I bounced from branch to branch, enjoying the brief solitude while my team was off playing ninja voyeurs. Not that I was complaining about the alone time—setting traps was practically therapeutic for me. Nothing quite like the zen of engineering someone else's very bad day.
'Our territory should be just past this thicket,' I thought, spotting the distinctive rock formation the map had pointed out. Sure enough, our bright red core flag stood proudly in a small clearing, fastened to the ground with those seals that prevented movement.
"Hello, my precious," I murmured, landing beside it with a soft thud. "Don't worry, Daddy's going to make sure nobody touches you."
The clearing was about thirty meters in diameter, ringed by trees. Perfect trap country. I cracked my knuckles and got to work.
My fingers worked the thin wire from my pouch as I threaded it between two trees at ankle height. The wire hummed quietly when I tested the tension—too tight and it would snap, too loose and it would sag visibly. I gathered fallen branches and arranged them into a natural-looking pile near the wire, notching each one for my counterweight system.
"Let's see... for a proper pendulum mechanism," I muttered, selecting a sturdy tree with a thick branch.
I bundled rocks into my spare shirt—about thirty pounds worth—and secured it overhead. One brush against the wire, and the release mechanism would trigger, sending the rock bundle swinging at chest height and activating a camouflaged net that would spring up from the leaves.
"Simple and elegant," I said with entirely too much self-satisfaction as I tested it.
For the eastern approach, I went with something special—a spring-loaded pincer trap.
I selected several flexible saplings and bent each one carefully toward the ground, feeling the resistance in the wood before securing them with thin wires. To each bent tree, I attached sections of light netting woven from vines and forest debris. When triggered, the nets would sweep inward simultaneously, creating a pincer effect impossible to dodge.
"And for the coup de grâce..." I connected all six trigger wires to a central pressure plate disguised as forest floor. The true genius was in the timer mechanism—a series of slipping knots that would create a delayed release, giving victims a false sense of security before the trees suddenly sprang back about three seconds later.
"They'll never see it coming," I grinned, sprinkling blue berries over the nets as a finishing touch.
With the major traps set, I turned to psychological warfare. I placed several conspicuous tripwires at eye level—thin wires catching just enough sunlight to be noticed.
Each "obvious" wire connected to harmless mechanisms that would make noise but cause no capture. Anyone spotting these decoys would instinctively duck under or jump over them, landing precisely where my actual pressure plates waited. I scattered a few obvious kunai-shaped shadows using carefully positioned leaves, creating illusory hazards that would funnel movement right into my spring-loaded pincers.
"First rule of trap-making," I whispered, "make them think they've outsmarted you."
I was just admiring my traps when movement caught my eye. I froze, senses alert, then casually turned toward a cluster of bushes to my right.
At the exact same moment, a head popped up from behind the bushes. Our eyes locked in mutual surprise.
A boy I vaguely recognized as kid from Team 4—Noboru something-or-other, one of the civilian-born students—stared at me with his mouth hanging open. I stared back. For three glorious seconds, neither of us moved or blinked.
"Well, this is awkward," I finally said.
"I was just..." he gestured vaguely, "...looking for... berries?"
"Behind a bush? While spying on my flag?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Special berries," he nodded vigorously. "Very... bushy berries."
I watched as he slowly began to sink back into the bushes like a particularly unconvincing prairie dog.
"I was never here," he whispered, now only a pair of eyes and a tuft of brown hair visible above the foliage.
"And yet, here you are," I countered, tilting my head.
He stopped mid-retreat. "I didn't see anything."
"Except me."
"Except you," he agreed.
"And my traps."
He winced. "Your... what traps? I don't see any traps."
I gestured vaguely around the clearing. "These aren't the traps you're looking for?"
"I should go report back," he said, rising fully from his hiding spot.
"About the traps you didn't see?"
"Exactly!" His eyes darted toward the trees behind him.
"You realize I can't let you do that," I sighed dramatically.
"I could run," he suggested hopefully.
"You could try," I agreed.
He must have decided fleeing from me was his best option because he suddenly bolted to the left. His escape might have been more successful if he hadn't immediately tripped over one of my perimeter wires. He face-planted with the grace of a drunken elephant, making a sound that was half yelp, half sneeze.
"Catch you? Seems the forest floor beat me to it," I remarked, strolling over to where he lay sprawled.
Noboru flipped onto his back. "I won't tell you anything about Team 4's plans!"
"I didn't ask," I pointed out reasonably.
He blinked, momentarily thrown off script. "Well... good!"
