Mei pulled her cloak further over her face, deepening the shadows.
She forced down the rising nausea in her throat and slowly straightened her body.
The sudden wave of sickness seemed to drain all her strength, and her body swayed slightly.
Was she too tired?
She wondered.
But as an elite Jōnin, this level of exertion should have been nothing.
Then... was she poisoned?
A more terrifying thought tightened her chest, and her gaze instantly turned cold.
Land of Water.
Reef Island.
This island was far from the mainland shipping routes, named for its turbulent surrounding currents and dense reefs, making it nearly impossible for ordinary ships to approach.
It was the stronghold of the Kirigakure Resistance.
Over three hundred survivors clung to life on this desolate island.
Inside a crude cave, a bonfire crackled, illuminating faces that were either hardened or exhausted.
A one-armed, middle-aged shinobi carefully picked bones from a piece of charred fish and handed it to a young boy with empty eyes.
"Eat, Keisuke," the man said gently. "Only by eating will you have the strength to wield a kunai and avenge your parents."
The boy named Keisuke bit into the fish fiercely, as though chewing the bones and blood of his enemies.
"Nagano-sama, do we... really still have hope?"
The boy's voice was filled with a weariness far beyond his years.
Nagano, the one-armed shinobi, was once a Jōnin of Kirigakure, known for his defensive Water Release techniques.
"Yes," he replied firmly. "Hope is in our hands."
"And in the future that Lady Mei is fighting to protect."
"The supplies she's sent have kept us alive until now."
Around them, dozens of shinobi paused in cleaning their weapons. At the mention of Mei, they looked up, and a faint light returned to their dull eyes.
Bloody Mist Village.
This cruel policy, enforced by the Fourth Mizukage, Yagura, had destroyed Kirigakure.
Countless comrades and loved ones had died in meaningless internal purges.
These survivors had either lost close family or seen their entire clans annihilated. Their hatred for Yagura was irreconcilable.
For them, the only reason to keep living was revenge.
To overthrow that puppet Mizukage, and end the cursed Bloody Mist era.
But they were too weak.
Three hundred people, many of them elderly, sick, or injured, their chakra long depleted from years of evasion.
And their enemy was the entire Hidden Mist Village.
It was only through the intelligence and supplies delivered by Mei and Gensui that they had survived repeated encirclements.
"As long as we endure..."
"We will definitely rebuild a true Hidden Mist!"
A young shinobi shouted with burning conviction.
Nagano looked at him, not dampening his spirit, only replying in a deep voice, "Before that day comes, what we must do is survive."
"Everyone, stay alert! Increase your vigilance!"
"Yes!"
Inside and outside the cave, despite the grim conditions, their will to fight had not been extinguished.
Meanwhile.
Kirigakure Port.
Over a thousand Kirigakure shinobi had assembled in silence.
Their eyes were void of emotion, filled only with numbness and coldness.
If anyone from Konoha saw them, they would be reminded of Root.
These people were the sharpest blades forged by the Bloody Mist era. Their hands were soaked in the blood of their own people.
Yagura stood above them.
In the shadows behind him, Obito watched quietly, his presence eerie and detached.
"The rebels' location has been identified," Yagura's emotionless voice rang out. "Target: Reef Island."
"This time, I want all their heads."
"Eliminate every last one."
"Yes!"
A thousand voices roared in unison, their killing intent causing ripples across the sea.
On a distant tower.
Biwa Jūzō stood, looking down at the assembled force preparing to depart.
He watched the brainwashed shinobi of his village getting ready to slaughter another group of equally desperate comrades, his eyes filled with conflict.
He hated this village.
But he still... couldn't let go completely.
"What a thoroughly boring farce," he muttered.
Behind him stood a member of the Kirigakure Assassination Squad.
But unlike the others, his eyes held something different—clarity and hatred.
His father, once a subordinate of Jūzō, had been killed during the Bloody Mist purges.
"Did you bring what I asked for?" Jūzō asked without turning.
"I brought it." The shinobi handed over a scroll, then added, "The rebel stronghold has been exposed."
"Yagura is personally leading the force. They're departing immediately."
Jūzō unrolled the scroll slowly.
Reef Island.
A place almost erased from all nautical maps.
"Is this information reliable?"
"Absolutely," the shinobi replied. "I personally heard Yagura give the order."
Jūzō fell silent.
He had never allied with the resistance, and had even killed many of them himself.
But... he thought of Mei.
That woman was part of the resistance.
Their relationship had once been quite good.
She now seemed to belong to that man.
Although Jūzō had seen Arashi's power once before, the recent news of him single-handedly crushing Kumo had still shocked him.
If the resistance was wiped out, what would become of Mei?
What would the Daimyo of the Land of Fire do?
"You."
After a long silence, Jūzō turned and asked, "Do you want revenge for your father?"
The shinobi's body tensed. Hatred flashed in his eyes as he replied without hesitation, "Yes!"
"Good."
Jūzō shoved the scroll into his arms.
"Then go. Now. As fast as you can. Get to Reef Island."
"Tell them everything."
The shinobi glanced at the scroll in his hand, then at the ships in the port already preparing to depart. Hesitation appeared on his face.
"It's probably too late."
"The fleet has Water Release specialists. They'll reach Reef Island in under an hour."
"I'll need at least three."
"Then run for your life," Jūzō said coldly.
"If you win, your father's revenge might finally have a chance."
"If you lose, then die with everything you hate and let the sea bury you."
The moment he finished speaking, Jūzō vanished, leaving nothing behind.
The young shinobi clenched the scroll tightly, looking out at the surging sea. Determination flashed in his eyes.
The next second.
He turned into a streak of afterimage, pouring all his chakra into his feet, racing toward the endless ocean.
On one side, the Kirigakure suppression squad surged across the sea, carrying the will to kill.
On the other, a lone messenger raced to deliver a warning, gambling his life for hope.
A race of life and death had begun.
(To be continued.)