Hyūga Shigeo glanced around once more, then turned and quietly slipped out of the crowd.
In the next instant, he appeared far from the procession, high on a mist-covered hill where the port was no longer visible.
But through the faint blue light signals sent by Hikaru and Nami, he could tell the rafts were drifting west, toward the open sea.
Without hesitation, Shigeo leapt from the cliff and plunged into the ocean.
His body vanished into the depths.
The hunt had begun.
Out on the rafts, Hikaru and Nami were tense. Their minds were awake, but their bodies refused to move—locked stiff as if bound by invisible hands.
They couldn't even twitch a finger.
If not for the water-light transmitters fixed beneath their sandals, constantly pulsing their signal, Shigeo would never have known they were still alive.
Around them, sobbing rose from the other rafts.
The brides were awake—terrified, crying softly into the fog. They knew this journey was one-way. Whatever awaited them in the sea, it was not salvation.
Eventually, the procession stopped.
The old miko on the black boat turned her hunched body toward them.
The ringing of her bell ceased.
She was waiting—for something.
"Shhh…"
Hikaru forced himself upright. The enormous white wedding hat on his head blocked his Byakugan's view.
He tilted the brim aside and scanned the fog. He could hear the women's cries but saw no other rafts.
"Lie down."
The voice came from one of the maids kneeling beside him—flat, mechanical, lifeless.
He turned, startled. Two beautiful young women were kneeling there, faces perfect and expressionless.
Their shoulders were bare, their dresses open at the waist in delicate cutouts that revealed pale, narrow hips.
Had their eyes not been so dead, Hikaru might have tried to speak to them.
Something about them was wrong.
But they were stunningly beautiful.
Hikaru glanced once at the black sea and lay back down.
Even that brief movement had drained all his strength. He wasn't sure he could tear off the Chakra Suppression Talismans hidden beneath his robe if he tried now.
A cold pulse spread through the water.
Above the waves, the fog began to thin. The old miko's cracked voice rose in chant again, accompanied by the rhythmic rattle of her bell.
Her rasping song echoed across the water like a funeral hymn.
Dark clouds pressed low against the sea. The rain had stopped, but the air was suffocating.
The dull gray sky mirrored the dark water below, both heavy and still, and the smell—salt, iron, and something foul—drifted across the waves.
Something ancient stirred beneath the surface.
Below, Shigeo swam silently, cloaked by Mizu-on Jutsu (Water Concealment Technique).
The deeper he went, the stranger the sea became—its color no longer blue but red-black, like diluted blood.
The bell's vibration carried through the water, each pulse rippling against his skin, laced with an undercurrent of chakra and ritual chant.
The miko above continued her summoning.
Meanwhile, squads of investigative ninja from Moon City had caught up—
and immediately clashed with something in the depths.
Shigeo closed his eyes, activating sensory jutsu.
He crept along the seafloor, tracking the battle above.
Blades of sharpened water sliced through the dark like spears. The ocean had become a slaughterhouse.
Every investigator who charged forward was skewered in seconds.
Those few with greater skill tried to force their attackers upward—
but it was useless.
This was the enemy's domain.
Even the strongest could not breathe forever.
Whirling Suiton (Water Release) currents coiled around them, dragging them down until their chakra vanished into the abyss.
In less than five minutes, the first wave of investigators—dozens strong—was gone.
Slain before they could even identify their foe.
Were the enemy truly that powerful?
Through Kyōei Kanshi (Mirror Perception), Shigeo felt their chakra.
They were only jōnin-level at best—but they had one advantage: the battlefield itself.
Suiton-nin (Water-style users) fought best in water.
The investigators, though prepared, were uncoordinated strangers.
They were crushed by the terrain before strategy even mattered.
Above, the old miko still chanted, her bell shaking lazily, as though guiding souls to the deep.
Then the sea stilled.
The fourteen rafts floated quietly once more.
The enemy jōnin—roughly a dozen of them—slipped beneath a coral reef and vanished.
Hidden behind a boulder opposite them, Shigeo stayed still, watching through mirror perception.
Moments later, the surface rippled again.
A low, mournful wailing of women's voices carried across the water—soft yet piercing, like knives in the heart.
Then—from the shadows—sharks.
At least a dozen, cutting through the black water toward the rafts.
Shigeo's eyes narrowed.
Sharks? Now?
No—controlled.
If he hadn't seen the earlier battle, he might have doubted it, but this was no accident.
Someone was guiding them.
The surface erupted.
A splash—someone leapt into the water.
Shigeo tensed, ready to strike—
until he heard the voice:
"I'll kill you all!"
A pale figure hit the waves. Her chestnut-red hair fanned out behind her, her hands tearing the white kimono away to reveal a deep-blue combat dress beneath.
"Futton, Kōmū no Jutsu (Boil Release: Skilled Mist Technique)!"
A hiss filled the sea.
Boiling acid spread like a living cloud.
The sharks writhed as the water itself turned to scalding vapor.
Within seconds, four of the fourteen beasts dissolved into skeletal foam.
Terumi Mei's eyes flashed cold in the stormlight.
She was not yet the Fifth Mizukage—but her strength was undeniable.
Years later, when the elders of the Hidden Mist finally placed the Kage's hat on her head, it would be because of this strength—this will to fight even the sea itself.
(End of Chapter)
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