What followed was less a fight and more an improvised comedy routine. The poor kid had clearly practiced the Academy basics but had about as much practical combat experience as a particularly sheltered houseplant. He'd telegraph a punch from last Tuesday, I'd sidestep. He'd try a textbook sweep, I'd hop over it. All while maintaining a running commentary.
"Has anyone ever mentioned you move like you're underwater? But slower?" I asked as he missed me for the fifth time.
"Stay! Still!" he grunted, swinging wildly.
"That's generally not how fights work," I caught his wrist mid-punch and spun him around. "But points for enthusiasm."
After about two minutes of this, I decided to put the poor kid out of his misery with three well-aimed strikes—nothing painful, just enough to drop him like a sack of rice.
"That was..." he gasped from the ground, eyes wide with shock.
"The part where you lose? Yes, it was," I agreed pleasantly, already retrieving wire from my pouch.
His struggling was minimal as I efficiently trussed him up, his limbs folded into what resembled nothing so much as a human dumpling.
"There we go," I said, patting his shoulder. "Snug as a bug."
I dragged him to a hollow beneath a large tree root, carefully positioning him so he was hidden from casual view but wouldn't become a meal for the local wildlife.
"Consider this a learning experience," I told him cheerfully. "Next time, maybe don't pop up like a surprised gopher in the middle of enemy territory."
His muffled reply sounded anatomically impossible.
"I'd love to continue this conversation," I said, "but I have more traps to set and you have..." I gestured vaguely at his bound form, "...well, you have whatever's happening here. Enjoy the ambiance."
I returned to my work, placing the final touches on my trap network. I scattered a handful of shiny pebbles around the clearing, smiling as they caught the sunlight in brief, distracting flashes. The perfect misdirection to draw attention away from my actual traps.
"If only Kushina could see this," I mused, imagining her reaction to my handiwork. "She'd either be impressed or horrified. Possibly both."
I took a quick swig from my flask—purely medicinal, of course—savoring the burn as it traveled down my throat.
I was admiring my masterful network of traps when a thought hit me like a chakra-enhanced slap to the face.
"Wait a second..." I froze, turning toward the human dumpling I'd stuffed under the tree root. "I forgot the loot!"
Noboru's eyes widened with what I chose to interpret as enthusiastic consent.
"Can't believe I almost made such a rookie mistake," I muttered, strolling back to my captive. "What kind of self-respecting shinobi doesn't check for valuables?"
I crouched down beside him, patting his pockets with quick, familiar movements. "Now, let's see what goodies you've got."
His muffled protests increased in volume and creativity. I was fairly certain one of those suggestions involved my head and a place heads generally don't fit.
"Language," I tsked. "What would your mother say?"
My fingers closed around something in his left pocket. "Aha!" I pulled out... three slightly bent kunai with chipped edges. My excitement deflated faster than a punctured balloon.
"Seriously?" I held one up to the light, noticing the rust forming along one edge. "These look like they were handed down from your great-grandfather's war collection."
Noboru made a sound that might have been agreement or an anatomically impossible suggestion.
I continued my search, finding two onigiri that looked suspiciously leaky, a handful of shuriken that had clearly seen better decades, and a crumpled piece of paper that turned out to be a half-finished grocery list.
"Eggs, milk, kunai polish—at least your priorities are in order," I commented, tucking the list back into his pocket as a courtesy. "Though judging by these weapons, you might want to move 'kunai polish' to the top."
I sat back on my heels with a sigh of profound disappointment. "I've looted storage closets with better inventory. Is this what being a civilian-born student means? Budget weapons?"
Noboru somehow managed to look offended despite being trussed up like leftovers.
"No judgment," I assured him, pocketing the least decrepit kunai. "We all start somewhere. Though in your case, that somewhere appears to be the Academy's reject bin."
I was contemplating the cosmic injustice of his subpar equipment when I heard it—the obvious sound of footsteps trying very hard not to sound like footsteps. Four sets, moving in formation. Team 4 had arrived in full force minus their captured scout.
"Well, well," I murmured, patting Noboru's cheek. "Seems your friends got tired of waiting. How inconsiderate of them to interrupt our quality time."
His eyes widened with what I chose to interpret as agreement.
I straightened up, dusting off my hands. "Now, be a good hostage and don't make any—" I stopped mid-sentence, hit by sudden inspiration. "Actually, scratch that. I have a much better idea."
Noboru made a muffled sound of alarm as I dragged him out from under the root and propped him up against a tree trunk—conveniently positioned just at the edge of my most elaborate trap network.
"How do you feel about being bait?" I asked, adjusting his bindings so he was sitting upright.
