We set off. The tempo was jagged; I couldn't maintain my usual sprint because of that damned arm, which flared with a dull, grueling ache at every leap.
The pills were working in a strange way—they had smothered my fear, but in its place, they slipped in a sort of sticky detachment. The forest looked painted, the sounds felt counterfeit.
"I must be losing my mind from the pain," the thought flickered through my head as I caught myself counting my steps just to keep from sliding into unconsciousness.
We pushed on for about three hours before I raised my left hand again, signaling a halt.
— Taking a break, — I said, landing heavily on the broad branch of an ancient oak.
Guy and Genma immediately took up positions at the edges, scanning the woods. Tsubaki sat beside me, her breath hitching, her face a pale grey from exhaustion. The break was short and silent; no one wanted to make a sound they didn't have to. Genma wordlessly pulled out a flask and handed it to me. The water felt ice-cold and tasteless, but it cleared the fog in my mind just a little.
— The Land of Rivers is still six or seven hours away, — I said, checking my internal compass against the map etched into my memory. — And that's only if we don't slow down.
I looked around at the group. Guy's eternal enthusiasm seemed to have cooled; the battle had clearly drained him too. Genma spat out a mangled senbon and looked intently at my bandaged arm.
— The crash from the pills won't hit for another three days, so we have time, — he noted rationally.
— Genma is right! — Guy added, though a spark still flickered in his eyes. — It might be better to pace ourselves.
Mizuki, sitting a bit further off and rubbing his battered leg, gave a skeptical grunt.
— You're forgetting about Akame-san. If he's alive and leading the pursuit away, every hour we rest is an extra risk for him. — I say we go without stopping. While the pills are keeping us on our feet, we need to use this "window."
— Kotetsu... — Tsubaki gently touched my good shoulder. — Your arm... it looks terrible. The ointments are only barely holding back the infection. The longer we stay in the forest, the less chance the hospital has of saving it. I vote to push through without long breaks—just five-minute breathers every hour. That way we keep the pace without dropping dead.
I listened to them, feeling that cold indifference—the gift of the military rations—stirring inside me. There was no fear, only dry calculation. So this was what it meant to lead?
— Alright, here is the plan, — I cut in, standing up. — No long halts. Five minutes of rest for every hour and a half of running. Guy, you lead—set a pace that Mizuki and Tsubaki can sustain.
We tore off again. Now, the forest blurred past like a smeared green canvas. Because of the pills, my perception of time had finally broken; it felt as though only five minutes had passed, yet the landscape had already shifted into rugged, rocky terrain.
"Our goal is the Bridge of Forgotten Rain," the words pulsed in my head in time with my heartbeat. "The border between the Land of Rivers and Amegakure. It's likely the Iwa shinobi slipped into our territory through these lands. The rain hides tracks forever, and their sensors are useless there. If we reach the bridge, our people should be there. They'll meet us."
The final miles were particularly brutal. We hardly spoke, hoarding our strength for the ultimate push. The ascent grew steeper, the air turning heavy and damp. My knees throbbed from the endless leaping across slick stones, and my good hand frequently snatched at jagged rock outcroppings as the forest canopy thinned into sparse scrub. The landscape gradually drowned in a thick haze, until the roar of a distant torrent finally drowned out the whistle of the wind in my ears.
We reached the foot of the cliffs and finally saw it. The Bridge of Forgotten Rain cut through the night mist like a grey ribbon. It was already around ten in the evening, and the darkness felt as thick as pitch, but for a shinobi, this was our hour.
We had barely stepped onto the stonework when two figures rose from the shadows of the rocks like ghosts.
— Halt. Not a step further, — a cold, emotionless voice forced the squad to freeze in place.
Two border guard Chunin blocked the path. One held his hand on the hilt of a tanto, while the other had already formed a concentration seal, scanning our chakra. They had sensed our approach from half a kilometer away.
— Konoha delivery squad, — I rasped, stepping forward. — We have an urgent report.
It was best not to spread the rest of the details yet.
— Everyone says that, — one of the guards replied, squinting. His gaze flicked over my blood-stained bandages and the pale faces of Tsubaki and Mizuki.
— Drop your weapons. Hands behind your heads. Now.
— And how do we know you're actually from Konoha? — I exhaled, cutting him off. My voice broke into a hoarse whisper.
— Bold, — a cold, detached voice rang out from somewhere above, hidden in the darkness of the cliffs. — But foolish. If we were enemies, your head would already be rolling across this bridge.
Even without being a sensor, I could feel a massive chakra emanating from him. If he wanted us dead, we wouldn't have stood a chance. A tall man in a standard Jonin vest stepped slowly out of the shadows. His eyes glowed in the dark with a soft, haunting milky-white light. The veins around his temples were bulged, betraying an active dojutsu.
— Byakugan... — Genma whispered, lowering his hand with the senbon. — It's a Hyuga.
The Jonin walked right up to us. His gaze seemed to stitch right through us.
— I am Hyuga Tokuma, commander of Outpost Node-4, — he said, deactivating his eyes. — Your vigilance is commendable, Chunin... what was your name?
— Kotetsu. Kotetsu Hagane, — I replied.
Tokuma gave me a brief, heavy look. His Byakugan was off, but it felt as though he could still see right through me. Perhaps he could.
— Your right arm is quite badly damaged. Follow me.
— How did you—? — I started, but he cut me off with a short gesture.
— I simply know. You don't need to know more.
We moved through narrow corridors carved into the rock. Node-4 functioned like a well-oiled mechanism: shinobi scurried everywhere, the air smelled of ozone from protective barriers and the sharp scent of medicine. We were led into a private room—an austere office with a massive desk and maps lining the walls. Tokuma took a seat and gestured for us to take the bench.
— Now, for the scrolls. Report.
With my left hand, I pulled out the sealed scrolls and laid them on the table. My voice sounded hollow as I began to recount the events of the last few hours: the Iwa ambush, Akame's disappearance, the clash with their elite Chunin, and our grueling marathon. Tokuma listened in silence, his face a mask of stone, though his fingers tapped almost imperceptibly on the desk when I mentioned the number of enemies.
When I finished, a heavy silence filled the room for a moment. The Hyuga picked up one of the scrolls, checking the integrity of the seals.
— You have done your part, — he finally said.
He rose abruptly and summoned the guard at the door.
— Everyone to the medical bay. Immediately. Prepare detox solutions to flush the pills and call for the best medic we have for Hagane.
Tsubaki, Guy, and Mizuki, swaying from the sudden rush of fatigue, followed the orderlies. I wanted to ask about the search for Akame, but Tokuma simply threw a short remark over his shoulder:
— We will send a search party. As for you... you've already done everything you could. Go get treated.