The caravan moved like a slow, Canvas scaled serpent through the canyon. Narrow cliffs rose on either side, their rocky faces broken by stubborn trees that clung to life in the cracks. The path wound through the forested stone like a scar carved by an ancient blade. Wagons creaked under the weight of clan belongings—tools, ingots, shrine relics, and carefully wrapped weapons that carried the spirit of generations.

  At the center of the procession, a wagon carried the elders and the youngest of the clan. Inside, Elder Yuki sat with her back straight against the wood of the wagon, remaining still, despite the swaying of the wheels. In her arms rested a bundle of dark cloth and fur.

  Within the bundle, tiny hands waved at the air as if already reaching for something to grasp. Fuyuka cooed softly. Beside the wagon’s seat, Elder Jinzo guided the reins. His hunched shoulders seemed carved from the same stone as the canyon walls. The one-year-old Daichi was tied securely to his back, the boy’s eyes wide as he watched the passing cliffs giggling periodically at the rare snow flake that drifted from the above trees.

  “Quiet road,” Jinzo muttered, the ancient shinobi’s sense on edge. “Too quiet.”

  Yuki didn’t look up, simply replying with allusion to their Clan’s sayings. “The mountains listen when we pass. They remember who we are.”

  Behind the wagon, Arata and Kurogane walked side by side. The rest of the clan stretched out in a line behind them, shinobi interspersed between civilians. Kurogane adjusted the strap of her scale coat. The metallic plates shifted faintly, whispering against one another as the movement disturbed the Chakra Kurogane had sealed within each plate.

  “You should be in the wagon,” Arata said, lifting a single hand up to tuck a lock of hair out of Kurogane’s face.

  “I’ve spent enough time in wagons for a lifetime,” she replied, gently nudging his hand away from the side of her face. “Besides, someone might get the wrong idea if they think I can’t still swing a blade.”

  Arata grinned wider. “You did give birth a week ago.”

  She shot him with a sideways glare, irritable at her husband’s consistent poking about her refusal to rest. “And yet here I am.”

  He chuckled. “And yet here you are.”

  The canyon curved ahead, narrowing. As the air grew heavier. Arata’s smile faded just a fraction. “…We’re being watched.”

  Kurogane’s eyes sharpened instantly. Not looking in the direction that they had felt “I felt it too.”

  A whistle cut through the air.

  Then came the rain of steel.

  Kunai and shuriken fell from the cliffs like a sudden storm. Clan shinobi reacted instantly, deflecting, dodging, and pulling civilians into cover. Explosions of dust bloomed along the path as rogue ninja dropped from the canyon walls.

  Stone-colored flak jackets.

  Faded and scratched out headbands. Iwagakure but not the kind that followed orders.

  Rogue-nin. Everyone of them.

  One of them grinned, showing broken teeth, black eyes and a bald head. “Look at all these wagons. Worth a fortune.”

  Another sneered after licking his lips. “And the kids? Even more.”

  “Take the brats. Kill the Shinobi guards.” Cackled the Bald one. “Later, have some fun with the women, before we sell them and the kids.”

  Arata’s smile returned, thin and sharp. He seemed almost manic as he took out a handful, his Kunai held between each finger. “Well,” he said softly, “this doesn’t look too~ disappointing.”

  Kurogane stepped forward, drawing her katana in a smooth, silent motion stroking the length of the back of the blade with her thumb. Filling it with Metal releases Chakra causing it to hum as the field of chakra oscillates. Her coat began to hum faintly in resonance with her weapon. “Protect the caravan.”

  Arata rolled his shoulders. “Always love. Always”

  One of them advanced as one stood their ground.

  Steel flashed.

  The first rogue charged Kurogane with a heavy hammer. She stepped aside avoiding the telegraphed swing. With a single horizontal stroke her faintly humming blade slipped through leather and cloth then through Skin and meat with a crescendo from the blade split bone without effort. From the nearby rogue-nin’s perspective it looks like the blade made contact with his elbows then his rib cage and appeared past exiting his back without damaging him. He dropped without a sound in four pieces arms, upper torso, the rest of him.

  Arata met two who moved past Kurogane heading for the wagons. His kunai moved like a flicker of light. Each gained a new protrusion of steel from their sternums. Standing in the center of the pathway Arata extended two fingers upwards half of a hand seal.