The footsteps were getting closer—still trying to be stealthy but growing bolder. They clearly thought they had the element of surprise. How adorable.
I quickly slapped a handwritten note to Noboru's chest that read: "CONGRATS! YOU FOUND YOUR TEAMMATE!" with a crude smiley face underneath, then slipped behind a nearby tree with a clear view of my masterpiece.
"Mmmmfff!" Noboru's objection was admirably loud despite the gag.
"Shh, you're ruining the tension," I whispered, peering around the trunk just as four figures emerged cautiously from the treeline.
Team 4 had arrived in all their glory, led by Miyabi Senju. I found my gaze lingering on her a moment longer than the others. With those amber eyes and pale blonde hair, she had a hint of Tsunade about her—just enough of a resemblance to make me do a quick double-take. She was pretty in that classic Senju way, though obviously younger and more modest in all proportions than the legendary Sannin. Then there was Droopy Eyes looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, Squinty scanning the clearing with narrowed eyes, and Slouchy bringing up the rear with—you guessed it—a slouch. Textbook formation, textbook caution, textbook everything. I stifled a yawn.
Miyabi spotted Noboru first. "There he is!"
"Wait," Droopy Eyes hissed, grabbing her arm. "It's too obvious. It's probably a trap."
I smiled. At least one of them had a functioning brain cell.
"Of course it's a trap," Squinty scoffed. "But what choice do we have? We can't just leave him."
'My thoughts exactly,' I mused, watching them debate rescue strategies with all the tactical sophistication of a group deciding where to eat lunch.
"Hiroki and I will go left," Miyabi whispered. "Akira and Yua, circle right. We'll converge on Noboru from both sides."
I bit back a laugh. Was she reading from 'Basic Shinobi Rescue Operations for Dummies'?
They split into pairs, approaching from opposite directions—inadvertently lining up perfectly with my trap network. It was almost too easy. But to make sure...
I pulled out a shuriken and flicked it toward a branch above the clearing. The small thunk drew their attention upward for just a second—and that tiny shift in their paths was all I needed.
Miyabi and Slouchy now stepped directly toward my pressure plate trigger, while Droopy Eyes and Squinty were perfectly aligned with my tripwire. A master trap-setter doesn't force victims into traps; he guides them into thinking the trap-free path was their own idea.
I watched with professional pride as Miyabi's foot landed squarely on the disguised pressure plate. There was a beautiful three-second delay—just long enough for her to think she was safe—before the mechanism released. Six saplings that I'd bent and secured suddenly sprang back to their natural positions, carrying nets in a perfect pincer movement.
The nets swept inward like enthusiastic puppies greeting their owner, colliding exactly where Miyabi and Slouchy stood. Their surprised yelps were music to my ears as they found themselves suddenly bundled together in a cocoon of netting and foliage, sprinkled liberally with blue berries that burst on impact.
Simultaneously, Droopy Eyes's shin caught the tripwire on the opposite side of the clearing. There was a soft click as the notched stick dislodged from my release mechanism, and the counterweight I'd so carefully arranged went into action. The rock bundle swung down, triggering the secondary system that launched a camouflaged net upward.
Droopy Eyes, hearing the mechanism engage, threw himself into a desperate backward roll—his Academy reflexes finally proving useful for something. The net barely missed him, sailing over his head by centimeters as he tumbled awkwardly away.
Unfortunately for Squinty, she was mid-stride when the net deployed, catching her as she tried to leap over what she thought was the actual trap. The netting wrapped around her like an enthusiastic octopus greeting its favorite prey.
"Home run!" I announced, stepping out from behind my tree and slow-clapping with appreciation. "My traps are having a mostly productive morning."
"Shinji!" Droopy Eyes shouted, scrambling to his feet after his narrow escape. He whirled toward me, face flushed with anger and still breathing hard from his acrobatic save. "You sneaky bastard!"
"The preferred term is 'tactically innovative,'" I corrected, drawing a kunai and twirling it lazily around my finger. "Though I'll accept 'devilishly clever' as an alternative."
Droopy Eyes charged at me like a wild boar, arm cocked back for a haymaker.
I stepped aside and felt his sleeve rush past my ear. He staggered forward, caught himself, and whirled back around. His face darkened to crimson. "Stand still and fight!"
"That's generally not how fights work," I said, ducking under his next swing. His knuckles went over my head. I weaved right as he jabbed left, then bent backward as his roundhouse sliced through empty air. Each miss made his breathing more ragged. "But nice hustle."
