Since the last torture session, Rope Tree had become a little delirious. He kept muttering about Konoha's "Top Ten Tortures" and other bizarre things.
It was clear the experience had left a deep mark on him.
Three days later, Yuluo found the three of them again.
"Come with me. Your next task is ready."
She said this flatly and then walked ahead without looking back.
"According to the intel that the Iwa-nin revealed last time, we tracked down the location of the Suna-nin unit that ambushed us. But by the time we arrived, they had already evacuated," Yuluo explained as she led them down a narrow forest trail.
"In that case, shouldn't the trail have gone cold?" Uchiha Tatsumi asked, confused.
Yuluo sneered. "You underestimate us. Even if the enemy moves, they'll always leave some trace behind. Our captain is highly skilled in tracking."
Uchiha Tatsumi gave a slight nod. He had come to understand over the past few days that this squad had been pursuing Iwa-nin with dogged persistence.
Four comrades had died in a single ambush — including Yuluo's own brother. That kind of hatred wasn't going to fade just because the enemy ran.
As Tatsumi had gathered from conversation and observation, skirmishes between Konoha and Iwa-nin had grown frequent ever since the two villages clashed in the Land of Rain.
Tatsumi hadn't experienced such deep-rooted hatred himself, but he could understand it.
"Did you catch up to them?" he asked.
"We were close. We only managed to capture one of them — a rear scout left behind to observe," Yuluo replied, her tone grim.
"That's why we need your Sharingan. We need to extract information quickly before it becomes irrelevant," she added, glancing over at Tatsumi.
Tatsumi nodded. The Sharingan was indeed much more efficient than conventional torture.
Descending once again into the underground holding cells via cold, spiraling stone steps, they were met with the now-familiar scent of blood and damp stone.
The Iwa-nin from earlier had vanished — either executed or moved. Their information had likely been extracted.
Now, a new prisoner sat restrained on a wooden frame. His Iwa headband glinted in the dim torchlight. He was tall, pale, and his hair was graying slightly — clearly older than the previous prisoners.
Yet, there was no fear in his eyes. In fact, he almost seemed... satisfied. A disturbing look of triumph lingered on his face.
Something felt wrong.
Tatsumi activated his Sharingan, preparing to cast a genjutsu and extract intel.
And then—
"Wait...!" Tatsumi's eyes widened. "Get back!"
Mikoto and Rope Tree instinctively leapt back, reacting instantly to his warning.
Yuluo, caught off guard, hadn't moved yet. Tatsumi grabbed her arm and yanked her away.
At the same time, Tatsumi's other hand had already drawn several shuriken and flung them toward the Iwa-nin.
The enemy shinobi laughed — a grim, hollow sound. The shuriken embedded themselves in his stomach and neck, but he never stopped grinning.
In the final moments before death claimed him, the Iwa-nin tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling.
This room... It reeked of Iwa blood.
His comrades, his friends, even his own son — they had all died here. Tortured. Humiliated.
Konoha was hunting them down. But wasn't Iwa simply trying to protect its own?
How could such hatred be resolved?
He didn't blame Konoha anymore.
He blamed the world.
In his final thoughts, his hatred turned into resolve.
Getting caught had never been a mistake. It had been the plan all along.
He was the bait.
A cruel smile stretched across his face.
"Konoha shinobi... this is my gift to you!"
My gift is an explosion.
My gift is death.
My gift is hell.
A faint light began to glow from his abdomen.
BOOM!
The prison chamber erupted in a thunderous explosion, the blast echoing through the night sky.
—
Far to the east, in a small hidden village, a group of Iwa-nin waited tensely in the shadows.
Judging by their headbands, these were the same Iwa-nin Yuluo's team had been pursuing.
They were gathered around a young man — clearly their captain.
He looked about 14 or 15, with a square jaw, spiky brown hair, and rare green eyes. He sat in silence, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
Iwa wasn't known for bloodline limits like Konoha's Uchiha or Kirigakure's Hozuki clans. But this boy had been tested early and confirmed to possess a kekkei genkai.
A rare genius of Iwagakure.
So much so that the Third Tsuchikage, Onoki, had once considered taking him on as an apprentice.
But his reckless nature and repeated mishaps — including multiple explosive accidents — had made him a liability.
Eventually, he was sent off to the frontlines in the Land of Rain to "temper" him through real combat.
Originally, he hadn't even been ordered to fight Konoha.
But the boy had always been curious. He wanted to see for himself whether Konoha really was the strongest Hidden Village.
That childish curiosity had led to a full-blown massacre.
Now the hatred had only deepened.
"Captain, Yamamoto was one of us. You really let him volunteer as bait?" a subordinate asked angrily.
"Are you questioning my command?" the young captain asked coldly.
"Yamamoto offered himself. His son was tortured to death in that chamber. He wanted revenge — nothing more."
The subordinate fell silent.
At that moment, a distant flash lit up the sky.
The captain stood abruptly.
"It worked. Hahaha! The Konoha shinobi are dead!"
His subordinates quickly rose and followed.
Tonight, the hunt was on.