Hurried footsteps and a man's furious shouting echoed outside the cell door. Moments later, a shadowy figure appeared before the iron bars.
The man held an oil lamp in one hand, his pudgy face pressed against the cold metal. The dim yellow light cast eerie shadows across his features, and to the frightened children inside the cell, his appearance seemed grotesque—monstrous even.
The children, who had already been startled by Hyuga Satoru's sudden disappearance, now fell into terrified silence. Any sense of relief they'd felt moments ago vanished as they shrank into the corners, trembling and too afraid to meet the man's gaze.
"Heh… heh!"
The man chuckled in satisfaction, clearly pleased with the fear he inspired. He was about to turn away when his eyes suddenly widened. Pressing his face even closer to the bars, he began to mutter under his breath.
"One… two… three…"
His gaze swept across the room, counting the small, quivering figures one by one.
"Where's one of them?!"
The disbelief in his tone was quickly replaced by alarm. He counted again, but the result didn't change.
With a loud clang, he unlocked the door and stomped inside, shutting it behind him. The flickering lamplight swung wildly as he thrust it toward the children, illuminating the damp, filthy cell.
After confirming the headcount once more, his expression twisted with rage.
"Where is he?!" he roared. "That long-haired brat we just brought in—where is he?!"
His angry shouts reverberated through the cell, but none of the children dared respond. They kept their heads bowed, trembling like frightened animals. Their silence only enraged him further.
"Get out of my way!"
He grabbed a small boy by the collar and threw him aside. With a vicious kick, he scattered the pile of dry straw on the floor, as if expecting to find Satoru hidden underneath.
But even after shoving several children aside, he still found no trace of the boy. His eyes grew darker—more dangerous.
In the corner, Kazuko clutched a younger boy tightly to her chest. She kept her head down, trembling, unaware that the man's heavy footsteps were drawing closer and closer. His rough breathing brushed against her ear.
"Speak!" he snarled. "Where's that long-haired brat?!"
It seemed he recognized Kazuko. With one hand, he yanked the boy from her arms, and with the other, he seized a fistful of her hair, dragging her head upward until she faced him.
The pain tore a small cry from Kazuko's throat. Every bruise on her body ached as she was hauled up, tears welling uncontrollably in her eyes.
She forced her gaze upward, meeting the man's hideous face. Her voice trembled.
"He… he disappeared. He just vanished."
She spoke the truth—hoping honesty might spare her another beating. But instead, the man took her words as mockery.
"Disappeared?" His tone turned dangerously sharp. "What did you say?!"
"You're telling me… he just vanished?!"
He clamped a thick hand around her throat, squeezing hard enough that she could barely breathe. Her face flushed red, eyes wide in pain and panic. The man's expression twisted again—this time with something like sadistic pleasure.
He leaned close and, without warning, ran his tongue slowly across her cheek.
That single act tore open old memories buried deep in Kazuko's heart. Her body shook violently, tears streaming down her face.
"Heh… not talking, huh?"
He loosened his grip slightly, but his other hand wandered, tugging at the tattered fabric of her shirt—
—and then a whistle sliced through the air.
A kunai shot out of the shadows, embedding itself squarely in the man's back. It pierced clean through his heart.
He froze. A look of shock and confusion twisted his face as blood filled his throat. He never even had the strength to turn around before collapsing headfirst into the stone wall with a dull thud.
Kazuko flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. She knew what was supposed to come next—pain, humiliation, the same nightmare again. Her heart sank in numb resignation.
But instead of rough hands, she heard only the sound of a body hitting the wall… and then silence.
Then came a young, steady voice—one she vaguely recognized.
"Captain, there are a few more cells like this one," said the voice. "We're not sure how many traffickers there are, but we can set up an ambush and wait for them to come to us."
Kazuko opened her eyes in disbelief. Four figures now stood inside the cell.
Hyuga Satoru had returned—and with him were Aburame Shiwei, Uchiha Shisui, and Might Guy.
The one who had thrown the kunai was Shisui himself. Perhaps shaken by what he'd seen, his strike had been merciless—driving the weapon straight through the man's heart.
Hearing Satoru's calm report, Shisui scratched his head, a bit embarrassed. "Sorry… I didn't leave him alive for questioning."
Shiwei shook his head lightly and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Whether he's alive or not won't change anything."
The children stared blankly at the sudden appearance of the four strangers, fear and confusion mixing in their eyes.
Noticing their reaction, Shisui silently reached into his vest, pulled out his forehead protector, and tied it on. "We're ninja from the Hidden Leaf," he said gently. "We're here to take you all home."
His tone was calm and kind. As he spoke, the crimson tomoe of his Sharingan flickered to life. The next instant, the child who met his gaze slumped quietly to the floor, fast asleep.
To prevent panic—and to spare them the sight of the blood that would soon follow—Shisui cast a genjutsu over them all.
"Sleep well," he whispered softly. "When you wake up… everything will be over."
Then he noticed a key ring lying beside the corpse. He picked it up and stepped out of the cell, heading toward the other prison rooms without needing any further instruction.
Shiwei and Guy, meanwhile, turned toward the dungeon's entrance. Their plan was simple—anyone entering would be subdued on the spot. Anyone who resisted would be killed where they stood.
Satoru stayed behind for now, marking each sleeping child with the Flying Thunder God seal so he could teleport them out safely later.
But before he could finish, the sound of clashing steel echoed from the entrance.
"They've encountered a ninja?!"
Anyone capable of holding their own against both Shiwei and Guy couldn't be an ordinary trafficker—they had to be a shinobi, and a skilled one at that.
Without hesitation, Satoru focused on Guy's Flying Thunder God mark and instantly teleported to his location. He had marked every member of the team beforehand, precisely for moments like this.
The dungeon's entrance turned out to be an old warehouse.
The floor was littered with bodies—dozens of them. Only one remained alive: a small, sharply dressed man, now pinned beside Might Guy, clearly restrained.
Not far away, a figure draped entirely in a black cloak stood facing off against Aburame Shiwei. Judging from his attire, he didn't look like a trafficker… more like the well-dressed man's bodyguard.
"This group…" Satoru began, appearing beside Guy.
Guy jerked his chin toward the trembling man beside him. "They're buyers," he said grimly.
As the words left his mouth, the cloaked figure on the other side raised his kunai and slowly ran his tongue across the blade.
Then his head turned—his gaze locking briefly on Satoru and the others.
In the next instant, he vanished without a sound.
Satoru's eyes widened slightly. He had been just about to activate his Byakugan, but the enemy's withdrawal was so abrupt—so decisive—that even he was caught off guard.
…
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