Deep in the night, a single candle flickered in the main hall of the guest house.
The squad sat huddled around a low table. Sato Yoshisuke sat cross-legged on the tatami, a crude map of the City Lord's mansion spread before him. His finger traced a line across the paper, stopping at the main courtyard.
"The situation is more complex than we anticipated," Yoshisuke muttered. "If there truly is a Jonin-level threat, a frontal assault is suicide."
Naoto had been unusually quiet since the events at the farm. His typical chatter had vanished, replaced by a brooding intensity. He looked around at his teammates before turning to the Captain.
"Captain, Takigawa-san... haven't you noticed? Since we entered the city, sothing has felt... wrong."
Naoto's intuition had always been sharp, but ever since he had bonded with the insect eggs, his sensory perception had reached a new level.
Unlike the others, Naoto's bond was natural—Shisui had allowed his eggs to co-exist without forcing a rapid "hatch," giving Naoto a unique, organic connection to his swarm.
"Those servants who brought us here—they weren't just tired. They were terrified," Naoto continued. "And the guards at the gate? They didn't look at us like protectors. They looked at us like prey."
Yoshisuke frowned, falling into a silent, contemplative state. He had noticed the oddities but hadn't pieced them together. If Naoto was right, this wasn't just a mission; it was a cage.
Just then, footsteps approached the door. A rotund servant, followed by an assistant, entered carrying several lacquered food boxes.
"Forgive the intrusion, noble Lords," the servant bowed low, his voice trembling slightly. "The City Lord has personally prepared a late-night feast to refresh you after your travels."
The boxes were opened, revealing steaming rice, grilled fish, miso soup, and several side dishes. It looked delicious.
"The Lord is most thoughtful," Yoshisuke said, his eyes lingering on the servant's face. The man fidgeted, avoided eye contact, and quickly excused himself.
As soon as the door slid shut, Harusa pulled a small pouch from her robe. She produced a silver needle specifically treated for toxin detection and dipped it into each dish.
When she reached the miso soup, the needle's tip turned a sickly, bruised blue-black.
"Poisoned," she whispered, her voice cold.
Yuki paled. "They're trying to kill us?"
"No," Harusa corrected, studying the hue. "This is a high-dose paralytic. It won't stop your heart, but it'll turn your muscles to stone while keeping your mind wide awake."
Yoshisuke narrowed his eyes. "So, the ambush is coming tonight."
"What do we do, Captain?" Yuki asked, reaching for his kunai.
Yoshisuke thought for a long mont. "We play along. If they want us poisoned, we'll show them exactly what they want to see."
He signaled the group to lean in, whispering a plan while Shisui sat in the corner, watching with a detached, amused expression, occasionally nodding in agreent but mostly just observing the pieces move.
At the stroke of midnight...
Three silhouettes vaulted over the courtyard wall, landing with the silent grace of predators.
Leading them was Black Scorpion, his bare chest crisscrossed with scars, half his face hidden behind a dark, chitinous mask.
Behind him followed Red Butterfly, twirling her twin daggers, and Little Bug, who looked on with a sadistic, eager grin.
Little Bug peered through the paper window, where the silhouette of five figures could be seen slumped over the table by candlelight. "Boss, they're out."
Black Scorpion didn't answer imdiately. He raised a hand for silence, closing his eyes to sense the chakra in the room.
He felt five signatures—weak, erratic, and stagnant. It was the perfect signature of respiratory depression caused by his toxin. Still, he had survived as a rogue by being paranoid.
"Go in," he signaled.
Little Bug kicked the door open. Inside, the five ninja were scattered across the floor. So had white foam at the corners of their mouths; their breathing was shallow and ragged.
"Haha! What a joke!" Little Bug laughed. "And these are supposed to be 'elite' village ninja? They can't even spot a basic kitchen trick."
"Quiet," Black Scorpion snapped, his eyes scanning the room. "Red Butterfly, confirm it."
The woman stepped forward, tossing a handful of fine, iridescent powder into the air. If any of them were faking, the irritant would cause an involuntary change in their breathing or a twitch of the eyelid.
Nothing.
"They're under," she confird.
Black Scorpion finally relaxed, though he remained near the door. "Where is the City Lord?"
"Waiting outside, Boss," Little Bug said.
The fat City Lord was brought in, looking like he was about to faint. "B-Black Scorpion, sir..."
"You did well," Black Scorpion grunted. "Now, I'm going to peel so jutsu out of these 'elites.' Your job is done. Get out."
The Lord scrambled to leave, but Black Scorpion stopped him. "Is the dungeon ready?"
"Y-yes! In the West Wing basent!"
"Good."
Black Scorpion finally walked over to Yoshisuke. He knelt down, reaching out a hand to check the Captain's pulse—a final, personal confirmation.
In that heartbeat—
Yoshisuke's eyes snapped open. A shuriken shot from his sleeve, aid directly at Black Scorpion's throat.
Too fast!
Black Scorpion's pupils shrank. He threw himself backward, the steel whistling past his chin and leaving a thin red line of blood. Simultaneously, he flicked a shuriken of his own, clashing with Yoshisuke's second strike in a shower of sparks.
"NOW!" Yoshisuke roared.
The floor exploded into movent.
Harusa's hands flashed through seals: "Water Style: Thin Mist Jutsu!" The room instantly filled with a heavy vapor, obscuring vision.
Yuki lunged at Little Bug, his kunai catching the boy's arm and drawing a spray of red.
Naoto pounced on Red Butterfly. She reacted with terrifying speed, her short blades clashing against his kunai with a rhythmic ting-ting-ting.
Black Scorpion stood in the center of the mist, his eyes burning with cold fury. "So... you put on quite a show."
"Your mistakes were too loud to ignore," Yoshisuke countered, his blade ready.
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