In the depths of the burning house, Raidou’s chakra howled like a storm. Katsuko ducked low to avoid the smoke and called up five clones. They went racing down the hallways in search of survivors while Katsuko kicked in a screen door. She tapped her throat-mic. “Taichou, can you hear me?”

Static crackled and hissed on Raidou’s end of the comm. Katsuko bit down on the fear that rose like bile in her throat and doubled her speed.

She took the next corner at a sprint, eyes streaming from the smoke, and almost tripped when she caught the faint glimmer of foreign chakra. It moved at a fast clip, away from the house, and veered abruptly to make a beeline in the direction of the docks. Raidou’s chakra still flared somewhere in the house—or at least, she thought it did.

Had the Kiri genjutsu specialist lured her in with another illusion?

Katsuko reached out with her chakra and gasped in relief when Raidou’s ANBU tattoo shone like a homing beacon in response to her own.

Another part of the ceiling caved in with a shower of white-hot sparks. She was out of time.

Five quick seals and a directed twist of chakra sent wind blasting through the closest wall. It punched through wood and plaster like a spear, barreling through the next wall—and the next. Katsuko ducked through her impromptu shortcut and shouldered a burning bookcase aside. A flood of memories from a dispelled clone hit her over the head like a brick: a quick glimpse of two blistered bodies sprawled on the floor, barely recognizable as the two Kiri ninja she’d boiled alive in the hallway outside Masaaki’s room. At least they hadn’t been a genjutsu.

Another burst of memories: one of her bunshin picking the half-unconscious nanny from the floor of the burning nursery; the sharp burst of night air as the rest of Katsuko’s clones piled all the household servants they could find in an unconscious, crumpled heap outside the front gate, popping of existence once their purpose was complete.

Well, if Raidou and Katsuko died in the flames of their target’s burning house, at least they wouldn’t bring any innocent bystanders with them to the afterlife.

Katsuko darted through the wreckage, coughing hard enough to make her chest ache, and narrowed her focus down to the cacophony of her captain’s chakra. It felt wrong, sharp and disjointed where Raidou was usually smooth and contained, but it meant he was still alive.

Her vision started to dim. She blasted aside a blockade of burning debris and focused on putting one foot in front of the other; she was nearly on top of Raidou’s chakra signature now, all she needed to do was hang on—

Katsuko rounded the corner and stopped short.