The borders of Smokebush Hollow were unguarded, no traps, no chakra barriers, no patrols. Just trees. Ancient, creaking, thick with mist and memory. The kind of woods that felt alive, not in the chakra-sense, but in that something's-watching sense. Most travelers turned back before they even crossed the boundary.
But not him.
He was a scout of the Kuzu Clan a minor clan aligned loosely with the Senju. Specialists in sensory tracking and toxin-based jutsu, the Kuzu were small, but respected for their tenacity and paranoia. They were trained to detect lies in body heat, sabotage enemy supplies, and survive in hostile territory alone for weeks.
His name was Ko. Barefoot, lean, with wiry limbs and a long scar across his mouth that forced him to half-smile even when solemn. His clan hadn't heard from a deserter in months, someone last tracked to this forest. His orders were clear: scout, verify, report.
But Ko had made a fatal mistake.
He breathed in.
As Ko stepped past the crooked stone totems at the forest's edge, the light dimmed unnaturally. The fog thickened around his ankles like cool breath. The deeper he went, the less he could hear, no birds, no wind, just... pulse. A rhythm that had no sound, only sensation.
He reached for his chakra sense, extending feelers through the trees.
Immediately he regretted it.
He felt eyes. But not human. Not malevolent either. Just aware.
And waiting.
The Rootless Watch
From the limbs above, a girl with painted cheeks and wild braids watched him with inverted eyes, whites where pupils should be. She was called Pebble, for she claimed she once swallowed one and heard the Stone God speak through her stomach for three days. She never blinked. Never spoke clearly. But she always saw intruders first.
She whispered a single word into a conch-shell horn:
"Guest…"
The sound didn't travel through air.
It traveled through the roots.
Ko reached a clearing and paused. At first, he thought it was empty.
Then the fog shifted.
Three figures stood still among the trees.
A hunched old man leaning on a carved bone staff, Chime, the war-deserter. His eyes were fogged, but his ears could hear your heartbeat lies.
The silent one, Dew, wrapped in ivy and twine, face tattooed with smoke-like swirls. No voice, but his hands moved with grace like scripture.
And Pebble, upside down, dangling from a vine, grinning.
They said nothing.
Ko hesitated, hand on kunai. "I don't want trouble."
No answer.
He stepped forward.
The ground hissed.
Smoke bled up from the moss.
And from behind a willow, as if stepping out of memory, came the man.
Zassō Appears
"Yo," said Zassō, dragging smoke from his long curved pipe, eyes half-lidded but sharp beneath the haze. "You smell like intent, little shadow."
Ko didn't respond. His training screamed at him. The smoke wasn't normal. It carried weight in the air meaning.
"I'm lookin' for a missing clanmate," Ko finally said. "He was seen near these woods."
"Lotta folks go missin'," Zassō said, voice smooth as moss on stone. "More get found. Usually... when they stop lookin'."
Ko's grip tightened. "You running a cult?"
"Nah," Zassō said, flicking ash onto the ground. "I'm growin' a garden."
The smoke thickened.
Ko blinked. Zassō was there-
Then not.
The trees shifted. The mist shimmered. Ko turned in place. His sensory chakra pulsed again.
No signature.
Then, a whisper.
"You ain't searchin' for him. You searchin' for who you were before you left him behind."
Ko froze.
The voice was his own.
Another whisper. Different tone. Zassō's voice now, drifting soft like fog over graves:
"What you gonna do when you find a mirror that talks back?"
Then, movement behind.
He spun, kunai drawn. Nothing.
Heartbeat racing.
The fog curled around him like fingers. He felt pressure in his lungs. Not pain- memory.
His brother, dying from one of Ko's traps. His father's cold eyes. The moment he left the Kuzu compound without permission, not to scout, but to escape.
"You don't know who you are without orders," said the voice.
He dropped to a knee.
And for a single moment- he wept.
The Fog Breaks
Then it lifted.
Ko stood alone.
Zassō sat back on the willow stump, puffing his pipe.
Kozu was breathing heavy, kunai still shaking in his hand.
"What… the hell was that?"
Zassō exhaled a cloud shaped like a serpent biting its tail.
"Vanishing Verse," he said. "First scroll of Cloud Style I made. Not meant to kill you. Just… show you what you been runnin' from."
Pebble giggled. Dew nodded. Chime tapped his staff once, solemn.
"You gonna leave now?" Zassō asked.
Kozu looked around.
At the shrine. The trees. The Rootless.
And finally… at Zassō.
He sheathed the kunai. Sat down in the moss.
"No," he said softly. "Not yet."
Rootless so far:
Hako – First follower. Young, cautious, loyal.
Pebble – Painted feral girl. Sees things in rocks. Speaks in riddles.
Chime – Old deserter. Listens to ghosts. Maintains shrine.
Dew – Mute caretaker. Tends herbs, speaks with hands, tattoos living smoke.
Ko – Scout of Kuzu Clan. Shaken by Vanishing Verse. Stays… for now.