A squad of four Root operatives moved swiftly through the forest, keeping just off the main road to avoid detection. They leapt from branch to branch, shadows flickering through the trees as they raced toward Tonika Village. Their pace was relentless—they'd been moving since midnight, stopping only when absolutely necessary.
This team was led by Number 3.
The sun had climbed past its peak; it was well into the afternoon now. They'd covered significant ground overnight and were roughly twenty miles from their target.
Suddenly, Number 3 raised a hand. "Halt."
The team stopped instantly, freezing in place without a sound.
He pointed through a break in the trees. "There. Look closely."
The others shifted slightly, scanning in the direction he indicated. Through the dense foliage, they spotted a group—figures with distinct red hair gathered in a small clearing. From their position, they could make out women and children among them. No attempt to hide. No signs of urgency. Just a resting group.
Number 3 narrowed his eyes. "That's them. The Uzumaki Clan. This is their route. They must have stopped here to rest."
The silence thickened. They had found their quarry.
"…"
Number 3 raised a small monocular to his eye, scanning the clearing in silence. He watched the red-haired group carefully, noting their behavior, their formation, their apparent lack of defenses. After a few moments, he lowered the lens.
"They're resting," he said quietly. "No proper camp set up. It looks like a short stop, not a full halt. And... I don't see Shanks Uzumaki among them."
He turned to one of his teammates. "Tiger. Fall back one hundred meters. Summon the messenger eagle and send a report to the head captain immediately. Let him know we've found the Uzumaki clan—just seventy meters ahead."
Tiger gave a sharp nod and began to move.
Number 3 added, his voice low and firm, "Most of them won't sense the summoning technique or the eagle's departure. But Shanks... he might. So keep it clean, fast, and quiet. We can't risk blowing our position now."
The Root ninja codenamed Tiger didn't waste a second. At Number 3's command, he turned and began leaping swiftly through the trees, retreating at full speed. His movements were precise, silent, and efficient—trained for missions exactly like this.
After covering a distance of about 100 meters, he landed lightly on a thick branch and knelt. Without hesitation, he formed the hand seals and whispered, "Summoning Technique."
A soft burst of white smoke in the air, and a medium-sized eagle appeared before him—its eyes sharp, its posture disciplined, trained for stealth operations.
Tiger quickly scribbled the report, detailing the sighting of the Uzumaki Clan and their exact location. He sealed the note and slipped it into the small pouch secured to the eagle's back.
"Deliver this to the Head Captain. Immediate priority," he whispered.
The eagle gave a slight nod, then launched into the sky, wings slicing through the air as it vanished into the canopy, heading straight toward command.
Tiger exhaled once, eyes scanning the forest. No sign they'd been noticed—at least not yet.
----
Shanks lay resting in his carriage, eyes closed but far from unaware. Even in sleep, his Observation Haki remained active—an ever-present field of awareness stretching a hundred meters around him. It was a habit he had formed recently while they were on the run. It was better to be more cautious.
Then, suddenly, he felt it—malicious intent. Subtle, but sharp. A ripple in the air, like a whisper with a blade behind it.
His eyes snapped open.
Without moving, he expanded his Observation Haki to its full range. In an instant, the world around him became clear—every movement, every flicker of chakra within a thousand meters revealed itself.
He sensed four chakra signatures nearby, each moving with deliberate control. One stood out—stronger than the others, but still below the level of the Jōnin he had fought a week ago. The remaining three carried similar chakra levels, likely seasoned but not elite.
Shanks analyzed quickly. One Special Jōnin... or maybe four skilled Chūnin. Either way, these weren't random travelers. They were too close, too coordinated, and too quiet.
His expression hardened.
They were being watched.
There was no doubt now—the Uzumaki Clan was being tracked.
Shanks remained seated inside the carriage, his voice calm but firm as it carried just far enough to reach the Uzumaki Clan members outside—low enough not to alert the watchers in the woods.
"Everyone, keep doing what you're doing," he said evenly. "Don't look around. Just listen carefully."
There was a subtle shift in the air outside as the clan members instinctively tuned in.
"Start packing your things—slowly. No sudden moves, no signs of urgency. One by one, begin getting into the carriages. Make it look casual. Natural. Like we're just getting ready to leave after a break."
He paused for a beat, then added, "We're being watched. But don't panic. They're not strong enough to be a real threat. I can handle them. What I don't want... is for them to realize we know."
His voice dropped slightly.
"So stay calm. Act normal. And get inside the carriages. Now."
Outside, the clan members began to move—quietly, carefully, the way Shanks had taught them. The game of shadows had begun.
Shanks stepped out of the carriage.
The moment he appeared, his red hair catching the light through the trees, the Root operatives spotted him.
"There," Number 3 said, his voice low. "Uzumaki Shanks—confirmed visual. Judging by his expression and posture, he was asleep until just now. Must've been resting."
The others nodded silently, eyes locked on the target. They kept watching, observing the clan without making a move. Every breath, every gesture was noted.
Back at the clearing, the Uzumaki Clan moved just as Shanks had instructed—calm, composed, not a hint of alarm. No one looked around. No one broke formation.
Shanks watched them quietly, satisfied with their performance.
Then Emi stepped forward with a light smile. "Alright, everyone. Break time's over. Let's keep moving. We're close to our destination."
The others responded with quiet nods and easy chatter, as if nothing unusual had happened. The relaxed mood held steady. They began collecting the few belongings left outside and loaded them into the carriages with practiced coordination.
With everything packed, the clan members started boarding the carriages one by one, never once betraying the presence they now knew was watching them.
As the last of them climbed aboard, Shanks turned and walked toward the edge of the clearing—heading into the forest, but in the opposite direction of the Root operatives.
Silent. Intentional.
And with every step, the gap between hunter and hunted blurred just a little more.
----
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