Kakashi's words—"sometimes, a crowd is the best hiding place"—struck Qianyu like a physical blow.
His mind had been stuck on one track. If Karin's mother was in hiding, she'd choose a remote, sparsely populated location. He'd never considered the current state of the Land of Grass.
This nation was a chessboard for Konoha and Iwa. Nowhere outside Kusa Village itself was truly safe. Skirmishes could erupt anywhere, anytime.
But Kusa Village? It stood neutral. Konoha shinobi and Iwa-nin wouldn't attack it without provocation.
It was the safest place in the entire country.
And the people of Grass knew it. Refugees flooded the village, seeking shelter.
Red hair was rare, sure. But this was the shinobi world. Hair colors were weird. Kakashi's silvery-white. Minato Namikaze's bright yellow. The orange of the Six Paths of Pain. Even Gaara—who had no connection to the Uzumaki—had red hair.
The mental block shattered. The most unlikely place became the most probable.
Qianyu grinned, ruffling Kakashi's hair. "Kakashi. You're a damn genius."
Kakashi shot him a flat look and smoothed his mussed hair. After stripping the dead Iwa-nin of their gear—their own supplies were long gone—they set off for Kusa Village.
They reached the outskirts a day later.
Kakashi let out a low whistle. The perimeter was crawling with heavily armed Kusa-nin. "Tight security."
"Can't blame them," Qianyu said. "They're surviving in the cracks. Offend Konoha or Iwa, and they're dead. Letting either side's shinobi inside is asking for trouble—gives the other side a pretext to attack. Better to avoid the hassle. We're using transformation."
With a quick transformation, their appearances shifted.
"We just go through the main gate?" Kakashi asked.
Qianyu shook his head. "Security checks will be a pain. We find another way in."
"But how? It's locked down tight."
A lightbulb went off in Kakashi's head. "A genjutsu. Right?"
"Smart. Follow me."
They found a lightly guarded section of the wall. Qianyu's hands flew through seals.
"Genjutsu: Temple of Nirvana!"
Illusory white feathers drifted through the air. The guards' eyes glazed over, lulled by an irresistible drowsiness. One by one, they slumped to the ground, sound asleep.
"Let's go."
Kakashi followed, eyeing the unconscious ninja with interest. "Sensei. Can you teach me that one?"
"Ah… Kakashi, let's be reasonable. Stick to ninjutsu. Or I can teach you a C-rank genjutsu. This one's A-rank. Don't torture yourself."
Qianyu's refusal was gentle but firm. It wasn't about willingness. Kakashi's talent for genjutsu just couldn't match his prodigious skill with ninjutsu. Better to hone his strengths.
Kakashi pressed his lips together. He'd tried learning genjutsu before. It always felt like forcing a square peg into a round hole. An A-rank? Yeah, no. Not worth the headache.
Inside Kusa Village, the air was thick with despair.
The streets were choked. Makeshift shelters everywhere. The sound of muffled sobs hung over the crowded lanes. Faces etched with worry, with defeat. A heavy, suffocating gloom.
Qianyu and Kakashi walked through it, expressions neutral. The weight of it still pressed down. This was the fate of a minor village. Their homeland, a battlefield for greater powers. Helpless. Surviving on the whims of others.
Kakashi kept his voice low. "Sensei. With this many people… how do we find her?"
"Uzumaki have exceptionally powerful chakra," Qianyu answered. "If she's here, she'll stand out. We sweep the village, sector by sector."
Karin inherited her massive chakra reserves and sensory prowess from her mother. The source had to be strong.
Qianyu activated his Observation Haki, his perception expanding, combing through the sea of people.
Halfway through the sweep, he stopped dead.
"Got it."
His senses locked onto a human-shaped furnace of chakra, blazing amid the dimmer flickers of the crowd.
"Come on, Kakashi!"
Finally. After all this searching. Anticipation crackled through him. Everything else—the plans, the future—depended on this first step.
They moved, weaving through the crowded streets toward the source.
The trail led to a food distribution point. A long, miserable line of people.
And there, in the middle, was a woman with fiery red hair.
She was gaunt. Skin stretched thin over bone. Days of hunger, of malnutrition, etched into her frame.
Qianyu stepped in front of her. "I have food. And I'd like to talk."
Her eyes, dull and lifeless, met his. "I don't know you."
"You don't. But I know your kin. And I can offer you a way out. A life a hundred times better than this."
At the mention of her kin, her pupils contracted.
"You've mistaken me for someone else."
She turned, abandoning her place in line, trying to hurry away.
Qianyu's hand closed around her wrist. His voice dropped, firm and final. "I mean you no harm. But this isn't a request. You can come willingly, and we talk. Or I take you by force. Your choice."
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