  The pair of men gripped the kunai in their sternums on the ground slowly trying to drag themselves off to the side towards the canyon walls. Only one of the pair of ninja’s saw the strange strolls wrapped around the handle of the kunai in his chest. The pain robbed him of his question, preferring to continue to try and remove himself from the battle. The rest of the rogue-nin took two steps before Arata’s happy voice caused them to pause.

  “Careful,” Arata said cheerfully. “I’m trying to keep this entertaining.”

  Twisted his wrist and the scrolls on the two Kunai activated. Suddenly gouts of wind and fire chakra exploded from the two kunai shoving them the rest of the way into the rogue-nin’s chest stopping their hearts.

  “He He, Learned that on making fireworks… Now you’ve come for my daughter. Let me see if I’ll be a fun dad or if I’m more practiced in being a disciplinarian.” Arata said his eye turned up into a smile that mirrored the scarred half of his face. Not friendly, not merciful.

  The remaining enemies poured into the canyon. Ignoring the caravan as it slowly pressed forward, urged on by the elders and shinobi. Wheels groaned over stone as the column continued deeper into the narrow pass.

  Behind them, Arata and Kurogane held their position as their family escaped. The tallest man amongst these rogue shinobi stepped forward. His presence silenced the others causing those around Kurogane to step back.

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  Broad shoulders. Thick arms. A scar cut across where his nose should be. His eyes were hard chips of black flint. An old Iwa head band sat on his head with twin horns poking from it. It hadn’t been crossed out like the other rogues. He drew an ornate Katana.

  “So,” he said, voice low, “the metal witch still lives. Good, I’ll be making you a corpse today.”

  Kurogane narrowed her eyes. “…You.”

  “I swore I’d kill you,” he continued. “Your clansmen humiliated my family and me. Cost me my men. You defeated me and left me alive. And then you all vanished into the forest like cowards.”

  Kurogane said nothing, simply taking a stance to perform a quick upwards strike.

  He charged, the canyon beneath his feet collapsed inwards towards Kurogane. Causing her to move to avoid loose footing. Then he was on her, their blades collided with a ringing of steel.

  The impact sent the dust slowly spiralling in the air away from them. The captain pressed forward with brute strength, forcing her back step by step. Like the shift of mountains and continents he pushed and pushed her.

  “You were faster before,” he growled. “Stronger. What happened to you?”

  He twisted his blade and struck her guard aside. The impact knocked her several meters back. She landed, slid across the stone wall of the canyon, and rose slowly.

  Her scale coat began to wriggle, the plates shifting like a shifting sheet of steel insects coated her. The steel ornaments in her hair lifted into the air as she cycled her chakra from her core, trembling with magnetic energy. She gripped her katana with both hands. It joined her coat’s soft clattering with a humming of its own.

  “Well,” Letting out a laugh as she said, “I had a baby a week ago. So you might say I’m feeling under the weather, you rock-suckling mongrel.”

  The captain’s face twisted with fury at the women’s words. His great plan to destroy Kurogane’s clan is simply a thing to laugh at by Kurogane. “You mock me?!”

  He roared and charged. Their blades met again with renewed tempo.

  Behind them, further towards the exit to the canyon, Arata fought the remaining rogues as if he was simply in a dance at a festival.

  Arata danced between attacks, his Kunai’s flickering like a playful flame. Where they struck a small red pompom of red silk distracted from the seal scroll wrapped around the handle.

  “Come now,” he said, stepping aside from a heavy swing. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

  One rogue spat blood after Arata had delivered a back hand. “Shut up!”

  Another came in charging at the smiling red headed shinobi. Arata ducked, spun, and carved a shallow line across the man’s chest.

  “Careful,” he said as the steel chisels hidden within his boots carved yet another gouge in the stone surface. “You’ll ruin my mood.”

  They pressed in around him but they didn’t notice the small flickers of chakra tracing along the ground and walls. Thin lines etched into the stone as Arata moved. ‘The Laughing Seal.’ Arata thought to himself as he took a small moment to glance at the walls and floor of the canyon. He couldn’t help a grin spread across his face.

  He flickered backward with a short Shunshin, appearing several meters away. “Wait a moment,” he said politely.

