing her. His eyes shined blue with reflected light.

Yes, he could do it. If he traveled without stopping, he’d get there late tonight. And as long as he left before dawn, he could be back here by midday. Then he’d be done with this pain of an assignment.

Besides he needed to spend as much time with Sakura as he could. He could already feel the time slipping away from him.

This trip he’d have to tell her it was simply too dangerous to meet again. They’d managed to make it this far undetected, but with Itachi back…well, it was only a matter of time before he’d figure it out. He knew Itachi was suspicious. But there was nothing to fear yet. He had covered all their tracks.

The funny thing was, he didn’t even care if Itachi discovered anything about him. He could get as angry as he wanted if he thought Katsuro had just dawdled away his hours. Alone. But if he somehow put her in danger…. That gripping, vulnerable feeling awakened at the thought. And it moved him to speak to her about it, a task which he dreaded only slightly less.

He didn’t want to see her look of disappointment, or fumble for answers to the questions she was sure to ask.

All of this a cast dark shadow over his time with her, before it’d even begun.

Dragging a hand across the back of his neck, Katsuro worked stridently to push back his fears. Nothing had happened, no one knew. They were still ok. He would go to the festival and tell her, right away, that they couldn’t see each other after this and that she should stay alert. Then they could get on with enjoying their time together.

Feeling better, Katsuro turned his eyes to the line of trees at the far edge of the fields. Darkened by midday shadows, the woods stretched away as far as he could see. And somewhere beyond that was the cherry blossom festival. Katsuro fixed the bag of coins securely to his waist and set off.

And, true to his plan, before the light of the next day slanted over the horizon, Katsuro was already treading back over the same deserted woodlands. His travel wasn’t nearly as expeditious as it had been the afternoon before, when he was moving swiftly toward her.

Now the going was slow. His legs felt heavier and he was tired from the extra hours of travel. But he didn’t begrudge a single step. Meeting her had been the right thing to do. Even if he did manage to drop the bag of coins, she was too good to say anything about it. She trusted him. He’d never known anything like it. He smiled to himself, breathing deeply.

But another thought prodded him. He knew he had to tell her his fears, that Itachi was too close, that he didn’t think he would see her again. Tonight, he thought. He’d tell her tonight for sure, when he finished up here. She wanted him to come back for some activity. He couldn’t quite remember; he scratched his head, frowning. No matter, he’d think about it later. Right now, he had a job to do.

Katsuro bounced down to the lower branches and blurred through the handseals of a henge. Turning out onto the lane near the white-walled clan compound, he dusted the black cloak, ridding himself of hard road travel. And old farmer looked up from his field at the newcomer. He nudged another farmhand, and both leaned on their rakes watching the black-clad interloper. Katsuro ignored them.

The gate was unlocked, and passing up the walk, Katsuro heard the unmistakeable sounds of bustling activity within the compound.

‘Good,’ he thought. ‘Just drop this off and be on my way—’

“There you are,” the wiry younger brother called from the doorway. He strode down the path toward Katsuro. “You have some nerve, pilfering our stores while we were away!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” the brother hissed, his thin mustache shivering. “One of the farmers saw you last night creeping around the store house. Said the lock was pried and food was missing. Same as the lock on our front gate!” He huffed. “Just because you won’t hand over your delivery doesn’t mean you can steal our things!”

“But I wasn’t even—”

“And the old housekeeper even saw you!”

“No…no I saw her yesterday—”

“Don’t pretend it wasn’t you!” He shook his head in disgust, looking Katsuro up and down. “No one else here wears such dreadful clothes.”  Apparently satisfied with the come-uppance, the younger brother wheeled around and headed back to the door, ignoring Katsuro completely.

Katsuro gaped for a moment, trying to process what he’d just heard. Both those places he’d been, but the timing was off.

He narrowed his eyes. Someone was here, dressed as him, breaking in and stealing food? Unlikely. Katsuro knew the chances of another shinobi being out here were less than zero. It sounded more like a distraction, an easy excuse in case anyone saw a black-clad man skulking around.

“My brother isn’t here. Come back tomorrow,” the man sneered from the door. Then the door swished shut.

Katsuro let the man retreat without another word, but only because it suited him. He was well and truly angry; the younger brother was clearly playing games. But at that moment Katsuro had more pressing concerns.

Was this a message from his group? Had the deal changed?

Heading back down the path, his eyes roved over every inch, looking for another clue, another sign. Something only he would notice. But there was nothing.

He searched the front gate, the barn, everywhere he’d been and anywhere a note might have been stashed. But there was nothing. The lock on the gate had definitely been pried. But Katsuro was nearly certain he didn’t make those marks. The gouges on the metal looked to be made by someone inexperienced with a blade. Perhaps it was just a common thief.

