Kumade tossed and turned on his tatami mat. Then, his eyes snapped open.
For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. Then it all came flooding back - the chase through Kiri's misty streets, and the small, run-down shrine where he and the villager he'd rescued had taken refuge.
He sat up slowly. The villager was still asleep, curled up in a corner. Kumade watched him for a moment, remembering their conversation from the night before.
----------
"Why did you help me?" the villager had asked, his voice trembling. "You don't even know me."
Kumade had shrugged. "It was the right thing to do. Now, can you tell me what's going on here?"
The villager had taken a deep breath, his eyes darting nervously to the shrine's entrance.
As he had begun to speak, the atmosphere in the small shrine had seemed to change, growing heavier, more oppressive.
"It was a night much like this," the villager had begun, his voice low and hushed.
"The mist was thick, clinging to everything like a second skin. My sister's husband had just returned from a trip to the Land of Waves."
"I'd never seen a man so shaken. He spoke of a journey that began like any other."
Kumade had leaned forward, drawn in by the villager's story.
"But as they neared the Land of Waves, everything changed. The stench hit them first. Rotting fish, he said, but worse."
"So strong it made hardened sailors retch over the side of the ship. And the fog... it rolled in from nowhere, thick as soup and cold as death. On a clear day, mind you."
The villager's hands had trembled as he had reached into his pocket. "But that wasn't the worst of it. No, the true horror came when they docked."
He had pulled out a small object and held it out to Kumade.
In the dim light, a gold coin had glinted. Kumade had taken it, his breath catching as he had examined it closely. The coin had been exquisitely crafted, more a work of art than currency.
Strange symbols had run along its edge, and in the center had been an image - a grotesque creature with bulging eyes that had seemed to stare right at him.
"The locals bought everything they had," the villager had whispered. "Paid with coins like this. More gold than my sister's husband had ever seen."
"But the people... their eyes were wrong. Empty. And some of them..."
He had shuddered, unable to continue for a moment.
When he had spoken again, his voice had been barely audible. "Some of them weren't quite human anymore. Green skin, webbed fingers, eyes like dead fish."
"They'd been trading with monsters and didn't even know it."
Kumade had handed the coin back.
The villager had closed his fist around the coin, knuckles white. "My sister and her husband... they invited me to go with them."
"Said they'd found something wonderful, a chance for a new life. But I... I couldn't."
The air in the shrine had seemed to grow even heavier as the villager had continued. "The next day, they were gone. Just... vanished. No explanation, no trace. And I... I did nothing."
"I was too afraid to ask questions, too scared to draw attention to myself."
He had taken a shaky breath before continuing. "That's when I started noticing the changes. More people disappearing, others acting strangely."
"The mist... it feels alive now. Hungry. It's like it's watching us, waiting to swallow us whole."
Kumade had frowned. "And you stayed? Why not leave?"
The villager had shaken his head. "Where would I go? Kiri is... it's home. It's where I was born, where my parents are buried. Even now, with all this madness... it's still home."
Kumade had felt a pang in his chest at those words. He had understood that feeling all too well.
"Home isn't just a place," the villager had continued, his voice soft.
"It's memories, it's people. Even when those people change, even when the place becomes unrecognizable... there's still a part of you that belongs there."
He had looked directly at Kumade, his gaze intense. "I know I'm a coward. I should have done something when my sister vanished. I should have tried to find her, to get answers."
"But I was too afraid. And now... now it feels like it's too late."
"I know Kiri is sick," he had continued.
"And this sickness... it's changing everything. But how do you leave a sick friend? How do you turn your back on the place that made you who you are?"
Kumade had sat in silence, absorbing the villager's words.
He had understood all too well the pull of home, the invisible threads that tied a person to a place.
A dangerous thought had begun to form in his mind.
"It feels like Kiri's own Will of Fire," he had muttered, more to himself than to the villager.
----------
As the memory faded, Kumade found himself staring into the darkness beyond the shrine's entrance.
The mist swirled outside, and for a moment, he thought he saw shapes moving within it - twisted, inhuman forms that vanished when he blinked.