  The rogues hesitated at the paper bombs held in his hand.

  Arata straightened his coat.

  “I’ll offer this once,” he said, his face dropping the smile on the undamaged side of his face. “Drop your weapons. Walk away. And I’ll pretend this never happened.”

  They stared at him. Then one of them laughed nearly out of breath but finding confidence in their numbers and that the man hadn’t killed any of them since the first two had fallen. “Not a chance. We’ll kill you, then your women, have a little fun with those beauties you let escape, kill the men of the clan, and sell the kids and make a fat paycheck while doing it.”

  Arata’s smile deepened as it returned the scar covering half of his face causing it to become almost inhuman with the humor it contained.

  “Good,” he said softly. “I would hate to do this to you if you all weren’t horrible people.” He slammed his palm against the ground.

  For a single heartbeat—

  Silence.

  Then the canyon exploded.

  Stone erupted in a thunderous chain of detonations. Fire and dust tore through the rogue-nin, shattering the walls and floor around them. The blast swallowed their screams. When the smoke settled, the canyon floor was buried beneath rubble.

  Arata dusted his hands off. “Messy, but kinda funny. Didn’t notice a damn thing till-” he muttered ending in a sigh.

  He vanished in a blur of Shunshin, reappearing atop the cliff.

  From there, He looked to the Caravan he saw what he wanted, the five remaining genin of the clan holding the rear perimeter, two to the sides of it and three towards the rear. They seemed to be continuing onwards as if the pair might die. He turned to the other side of the rubble pile and watched the dust cloud around Kurogane’s battle.

  It slowly cleared.

  Their blades clashed again and again, sparks flashing in the dim canyon light. They advanced, retreated, circled, and struck. Arata leaned against a rock, smiling.

  “Ah,” he murmured, “such a lucky man to fight my beautiful wife.”

  He folded his arms. “A person’s death should be either beautiful or funny.”

  Below, the captain suddenly blurred. Substitution. A log took his place as his real body appeared several meters away. He used Shunshin and vanished into the forest beyond the canyon.

  Kurogane stood still for a moment, blade lowered to a low guard.

  Arata dropped down beside her.

  He gave her a warm, loving smile.

  She smirked back.

  “I’m off my peak this week,” she muttered. “I feel like I’ve gotten rusty.”

  Arata laughed, slipping one of her arms over his shoulders.

  “No, my love. You’re simply dulled by a little too much fun. You just had a beautiful baby, fought off those dastardly rogues the same day, and now again these varlets during our little hike through Fire Country.”

  She snorted before taking a deep breath.

  He continued in an exaggerated, lecherous tone.

  “Someone should take the time to get you back in shape. Once we reach Konoha, you and I should have a nice long soak in a hot spring. Somewhere private. Just us two.”

  Kurogane laughed. “We’d have to make sure Elder Yuki is willing to watch little Fuyuka. You pervert.”

  “Only for you, my heart. Only for you. I’ll bribe the good shrine priestess to watch over the little raisin.” Arata grinned.

  Arata supporting Kurogane lifted her and performed Shunshin to teleport them through the canyon toward the caravan.

  They caught up as the wagons slowed to let them approach without further effort. Kurogane climbed back into the elder’s wagon with a tired exhale. Elder Jinzo drove as steadily as before. Daichi still clung to his back, eyes wide an expression of amazement at the world as Stone gave way to forest.

  Elder Yuki held Fuyuka, who was cooing happily trying to grip at the old woman's white hair, unaware of the battle that had just taken place.

  Jinzo glanced back. “All Dead?”

  Kurogane shook her and said, “The leader got away, a familiar enemy from the war.”

  He reached into his robes and retrieved his small bag of candy. He held it up in offering. “For your trouble?”

  “No, Elder Jinzo, I'm not a child.” Kurogane said with a restrained chuckle. The Elder sniffed as if offended.

  “Stubborn as ever. I was around when you were born kicking and screaming at the world like it owed you ten ryo. Now poor Jinzo can’t even give out candy.” He clicked his tongue, urging the Oxen forward.

  “It’s four more days to Konoha,” he said.

  The caravan rolled onward, deeper into the forests of the Land of Fire. Behind them, the canyon slowly settled into silence.