A few days later, in the Land of Snow at the edge of the world.
The freezing wind cut like a knife across the infinite tundra. Three travelers struggled through knee-deep snow, each step draining their remaining stamina.
The middle-aged man leading the group stopped, looking back at the youth and the boy. Their faces were a bruised blue from the cold, but they gritted their teeth in silence.
"There's a cave up ahead. We'll rest there tonight."
His voice was shredded by the gale, but the other two nodded and pressed on. Inside the small cave, the man skillfully started a fire while the youth pulled out frozen, rock-hard rations to thaw over the flas.
The boy, huddled in a corner, stared at the flickering light. "Are we... really going to survive this?"
The man didn't answer. The youth glanced at the boy and said flatly, "The Lord said to live. So we live."
They had initially thought this infiltration mission would be simple. The Land of Snow wasn't known for powerful shinobi. They were wrong.
The high altitude, extre cold, and crushing atmospheric pressure had crippled their effectiveness. Worse, they were terrible actors; they looked nothing like the "rchants" they claid to be.
In the Land of Snow, the political system was tight-knit. The Yukigakure (Snow Village) and the Daimyo's court lived almost as one, bound by marriage and blood.
The Daimyo's younger brother was himself a formidable ninja. Despite the nation's isolation, they were fiercely xenophobic and united.
Lacking spy training from Takigakure, the trio had been quickly spotted. When the local authorities moved to detain them for questioning, they fought back.
To their shock, while the Snow Ninja lacked "basic" depth, they wore specialized Chakra Armor and utilized unique Ice Style (Hyoton) jutsu that thrived in the environnt.
The trio had been beaten back, losing their cargo and fleeing into the wilderness. Now, they were suffering from snow blindness and starvation.
"We can't keep going like this," the middle-aged man muttered. "We are supposed to be Jonin of Takigakure!"
Their status was sowhat artificial, bolstered by Shisui's experintal insects, but those very insects had fallen into a deep hibernation the mont they hit the sub-zero temperatures of the north.
"Chengche, use the Insect Cocoon Jutsu on ," the youth said suddenly. "Let the bugs evolve inside . I can't hold out much longer."
"But what about your foundation? That's a one-way trip."
"It doesn't matter. We have a mission." The youth shook his head. "I finally understand why the Lord taught us that secret technique before we left. He knew. We were just too ignorant to see it."
With no other choice, the older man began the hand signs. The youth's internal parasites were forcibly awakened, beginning a rapid, parasitic maturation.
"My chakra is returning," the youth gasped. "Open the insect gourds. We're building the base here."
"Here? In the middle of nowhere?"
"It's perfect. We've already failed as rchants. Our rations are gone. If we don't find food, we die. We build a hive. If we have to, we'll eat the insects to survive."
They unsealed the gourds. Thousands of insects sward out, only to freeze to death instantly. The Earth-Construction Insects died in droves; the permafrost contained no minerals they could process, and the ice was too hard to chew.
Just as despair set in, the Erosion Insects—the most violent and least nurous—underwent a rapid mutation. Within a day, a subspecies erged that could "feed" on the natural energy within the ice.
Hope flickered. A few days later, the boy accidentally perford a Water Style jutsu and realized the water froze instantly into specific shapes. He finally understood why Shisui had specifically chosen three Water Style users for this mission.
"Captain, the storm has stopped! Should we hunt for food?"
"Don't call Captain," the man corrected him. "I am much older than you. From now on, I am your father, and he is your brother."
He had realized their mistake. Running was what made them look like spies. If they were caught again, they would claim to be refugees. If they played their cards right, they might even be absorbed into the Snow Village.
"From today, we aren't Takigakure ninja. We are drifters who fled to the north to escape the war. Rember that. No matter what, never let go of that lie."
Takigakure: The Deep Palace
Naoto stood before Shisui, his brow furrowed. "You want to leave and take missions?"
"Yes." Shisui sat cross-legged on a stone dais, his tone level. "The village is stable. With Shibuki and the others here, things won't fall apart. You need to go out into the world."
"To do what?"
"To make a na for yourself." Shisui looked up. "You are the strongest in Takigakure, but that title only matters within these walls. Outside, nobody knows who 'Naoto' is."
Naoto fell silent. He knew Shisui was right. Takigakure was tiny—a re speck on the map. Its resources and population were capped. To truly grow, they needed influence, and influence required a legend.
"The era of the Third Great War is ending, but the era of the 'Individual' is beginning," Shisui continued. "Go. Beco a na that makes the Five Great Nations hesitate. That is the best protection you can give this village."
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