He had a mission to complete, information to gather. But now, more than ever, he felt like he was standing on the edge of something far bigger and more terrifying than he'd ever imagined.
Silently, he rose and gathered his gear.
As much as he sympathized with the villager, he couldn't let personal feelings interfere with his duty.
With one last look at the sleeping man, he slipped out of the shrine.
The morning air was thick with mist, perfect cover for what he needed to do. Forming a hand seal, he whispered, "Transformation Jutsu."
In a puff of smoke, his appearance changed. Now he looked like just another Kiri villager, unremarkable and easily overlooked.
It wasn't foolproof - a skilled ninja might see through the illusion - but it was better than nothing.
He made his way through the waking village, ears open for any useful information. He wandered into a small market area, where a few vendors were setting up their stalls.
As he browsed, pretending to be interested in their wares, a ragged voice called out to him.
"You there! Yes, you with the sandy hair. I see a great destiny surrounding you!"
Kumade turned to see an old man sitting cross-legged on a worn mat. His clothes were patched and faded, but his eyes were sharp and alert.
"I'm a fortune teller, good sir," the old man said. "For a small fee, I can reveal what fate has in store for you."
Kumade shook his head, trying to move on. "Sorry, not interested."
But the fortune teller was persistent. He scrambled to his feet, following Kumade. "Please, kind sir. I haven't eaten in days. Just a few coins for my service?"
Kumade sighed, reaching into his pocket. He didn't believe in fortune-telling, but he couldn't ignore someone in need.
He handed the old man a few coins.
"Here," he said. "Get yourself something to eat."
The fortune teller's eyes widened in surprise. He clutched Kumade's arm suddenly, his grip surprisingly strong.
"Wait," he said, his voice trembling. "I... I must tell you something."
Kumade tried to pull away, but the old man held on. "You must leave this place," the fortune teller whispered urgently.
"Now, while you still can. If you stay..." His voice broke, and to Kumade's shock, tears began to form in the old man's eyes.
"You're a kind soul. I don't want to see you come to harm."
"What are you talking about?" Kumade asked, unnerved by the man's intensity.
The fortune teller leaned in close. "I see darkness... and mist. And in that mist... oh, merciful gods."
He shuddered. "You will lose your head if you remain. Please, heed my warning!"
Kumade finally managed to pull his arm free. He forced a laugh, trying to shake off the chill that had run down his spine.
"I think I see why you're not making much money as a fortune teller," he said lightly. "Thanks for the entertainment, old man."
As Kumade walked away, the fortune teller called after him. "Flee while you can! Before it's too late!"
Kumade quickened his pace, the old man's words echoing in his mind. It was nonsense, of course.
Just the ramblings of a half-starved old fool. And yet...
Shaking off his unease, he refocused on his mission.
But as he looked around the bustling market, he realized that attempting to infiltrate the Mizukage's office in broad daylight would be foolish.
He needed to wait for nightfall.
With a sigh, he purchased some food from a nearby vendor and made his way back to the shrine, careful to avoid detection.
The mist seemed to cling to him, as if trying to slow his progress, but he ignored this strange feeling.
----------
Back at the shrine, Kumade found the villager awake and pacing nervously. The man's face lit up with relief when he saw his savior.
"You're back! I was worried..."
Kumade handed him some of the food. "Eat. We need to keep our strength up."
As they shared the simple meal, his eyes darted frequently to the shrine's entrance. The villager seemed to notice his restlessness.
"What will you do now?" he asked softly.
Kumade paused, his hand tightening briefly around his chopsticks. "I think it's time for me to leave Kiri. This place... it's not safe anymore."
"I have family in a small village near the border. I'll head there tonight."
The villager's gaze lingered on his face for a moment.
He nodded slowly. "I see. Yes, perhaps that's for the best. Kiri has changed so much..."
His fingers drummed lightly on his knee as he spoke again. "You know, there's a trading post about a day's journey from here."
"They're always looking for strong, capable people. It's not much, but it's honest work, away from... all this."
Kumade's eyebrows raised slightly. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
They lapsed into silence, the only sound the soft patter of mist against the shrine's roof.
