The dirt road kicked up a cloud of grit that tasted like old earth and dead needles.
I sat on the unpolished planks of the trailer, my tailbone rattling against the grain with every heavy strike of the horse's hooves. November bit at my skin through the mesh on my arms—a sharp, damp cold that pooled in the bottom of the open cart.
Ahead, the covered wagon hauled the heavy weight: Gantetsu, bound in iron; Todoroki, hand locked to his hilt; and Captain Tsuzumi. A line of guards trailed them, their uniforms a repetitive blur of dark greens that flickered in and out between the fir trunks.
Even from this distance, I could hear the iron when the wagon shifted—chain against chain, a dull, dragging knock that didn't match the rhythm of the wheels.
Naruto paced the narrow trailer, his boots scuffing the wood. "They all look exactly the same," he muttered, gesturing at the guards. "No style. No flare. Just... dull."
"Says the boy in orange," I said, pulling my dark blue gaiter higher until the fabric caught the warmth of my breath. "The one who's supposed to be a ninja."
"I AM a ninja!" Naruto snapped. His jacket practically hummed against the grey highland light.
"You aren't stealthy at all, Naruto. You have the profile of a flare."
"Ninjas don't always need to hide! Sometimes you gotta stand out so the bad guys know who's coming! I can be sneaky!"
Anko reached out, her hand landing on Naruto's head with a solid thud. She ruffled his hair until it stood up in even more of a jagged mess. "You're a neon megaphone, kid. We could track you through a blizzard with our eyes shut."
Naruto let out a frustrated huff, shaking his head to dislodge her hand. "Fine! I'm a ninja megaphone then! Believe it!"
He turned toward the front, searching for reinforcement. "Kakashi-sensei! Tell her! Stealth is overrated, right?"
Kakashi didn't turn. He walked with a lazy slouch, hands buried in his pockets, then angled toward Tsuzumi's wagon.
"Sensei, why!" Naruto wailed.
Kakashi stopped and scratched the back of his head. He glanced back, his single visible eye heavy and bored. "Loudness belongs to the powerful, Naruto. The weak hide because they have to. If you want to wear orange, you'd better be the strongest thing in the woods."
He turned away before Naruto could respond.
Naruto went quiet. His face scrunched as he chewed on that thought, brows pulling inward like he was calculating force vectors and muscle output.
The road ended at a pier made of wide, uneven planks. The wood let out a deep groan as the guards marched across. Below, the river churned—a cold, violent teal that struck the pilings with a hollow slosh-hiss.
The boat sat low in the water, hull rocking even before we boarded. Chipped white paint peeled from the timber like dead skin, exposing wood darkened by silt and streaked with iron rust. The engine coughed once before settling into a grinding idle.
When they transferred Gantetsu from wagon to deck, four guards lifted in unison. The iron restraints rang once—sharp, clean, metallic. He didn't resist. Didn't shift. His weight hung evenly between them.
Too evenly.
They secured him inside a heavy-timbered cage bolted directly to the deck and cinched down with salt-crusted hemp ropes. One guard tested the knots twice. Another tightened the wrist shackles another notch. The iron bit deeper.
Gantetsu did not react.
He sat cross-legged once they pushed him down, spine straight, eyes forward. Not scanning. Not challenging. Just still.
The engine throttled up.
We cleared the pier and the river caught us immediately. The hull tilted starboard, then corrected. The cage shifted half an inch against its lashings with a thick wooden thud.
Naruto stopped mid-sentence.
The boat settled into a thrum-thud rhythm against the current, each rotation vibrating up through the deck boards and into my teeth. The sound blurred conversation into something softer, flatter.
I sat beside Naruto. The engine's frequency crawled up my spine and pooled behind my eyes. Kakashi leaned against the stern railing, skin pale beneath his mask. His fingers tightened briefly on the wood each time the hull dipped.
Anko perched on a crate, the timber creaking beneath her. She bit into a green-tinted dango.
Clack.
The sugar glaze caught the light as she chewed.
Naruto crossed his arms. "It's stupid. Why can't we talk to him? He's right there!"
He wasn't wrong. From here, the cage was only twenty steps away.
"Because Todoroki wants a reason to draw that sword," I said. "And Tsuzumi wants this clean."
Naruto leaned sideways, trying to peer past a guard's shoulder. The guard shifted deliberately, blocking the line of sight without looking at him.
"But I'm bored!" Naruto stood and punched the air with a vrip-vrip of his sleeves. "We're just sitting here while the boat does the work!"
The hull struck a cross-current. The deck rolled hard enough that Naruto stumbled, boot scraping for purchase. The ropes binding the cage groaned under tension.
From inside, there was no flinch.
No brace.
Just stillness.
"Patience, Naruto," Kakashi murmured.
"Patients are for hospitals, Sensei! I want to fight bad guys!"
Naruto swung a wild hook. I ducked automatically, tracking the arc of his fist.
Anko laughed. "That's a good one, brat. Patients. Hospitals. I like it."
"Don't encourage him," Kakashi sighed.
The river narrowed ahead.
Through the mist, the broken vermilion arch of an old stone bridge emerged. Its shadow cut across the water like a blade. The captain adjusted the throttle. The engine pitch dropped, then strained.
We entered the shadow.
Sound changed first. The thrum deepened, compressed. Water slapped harder against the hull, echoing off stone. Spray carried upward in a cold mist that coated my gaiter in fine beads.
Visibility dropped to a tunnel of damp grey.
The cage creaked once.
Naruto glanced toward it again.
Gantetsu's eyes were open now.
Not scanning the banks.
Not measuring guards.
Watching the water slip past the hull.
Expression unreadable. Breathing steady. Chains slack.
We cleared the bridge and light returned in fractured strips through the trees. The engine leveled out.
Conversation didn't resume immediately.
I looked at the forest leaning over the river, branches interlocking above us until the channel felt less like a road and more like a narrowing corridor. The current pressed constantly at the hull, never letting us sit cleanly in the water.
"I guess I am bored too," I murmured.
It wasn't true.
I reached for my tan pouch, fingers brushing the cold rectangle of the cassette player Shino had left with me. I wanted the static—something predictable, something contained—but the air felt like a wet sponge. The mist carried mineral spray that slicked the deck and darkened the ropes around the cage. If that dampness got into the gears, they'd seize.
I pulled my hand away.
The further we moved from the village, the closer the trees leaned. Engine noise swallowed smaller sounds. Guards adjusted their spacing without speaking. Todoroki hadn't taken his hand off his hilt once.
The river curved sharply ahead.
If we were hit now, there would be nowhere to step.
Nowhere to run.
Just wood, water, and iron.