The forests of the Land of Earth swallowed Kenji whole. He was now a solitary entity, moving with lethal silence and purpose. His worry for the old man and his granddaughter remained, but he pushed it aside. Focus was a shinobi's greatest weapon, and right now, his mind had to be as sharp as a razor's edge.
He didn't head straight for the rendezvous point. That was an amateur's move. Instead, he traveled in a wide arc, approaching "Sparrow" from the least expected direction. Every step was a calculation. He analyzed the wind's direction, listened for the unusual calls of birds, and looked for unnaturally broken branches. These were basic skills, things taught to academy students in their first year, but at Kenji's level, they became a sophisticated form of sensory perception.
His chakra was slowly recovering, but it was still too weak to use Shadow Clones effectively. This vulnerability forced him to be more cautious than ever. It reminded him of his earliest training days, when he was just a kid with no kekkei genkai, no natural talent, only stubborn persistence. It is in the harshest circumstances that a shinobi's true nature is revealed.
His mind was racing. The traitor. Who could it be? He mentally reviewed the list of Leaf Jonin teams operating in the area. Hatake Kakashi's team? Impossible. Though young, he was the son of the White Fang; his loyalty was beyond question. Might Guy's team? Even more impossible; Guy's enthusiasm was something that could not be faked. Could it be an Anbu member, operating independently like him? The possibility sent a shiver down his spine. The Anbu were the most trusted, entrusted with the village's darkest secrets. A traitor within the Anbu would be a catastrophe.
After nearly a full day of relentless travel, he reached the riverbank. The water flowed swiftly, creating a sound that masked all others. It was an ideal location for a secret meeting, and also a perfect spot for an ambush.
Rendezvous "Sparrow" was a small shrine dedicated to a river god, hidden behind a grove of weeping willows. It was old and covered in moss, seemingly long forgotten.
Kenji did not approach. He lay still in a dense thicket on high ground, observing the shrine for a full hour. There was no movement. No sound other than the river and the wind. But the silence itself made him uneasy.
Only when he was certain no one was watching did he slowly move in. The scent of rust and fresh blood hit his nose. It was a very faint smell, almost washed away by the river, but it couldn't escape his senses.
He stepped into the shrine's courtyard. The sight before him made him clench his fists.
A battle had taken place here. The ground was torn up by ninjutsu. Several Leaf-style kunai were embedded deep in the willow trunks. The shell of a used smoke bomb lay in a corner. And on the stone steps leading into the shrine, there was a dried streak of blood.
Kenji followed the blood trail. It led him around to the back of the shrine, to the base of an ancient tree.
And there, leaning against the trunk, was a figure in the uniform of a Hidden Leaf Jonin. His cat-style Anbu mask was shattered, revealing a familiar face: Morita Ryo. A shinobi from the generation just before Kenji's, famous for his Lightning Style and incredible speed.
Ryo was dead. A fatal wound to his chest. His eyes were still wide open, staring at nothing.
Kenji knelt, his heart heavy. He had known Ryo, though not well. They had been on a few missions together. Ryo was a loyal and trustworthy shinobi. It was Ryo who had written the warning. He had fought to his last breath.
Kenji carefully inspected the body. He had fought at least two people. There were signs of Earth Style from the Hidden Stone, but there was also a clean slice on Ryo's weapon pouch, a cut made from behind. It wasn't meant to kill, but to disable. It was made by someone Ryo hadn't been defending against.
The traitor.
In Ryo's clenched right hand, Kenji saw he was holding something. He gently pried open his fallen comrade's fingers. It wasn't a weapon. It was a small feather, jet-black. A crow's feather.
A clan symbol? A code?
Just as Kenji's mind focused on the feather, a lethal sense of danger washed over him. His instincts screamed. Without thinking, he immediately rolled to the side.
TWACK!
A jet-black kunai flew silently past where his head had just been, embedding itself deep in the ancient tree. The only sound was the cold thud of metal sinking into wood.
Kenji sprang to his feet, a kunai already in his hand. He looked toward the direction the attack came from, a dense thicket about thirty meters away.
He saw no one. But he knew he was no longer alone.
The one who killed Ryo. The traitor. He was here. And he knew Kenji had found the warning.
The hunt was over. It was now time for the prey to face the hunter.