As the day wore on, Kumade busied himself with packing his few belongings, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
When the last light faded from the sky and the mist thickened outside, Kumade rose, shouldering his small pack.
The villager stood as well, his hands clasping and unclasping at his sides.
"Be careful out there," he whispered. "The roads can be dangerous, especially at night."
Kumade nodded, adjusting the straps on his pack. "Thank you for everything. I hope... I hope things get better here."
The villager's lips curved into a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "So do I. Safe travels, friend."
As Kumade stepped out into the night, he felt the villager's gaze on his back. He didn't turn around, his steps steady as he disappeared into the mist.
Once the sound of the footsteps had faded, the villager moved to the shrine's entrance.
His weathered hand gripped the doorframe tightly. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper, carried away by the damp night air.
"May your blade be sharp enough to cut through Kiri's mist, shinobi."
He stood there for a long moment, staring out into the darkness, before slowly sliding the door shut.
----------
The streets were eerily quiet, the mist muffling what few sounds remained.
Shaking off his unease, Kumade refocused on his mission. He made his way towards the center of the village, where the important buildings stood.
As he approached the Mizukage's office, his unease grew. Something was off. The guard patrols were too sparse, the streets too empty.
For a village known for its brutal and paranoid ninja, Kiri seemed almost... vulnerable.
At the entrance to the Mizukage's building, he noticed two guards. But something was wrong.
Their postures were slack, their eyes unfocused. It was as if they were sleep-walking.
"Too easy," Kumade muttered to himself. Every instinct screamed that this was a trap, but he had no choice.
He had to complete his mission.
Taking advantage of their inattention, Kumade slipped past them, entering the building through an open window on the second floor.
The air inside was heavy and damp, carrying a faint, unpleasant odor. As Kumade made his way through the dark hallways, the smell grew stronger.
It reminded him of the villager's description of the Land of Waves – rotting fish.
In the Mizukage's office, he quickly rifled through the papers on the desk.
Most were mundane – trade reports, civilian complaints. But then he found something that made his blood run cold.
It was a letter, written in a shaky hand. The ink had an odd greenish tint in the moonlight.
Kumade read it quickly, his heart pounding:
"Lord Mizukage,
The experiments with the statue continue to yield fascinating results. The transformation process is becoming more stable, but we still struggle with control.
Subject 27 showed remarkable physical enhancements but became violent and attacked the researchers. We were forced to terminate it.
However, we've made a breakthrough. By refining the process, we believe we can create soldiers of unparalleled strength and resilience.
Imagine an army that feels no pain, that can regenerate from almost any injury!
There are still risks, of course. The transformed subjects seem to attack anyone who isn't like them.
But with further research, we're confident we can overcome this obstacle.
We await your decision on whether to proceed with larger-scale trials.
For the glory of Kiri,
Chief Researcher Yagami"
Kumade's hands shook as he set the letter down. This was worse than he'd imagined.
Kiri was experimenting on its own people, creating monsters they couldn't control. He had to get this information back to Konoha immediately.
But as he turned to leave, he heard a sound that froze him in place. A wet, slapping noise. Like something slimy dragging itself across the floor.
Slowly, he turned around. In the doorway stood a figure that might once have been human. But now...
Its skin was a sickly green, covered in scales. Its eyes were huge and bulging, like a fish's.
And its mouth... Kumade fought back the urge to vomit as he saw the rows of needle-sharp teeth.
"Intruder," the thing gurgled, its voice bubbling like it was underwater. "Must... eliminate."
Kumade didn't hesitate. He threw a smoke bomb and dashed for the window. Glass shattered as he leaped into the air.
But as he landed and started to run, Kumade realized his mistake. The mist was rising all around him, thicker than ever.
And from that mist came sounds – croaking, gurgling, the slap of webbed feet on stone.
The entire village seemed to be waking up. And it was coming for him.
He ran faster. He had to get out, had to warn Konoha. But with each step, the mist grew thicker.
The sounds grew closer.
As Kumade raced through the streets of Kiri, fighting for his life, the fortune teller's words echoed in his mind.
He should have listened. He should have run when he had the chance.
But it was too late now.
The hunt was on.