Slouchy had cut halfway through the net with his kunai, the fibers snapping one by one. He wriggled through the gap, leaving Miyabi twisted up in the remaining mesh.
"Two against one now," he growled, circling to my left while Droopy Eyes took the right.
I pressed a hand to my chest in alarm. "Oh no, whatever shall I do?" I gasped, before dropping into a casual ready stance. "Come on then, boys. Show me what they're teaching in remedial taijutsu these days."
They rushed me together—Slouchy diving low for my legs, Droopy Eyes swinging wild for my face. I hopped the sweep and tilted just enough to feel Droopy's knuckles brush past my cheek.
"Timing's off," I commented, landing between them. "But the enthusiasm is commendable."
Slouchy recovered first, launching into a surprisingly decent combination of strikes—left jab, right cross, left hook. I blocked the jab with my forearm, slipped the cross, and caught the hook, using his momentum to spin him around.
"Not bad," I admitted, releasing his arm before he could counter. "You've been practicing."
"Every day," he grunted, dropping into a lower stance.
"It shows." I nodded appreciatively. "Your form is much less tragic than last semester."
Droopy Eyes tried to capitalize on our exchange by attacking from behind—a respectable strategy if he hadn't announced his approach with footsteps that sounded like a herd of drunken elephants.
Without looking, I dropped low and spun, sweeping his legs out from under him with a casual circular kick. He hit the ground with an indignant "Oof!"
"And that," I told him as he lay there gasping, "is why shinobi wear those soft-soled sandals. Sneaking 101."
Slouchy thought he had me distracted and launched himself through the air, foot aimed at my gut. I snatched his ankle mid-flight, leaving him hanging there like a broken kite. He twisted hard and swung his free leg at my head. I let go at just the right second. He spun like a top, arms flailing wild as he stumbled and slammed shoulder-first into a tree trunk.
Droopy Eyes had regained his feet and was now approaching more cautiously, hands raised in a basic Academy defensive posture. His eyes narrowed in concentration—clearly trying to apply actual tactics instead of just bull-rushing. Progress!
"See, this is much better," I encouraged, gesturing at his stance. "You're thinking now."
"Shut up," he growled, edging sideways.
Slouchy had recovered his balance and now the two of them coordinated their approach, trying to flank me. I allowed myself to be backed toward one of the few areas of the clearing I hadn't trapped, feigning concern at being cornered.
"Nowhere to run now," Droopy Eyes said, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.
"Who said I'm running?" I asked, then dropped fast to the ground, leg whipping out in a wide sweep.
Slouchy wasn't quick enough—my shin slammed his ankles and his feet flew out from under him. Droopy Eyes actually managed to jump my sweep—though he came down wobbling like he'd never landed on two feet before.
Slouchy toppled with a satisfying thud, and I sprang straight from my sweep at Droopy Eyes while he was still wobbling, grabbed his arm, and twisted—just enough to spin him around. In the same motion, I yanked on his weapons pouch strap, which came loose like a poorly tied shoelace.
"Hey!" he protested as I danced away with several feet of strap now in my hands.
Slouchy lunged at me from the side, but I sidestepped, hooking one finger through his loose belt loop. With a quick tug and twist, his belt came undone, and I added it to my growing collection of clothing accessories.
"What are you—" Slouchy started, grabbing at his now sagging pants.
"Improvising," I replied cheerfully, twirling the belt and strap like dual lassos. "The materials you carry are always your first weapons."
Both boys charged me at once. I ducked between them, looping Droopy Eyes's strap around Slouchy's ankle while simultaneously using Slouchy's belt to snag Droopy Eyes's wrist. One well-timed yank later, they were stumbling into each other, tangled in their own accessories.
"Basic Academy lesson," I announced, circling them like a helpful instructor. "Anything can be a tool in the right hands."
Their coordination devolved into chaos as they tried to separate, each movement tightening the improvised bindings. I took the opportunity to pluck Slouchy's scarf from around his neck and Droopy Eyes's arm wraps. He grunted, trying to free his wrist from the belt, but I haphazardly knotted the scarf to the arm wraps.
With some hand-waving that would have made any Academy taijutsu instructor facepalm so hard they'd need medical attention, I tangled my collection of clothing items around their flailing limbs. The more they struggled, the more entangled they became.
"Stop moving!" Slouchy hissed at Droopy Eyes. "You're making it worse!"
"Me? You're the one who—"
I interrupted their bickering by giving the final knot a tug, completing my masterpiece. Both boys were now effectively bound together, back-to-back, in what looked like a thrift store had thrown up on them.
...
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