Kiba usually assigned her and Iruka to lead scouting missions, knowing they could stay focused and make quick decisions under pressure. Momoka’s fear sometimes got the better of her, and Taiga tended to get distracted or act impulsively when faced with confrontation. Aimee hoped this wasn’t a situation where she’d have to rein him in to keep him safe.
While Taiga guarded her inside flank, she moved through the thick marsh grass. Her tunic, damp from the humid air, clung to her skin. She knew Taiga’s eyes would be darting to every shadow and every rustle of wind through the tall reeds as they approached the outskirts of Oba-chan’s home.
Normally, a village like this would be bustling, even at dawn. There would be fishermen hauling nets and mothers tending to their homes, but it was eerily quiet. No sounds of life. Just empty homes with doors slightly ajar.
Where is everyone? Aimee wondered.
“Where is everyone?” Taiga echoed her thoughts, his voice barely audible as he crouched low to her left.
“I’m not sure,” Aimee replied, her gut churning. Something was very wrong.
The village stood eerily quiet, its homes built from rough, worn timber, with sagging roofs. Cracked lanterns dangled from doorways, their flames long extinguished, leaving the streets bathed in an unsettling gloom. In the distance, she spotted the blackened remains of a burned-down warehouse, its charred frame rising up like a skeletal hand against the pale sky.
“There are the warehouses Oba-chan mentioned.” She pointed deeper into the village. The structures looked abandoned, but it was the best place to set up an opium operation that she could see. “Let’s head that way.”
Taiga nodded. His usual cocky grin was gone, replaced by a tight-lipped frown as they crept toward the burned-out warehouse. Behind it, two more large warehouses stood, their weathered walls looming ominously in the morning light.
This must be where they store their food for the winter. Her brow furrowed. Then, just as she was about to round a corner, Taiga grabbedher shirt and yanked her back, pulling her down behind a stack of barrels outside what looked like an abandoned shop. He pointed silently ahead with his free hand as Aimee eased into the shadows beside him, her heart quickening.
A group of villagers, their movements slow and mechanical, shuffled out of the nearest warehouse. They were of varying ages, some old and frail, others barely teenagers. Each carried large clay jars in both hands, moving as if under a heavy trance. Strangely, there were no guards in sight.
Taiga tensed beside her, his muscles coiling as if he were about to spring forward, but Aimee’s hand shot out, grabbing his arm and pulling him back into their hiding spot.
Wait, she mouthed and pointed from her eyes to the villagers, silently urging him not to move.Watch.
The villagers…they didn’t seem alive. Their eyes were white and glossy, their skin pale and mottled, hanging loosely over their bones. One man’s jaw hung slack, flies crawling over his face, yet he made no move to brush them away.
Are they dead?Her blood ran cold.
As the villagers drew closer, she tightened her grip on Taiga’s arm, not trusting him to stay still in the face of whatever this was. Her heart pounded as they shuffled past, but then she saw it. There was a faint, almost imperceptible rise and fall of their chests. They were probably alive, but only just.
Thank the stars. She did not need another world with zombies.
Aimee glanced sideways at Taiga, hands flexing in worry. There was more going on here than we thought, more than they’d been told.
The villagers continued to shamble through the winding streets, the clay jars clutched tightly in their arms. The homes they passed were small, sagging from time and neglect, walls worn and cracked. But asthey rounded a corner, a large house loomed ahead, different from the humble dwellings around it. The structure was bigger, with polished wooden beams and fresh finishes.
Funneling toward the front door, they moved in eerie unison past a man who stood at the entrance. He glanced around nervously, his fingers rubbing against the long sword tied to his hip.
Stay here, she signaled to Taiga, her fingers moving swiftly in the coded signals of their Haven.
Taiga shook his head.No, he mouthed, ready to argue.
Aimee frowned and pointed toward the man at the door, crinkling her nose, and made the symbol forShinobiwith her hands. The man didn’t carry himself like a ninja, his stance too loose, too anxious, but she could smell it on him, around him. Mana. Or at least something close to it, faint but unmistakable. If he wasn’t a ninja, then someone inside that house was.
Taiga clenched his fists and tried to push around her, but Aimee shoved him against the wall of the building they hid behind.
That’s an order, Tanshi, she signed, her eyes hard.
His jaw dropped, mouth opening and closing. She’d never taken such a firm hand with him before.
Please, she mouthed.
Fine. He exhaled dramatically, but his shoulders relaxed as he added,Be careful.
Aimee winked, then turned and sprinted up the side of the building, just like Kiba had done the day before on the cliff, quick, fluid movements, every step precise. Taiga’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open as she scaled the wall. Unlike the previous day’s training, though, she did it without her faux Mana. If they had someone with sensing skills, she knew they’d be on the lookout for shinobi techniques being used in the vicinity.
Moving swiftly across the rooftops, her feet barely made a sound as she leaped from one to the next, her body low. She darted through the shadows, every jump measured, every landing silent. Soon, she neared the far side of the large estate and dropped into a crouch, blending seamlessly with the darkness cast by the nearby trees. A large skylight window opened below, showing what had likely once been a grand dining area. She carefully lowered herself onto its edge, peering inside.