After a few more hours of scouting around, Katsuro had nothing more to show for it than dusty hands and dirt-smudged knees. He had searched out every possible nook and cranny that a message might have been placed for him. But still he found nothing. He could only presume the deal was still on.

But it didn’t answer the question of who was here. Was it really a thief? Or was it someone else…someone looking for him?

Katsuro squinted against the afternoon sun. Wiping sweat from his brow, he brushed the bag of coins with his arm.

The metallic tinkling brought a sigh of frustration. He had to get going, in order to meet Sakura for…. What was it she wanted to do? Visit the festival? He wasn’t sure that was the best idea. Especially with a sack of money tied to his waist.

Katsuro glanced at the rooftops, the building corners, the fields and woodlands one last time, hoping some sign would be revealed. But of course there was nothing. Just like it had been all afternoon.

And it probably was nothing, but the idea set him on edge. What if someone was looking for him, and saw him leave. What if someone followed him to the festival….

The chilling feeling that he could somehow expose Sakura to danger rippled up. Katsuro grit his teeth against it, telling himself it was probably just a local thief. Even as he glanced at the rooftops.

Katsuro refocused. He needed to leave. It was late enough as it was. He had to tell Sakura. Tonight. This was probably nothing, but she needed to know. He tugged the bag of coins, making sure they were secure.

Blinking at the field, mapping out the invisible path he would take to the village, Katsuro decided he would hide the sack in the woods before he went down into the festival. That way there would be no more slip-ups. That made him feel a little bit better about leaving while he still didn’t know who was hanging around.

He glanced around again. Still nothing. He shook off his worries and left for the village….

That had only been a few hours before, but it felt like it days.

Katsuro yawned again, deeply. Shifting in the leaves jostled the bag of coins. ‘Tomorrow,’ he told himself, eyelids growing heavy, ‘I’ll tell her tomorrow. And I’ll get rid of the money. Tomorrow.’ He’d make sure of that, he thought sleepily.

But sooner than he could have ever imagined, the sun was already climbing back up in the sky.

“Shit,” Katsuro muttered, blinking into the morning light. He scrambled up, brown leaves flying. In a frenzy, he grabbed the money, whipped on his cloak and took to the branches.

After the burst of adrenaline at waking up late, this time his journey was slower than ever. The bag of coins hung like an anchor at his waist, a constant reminder of how wrong this mission was going.

Well, he’d fix that today. He didn’t care where the elder brother was, he’d find him and finish this mission. The determination helped him ignore his fatigue.

Hours later, Katsuro stood at the door of the complex. Muscles still pulsing from exertion, he tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to let some cool air in.

The younger brother answered the call of visitor. Katsuro no longer expected to be admitted to see the clan head. But this time the thin man looked particularly tweaked.

“I told you, if you were going to steal from us, then the deal is off.”

Katsuro was reaching back for the money. “What are you talking about—”

“Put that away, we’ve already had enough evidence of your ways.” The man dipped a hand into the long pocket of this robe.

Frowning thunderously, Katsuro pulled out the sack, jostling the coins inside and proving he had no weapon. He was just deciding to use a genjutsu on the frustrating man when he drew something unexpected out of his robe. Something horrifyingly familiar.

“I think this belongs to you? No one around here has any use for such ‘tools,'” he spat out. “And you seem to be so fond of brandishing yours.”

Hooked on his thin finger, a dull grey kunai swung in front of Katsuro’s face. Only the silver edges and a series of scrapes on the blade picked up the light.

Katsuro couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The sack of coins slipped from his hand, clinking loudly on the step.

The younger brother arched an eyebrow at Katsuro, pleased to have surprised him.

And Katsuro was surprised. Shocked.

He cautiously took the kunai, almost afraid to touch it. But there was no mistake: it was his. Long scratches marred the flat of the blade, from where the whetstone nicked it just a few weeks before. His hand had slipped, scratching the kunai and slicing his finger on the sharpened edge.

Katsuro knew with certainty he had not packed the weapon in his pouch. In fact, he could not remember the last time he’d seen it.

His blood went cold. “Wh-where did you get this?”

The man scooped up the bag, smiling toothily. “You shinobis have such vile ways. Always resorting to violence anytime someone—”

Katsuro grabbed the front of his robe, shaking him. “Where did you find this?”

“Shouldn’t you already know? Sticking out of the gate post, like a message? So crude….” Katsuro whirled around to see if there were some other clue left behind. The brother retreated to the safety of the doorway. “There now. You’ve made your delivery,” he said, jingling the money in his hand tauntingly. “Now, be gone. Shoo!” And he quickly slid the door closed.

Katsuro’s heart pounded. He looked everywhere at once. But he couldn’t detect another presence or anything else out of place.

