From the southern ridge to the bamboo woods, the men fanned out in lines, calling Taro's name softly like a prayer they weren't sure would be answered.
"I don't like it," Hana murmured.
Shinji looked at her. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the fog blurred the trees together like smudged ink. "What don't you like?"
"All of it." She bit her lip. "That we haven't found a single thing. That no one saw anything. That Naoko's still kneeling by the fence like if she just waits long enough, he'll come walking back barefoot."
Shinji didn't know what to say. He didn't like it either.
Ren arrived just after midday, dirt on his elbows and dried grass clinging to his sleeves.
"Still nothing?" Hana asked.
He shook his head and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "They've combed every ridge, every trail, even the stream behind the shrine. My father is leading a few men up the west slope now. They're hoping maybe Taro got lost and wandered uphill."
"No child wanders uphill barefoot and bleeding," Hana said.
Ren flinched slightly at her tone.
"I didn't say I believe it," he replied. "I said that's what they're hoping."
Shinji watched both of them carefully. They weren't arguing, not really—but something between them had changed.
"Masato saw something," Ren added after a pause.
That got both their attention.
Shinji sat up straighter. "When?"
"This morning. Didn't say much in front of the others. But I followed him after we reached the grove near the hollow cedar. He was crouched by a set of high branches."
"What kind of branches?" Hana asked.
Ren hesitated. "Broken ones. Eight, maybe ten feet off the ground."
Shinji's mouth felt dry. "Too high for a child."
"Too high for a normal fall," Ren agreed. "Masato ran his hand over one of the breaks and just stared. I asked what he saw, and he finally muttered, 'something passed through here… without touching the ground.'"
A silence followed.
Hana stood and began pacing, her bare feet whispering against the old wooden floorboards. "What could do that? A bird? An eagle?"
"No feathers. No claw marks," Ren said. "Masato said it moved through the trees like smoke."
"Smoke doesn't break branches," Shinji muttered.
Ren looked at him.
"No," he said slowly. "But something heavy, floating, might."
The idea hung in the air like a spider suspended mid-fall.
Ren rubbed his arms. "I heard him ask Goro if anything like this happened during the war. Goro said no. Said even the worst shinobi couldn't erase a trail this clean."
"Then we're not looking for a person," Hana whispered.
They stood quietly together.
Then, quietly, Hana asked the question they were all thinking.
"Do you think it's… chakra?"
Ren shook his head. "Even ninja leave something behind. Crushed grass. Burnt leaves. This? It's like something just… appeared and disappeared again."
Shinji lowered his eyes to his hand. He'd expected a reaction from the warmth in his chest—a warning, a pulse, something. But the coal was still, quiet as stone.
"Whatever it is," Hana said, "it's not done."
"Because your father is not back yet," Hana said.
Ren looked up sharply. "He said he'd be home by sundown."
"Then he should be back by now," Hana replied, her voice quieter now.
Shinji shifted, his stomach turning cold. The mist hadn't lifted all day, and now it seemed thicker again, curling low across the paths. A strange tension was building in the air—like the village was holding its breath.
They all turned at once when the low sound of a distant bell echoed from the square.
"That's the signal," Hana murmured. "Someone's gathering everyone."
Ren was already moving.
The three of them broke into a run, sandals slapping against damp stone and packed earth. Villagers were emerging from their homes again, drawn by the same pull. Shinji saw old Daichi walking with his cane, two younger men at his sides. Mieko the potter's wife had her shawl pulled tight, eyes wide and searching.
By the time they reached the square, the fire had already been lit in the center brazier. A few hunters stood around it, faces drawn. Masato stepped into the light, soaked to the waist and covered in dirt. He looked like someone who had been running through the woods for hours—and had found nothing but ghosts.
Ren spotted him first.
He took one step forward. Then another.
"Where's my father?"
Masato's eyes flicked toward him.
Ren's voice rose. "Where's Goro?"
Masato hesitated.
That pause was enough.
Ren stepped fully into the ring of light, his voice shaking now. "Where is he?!"
Masato took a breath. "We found blood."
The square fell silent.
Masato continued, voice hoarse. "And his hammer. It was broken."
"No," Ren whispered. He took a step back. "No. You're wrong. He wouldn't—he doesn't lose. He wouldn't leave it behind."
Jiro moved to steady him, but Ren swatted his hand away.
"What do you mean broken?" he demanded. "How broken?"
Masato unwrapped the cloth in his hands.
The hammer fell in two pieces. The head had split off completely, the handle cracked clean through. Stained red.
Ren stared at it.
Shinji stepped forward instinctively, but he didn't know what to say. He wanted to place a hand on Ren's arm, wanted to tell him something comforting—but nothing felt real enough.
"Where's the body?" someone asked behind them.
Masato turned away from Ren now, addressing the gathered villagers. "We followed a blood trail up past the cedar ridge. Broken branches. Signs of a struggle. Then nothing. The trail just ended."
"Ended where?" an old man demanded.
"In the air," Masato said. "Like it… floated off."
More murmurs. Fear now. Not just concern.
Hana caught Shinji's eye. Her face was pale.
Someone tried to say it was a large bird. Someone else muttered about a shinobi gone mad in the hills. But no one sounded like they believed their own words.
Ren hadn't moved.
His breathing was shallow, and his fists were clenched.
Shinji stepped closer. "Ren…"
"He's not dead," Ren said.
No one answered.
"He's not." Ren's voice cracked. "He wouldn't leave me. He wouldn't just… disappear."
Masato looked at him again. "We'll find him. I promise."
"You don't promise things like that," Ren snapped. "Not when you're not sure."
He turned and stormed off through the crowd, brushing past villagers who shrank back silently.
Shinji looked at Hana.
"I'll go," she said quietly. "Let me."
She followed after Ren without another word.
Masato wrapped the hammer again, more gently this time. His eyes were distant, unfocused. "I saw something," he said to no one in particular.
The murmuring stopped.
"Six eyes," he said. "Low to the ground. Too fast to track. Pale. Like smoke. But heavy enough to break that hammer."
He didn't say the word "monster."
But no one had to.