What could it mean? His group never left such overt messages. But the kunai was definitely his. Could it be from someone else? Was this who was here the night before, dressed like a shinobi? Was someone watching him, lying in wait, hoping to flush him out—

The clack of the door latch falling snapped Katsuro to attention. The slippery younger brother had taken the money. Dammit! He had to make sure that money made it to the elder brother. Glancing at the kunai in his hand, Katsuro swallowed the cold fear that someone was after him.

No, he told himself, this was a message from his group. It had to be.

He shoved the weapon into his pouch. He’d deal with that later. Right now, he had to make sure the money made it into the right hands.

Katsuro pushed on the door but it was soundly locked. Skidding back down the path, he turned and leapt to the tiled roof. He followed the spine as it zig-zagged around the complex. One foot in front of the other, head low, he watched the inside of the compound for the family suites…as well as the land surrounding the complex for anything out of the ordinary.

The gentle swish of a door opening came from somewhere below him.

“Brother….” a deep voice echoed up from the next courtyard. “I was just wondering where you’d gotten off to….”

The clan head. The older brother. It had to be him. That was his target.

Katsuro leapt silently over the adjoining roof, carefully picking his way down the tiles. When the clan head was alone, he’d approach him and make sure the younger brother had delivered—

A slightly whinier voice carried up. “Oh, you know, here and there.”

“Was someone here? I am expecting….”

“Oh no! Not at all. It was just an old farmer delivering potatoes—”

Something in Katsuro snapped. He had been thwarted for days, and he’d had enough. The searing heat licking up from his gut now was unmistakeable.

Interior doors rustled open, then closed again; the muffled talking grew closer. They were moving towards the main house. He knew he needed to stop them here.

Katsuro spied an empty courtyard ahead of him, between the family suites and the main house, and exposed on one side to the grounds.

Good, less eyes to observe.

In a fluid bound, he dropped down into the open space, landing in a crouch. A whisper of dust puffed out at his feet. Rising warily, Katsuro scanned the building to see if he’d been detected. But no one came running. Moving swiftly to the long covered porch, he padded down the boards towards the family rooms. His footfalls on the glossed wood were completely soundless.

Just ahead, noises of movement came from beyond a large papered door, growing louder. Katsuro slowed, hoping to edge a little closer to the room before the brothers came out. Foot squarely on a wide board, he was just shifting his weight when the wood gave way with a low groan.

Katsuro held his breath and eased up, rocking slowly back onto his other foot. It worked. The board went back into position with a sigh. Sidestepping the loose board, he gingerly tested the next one, gaining a few more steps before the large door to the family rooms slid back.

Completely silent, Katsuro waited.

Sounds of talking, the rustle of movement drifted through the opening. An attendant stepped out and turned to hold the door, never looking up. Which was regrettable, because when the two brothers finally came through the door, turning to walk side-by-side down the long porch, they very nearly collided with the solid, black-clad man blocking their path.

Both men froze; the younger brother squeaked.

Katsuro shifted his feet apart just slightly, digging in his stance. He felt more in control than he had in days. Breathing deeply, he finally let a little of the kyuubi’s chakra seep up into his chest. The warmth was strangely reassuring.

The two men recovered quickly. The older brother, the one with the round belly and much more sumptuous silks than the younger, looked Katsuro up and down coldly. Beside him, the younger brother glanced between the two, nervously smoothing his thin mustache.

“Er…and he came by of course,” the wiry man said with a shaky laugh. “Did I forget to mention?”

Tightening his fists, Katsuro thought about how much he’d like to throttle that man. As if responding, another stronger surge of dark chakra pulsed through him. Katsuro ignored it.

But the elder brother proved he was more versed in these situations. He calmly dismissed the attendant, asking politely for a moment of privacy with their old friend. Then he turned back to Katsuro with a icy glare.

“My younger brother tells me you have been delayed.” Katsuro’s eyes widened at the lie. “But that is to be forgiven…now that you are here with your delivery.”

Katsuro’s anger turned smug. He looked to the younger brother, who had obviously pocketed the money.

Now it was his turn to look flustered. “Oh, yes of course! I must have forgotten!”

Then he drew the money from a deep fold at the back of his robe. Katsuro sighed inwardly in relief.

“Ah, already anticipating me,” the elder smiled and said to the younger, taking the bag. “What would I do without you?” The younger brother fawned, playing his role of dutiful sibling to the hilt.

The clan head glanced at Katsuro, then frowned again, remembering something. “Ah, dear brother, another favor: From the lacquered chest, please bring me the scroll with the red tassel. It’s in the top drawer. Thank you.”

“Of course, brother. Anything you ask,” the younger answered in a sickeningly sweet tone.

The clan head was still inspecting the contents of the bag when the brother returned.

“All is as it appears, and in the correct amount,” said the elder. “So that scroll goes with him.”

Katsuro held out an open palm, waiting for his payment. But the wiry brother had one last stunt: He bounced the scroll tauntingly over his hand a few times, hoping Katsuro would take it just so he could snatch it away again.

Katsuro didn’t move. He just stared straight at the man’s hatchet face. And told himself not to kill him. Waiting for the moment of distraction, when the younger brother realized he wouldn’t get the response he hoped for, Katsuro never shifted his focus when he tore the scroll out of his grasp.

Fresh anger was threading through his insides now, tearing at the cracks that Katsuro had already made. It was time to go. He turned on his heel, but the elder brother’s deep voice stopped him.

“Such manners…. I would have expected more from a Kiri shinobi.” Katsuro breathed deeply and turned back to the man. “Your turning out to be nothing more than a common thief.”

Katsuro was furious, but said nothing.

“Tell your man I will agree to the terms we discussed. However,” he flicked cold eyes at Katsuro, “since you kept me waiting, I require you to take care of our little ‘problem’ before you leave.” The man leveled a hard stare at Katsuro, grinding his fist around the neck of the sack. “Because if I find that so much as one more grain of rice has been pilfered,” he growled, “then the deal’s off.”

Katsuro nodded tightly. “No one else will bother you.”

“Excellent,” the man’s smooth tones returned. The sack of money disappeared into a fold of the robe, and the clan head turned toward the main quarters.

“Brother, check with the groundsman to see about installing some security measures on this side of the house.”

The younger brother fell into step with his sibling. “Of course. I’ll see to it right away.” He shot Katsuro one last snide look over his shoulder.

Katsuro forced himself to let it go. This mission had cost him enough time already. He turned, stepped off the porch and bounded up to the roof.

The extra kunai dug into his leg as he jumped. He paused for a moment, crouched low on the tiles, taking the opportunity to see everything from the higher perspective.

Katsuro meant what he said: No one else would bother the man. Because there was no criminal here. The theft, the kunai — both were a message. For him.

But he had no idea what it could mean.

He set to searching the area, canvassing the same places again. But he no longer looked for a hidden scroll or a scrawled note on something that only he was sure to see. This time he looked for an encampment. If someone from his group was here, then there would be a trace.

But hours later, he’d found nothing. And he was more frustrated than ever.

Katsuro sat on the bale of hay where he’d spent his only night in this forgotten place. Leaning his back against the barn, Katsuro let his eyes slide closed for a moment in the cool shade. He was beyond thinking he’d be caught. Whoever had been here was gone now. But he was pretty sure they’d be back.

If he didn’t have to meet Sakura, he’d stay here, lie in wait and discover who was searching for him.

But he couldn’t.

He had to make a choice: If he waited then he’d miss Sakura. She was leaving tomorrow, he might not get another chance to see her. And if he waited, and no one came, or the message was of little importance, he would have given up his only chance.

But if he left, there was the risk that someone was watching him, waiting for him to move. Even now…. His gaze swept the horizon.

It was a terrible risk to go to the festival. What if someone saw him go, pursued him there?

Fate was indeed cruel to him: When he was finally free of his obligation, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he no longer had the freedom to see her. It was simply too dangerous.

The choice was clear: He had to go to the festival. He had to tell her.

Coming to his decision only made him more nervous, however. He realized how much time he’d wasted there poking around for nonexistent clues. And the closer it drew to sunset, the more exposed he was to discovery.

Whoever was hoping to catch him was coming at night. But Katsuro had inadvertently thwarted them in this ridiculous mission. By being forced to travel to the festival each night, he had missed them.

In the purpling light, Katsuro leapt to the trees. The loop of the kunai digging into his thigh. He watched every flutter of leaves and every movement on the ground, hoping he wouldn’t intercept whoever was after him. Or worse, that he’d already given himself away.

The trip felt twice as long as all the others. Worry and deepening exhaustion weighed down each step. And the prospect of traveling at night didn’t help matters at all.

He yawned suddenly, the tight coil of anxiety easing for a moment. But as he continued, mind retracing the same information, the vulnerable feeling ratcheted back up.

He’d gone through it hundreds of time, who knew of his mission, when did he last see that kunai. Why it, and why him? He’d done nothing out of the ordinary, and given no reason for anyone, Itachi included, to give a second thought to any of his actions—

The branch cracked suddenly underneath him and Katsuro plummeted. He hastily grabbed another branch and swung himself back up. But he had to stop for a moment. In that instant, when his adrenaline surged, the hot, angry chakra shot in with it. He gulped against the searing pain in his chest.

To think it could get this far, he thought. That this mission could put him in so much distress that the demon thought it’s host body was under threat.

Katsuro shook his head, rubbed his eyes. The light was playing tricks on him. He was tired. His legs felt as stiff as the thick branches beneath him. But there was no time for rest. Refocusing, Katsuro slowly began again, leaping from limb to limb, disregarding the burning protest from his muscles. But the searing chakra that had taken hold in his chest was proving the hardest to ignore.