"Stop moving!" Slouchy hissed at Droopy Eyes. "You're making it worse!"
"Me? You're the one who—"
I cut off their bickering with a final tug that yanked the knot tight. Both boys jerked like caught fish, now bound back-to-back in what looked like my laundry's greatest hits collection.
"This is humiliating," Droopy Eyes groaned, twisting uselessly against his bonds.
"Think of it as a team-building exercise," I said, making another slow circle around them. "You wanted to work together to defeat me, and now look—you're inseparable."
I scanned the battlefield—my personal disaster zone. Miyabi thrashed in the net like a landed trout, her usually perfect blonde hair now a mess dotted with blue berry stains. Even caught in my trap, though, you couldn't miss those Senju features. Give her a few years, and the village would have another knockout on their hands. Priorities, priorities.
Squinty hung in my second net trap, finally gave up fighting it and just watched with the look of someone reconsidering their life choices. Noboru stayed put where I'd planted him, probably thinking the same thing. And here were Droopy Eyes and Slouchy, trussed up tighter than anyone at a festival dumpling stand.
"Welp, this has been fun," I said cheerfully, brushing invisible dust from my clothes. "But I've got flags to collect."
"You're just going to leave us like this?" Miyabi called from her net, having finally torn a small hole in the mesh.
I paused. My eyes drifted to her—couldn't help it, really. Like a cat with a new toy, I strolled over and started working the knots.
"Actually, I've got a proposition for you, Miyabi-chan," I said, carefully untangling her from the mess of netting and berry stains.
She eyed me like I might bite as she emerged, berry-stained and leaf-covered, unconsciously brushing debris from her chest. Her cheeks went pink when she caught my glance.
"What kind of... proposition?" she asked, her tone suggesting she had some very specific ideas about what I meant.
I grinned innocently. "Mind out of the gutter, Miyabi-chan. This is strictly business."
The blonde Senju blinked, looking both relieved and kind of insulted. "I wasn't thinking—"
"Course not," I agreed smoothly. "Though I'm flattered by whatever crossed your mind. I'm talking about the kind where you do me a favor, and in return, I don't make your teammates wish they'd never been born."
"I'm not—" she started, then caught herself, cheeks going redder. "What exactly do you want?"
"Something simple," I replied, enjoying watching her squirm. "Though not what you're thinking."
She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "I wasn't thinking anything inappropriate!"
From my pouch, I pulled out a small jar, unscrewing the lid like I was defusing a bomb. Before the full stench could escape, I yanked my collar up over my nose—the mint oil I'd dabbed there earlier finally earning its keep.
The smell that wafted out made even me grateful for my prep work. The others weren't so lucky.
"What is that?" Miyabi choked, backing up with her nose scrunched.
"My special blend," I said proudly, voice muffled through my collar. "Fermented skunk cabbage, three-day-old fish paste, and a touch of that yellow fungus that grows behind the Academy toilets. I call it 'Essence of Regret.'"
Droopy Eyes, still tied to Slouchy, went pale. "You wouldn't."
"Oh, I absolutely would," I promised, dipping a small stick into the nasty mixture. "A little dab behind the ears, maybe some war paint across the cheeks. You'll be the talk of the Academy for weeks—or at least until the smell fades. If it ever does."
"That's so mean!" Slouchy protested, squirming harder against his improvised bonds.
I stepped toward them with my goo-covered stick. "Hold still. This'll only destroy your social life."
"Wait!" Miyabi jumped between us. "What's the favor?"
I smiled. "Simple. Go to your core flag, destroy it, and bring me the remains as proof."
All four members of Team 4 gaped at me. "Destroy our flag? That's our mission objective!"
"Totally destroy it," I raised my eyebrows. "I just want proof. Unless you'd rather I use my special cologne on your teammates?"
"Takada-sensei will fail us!" Miyabi objected.
I waggled my smelly stick toward the tied-up boys, who all tried desperately to escape. "Pick your poison, Miyabi-chan. Takada-sensei's disappointment, or the eternal stench of regret burned into your skins. Berry stains fade, but this smell? It's the gift that keeps on giving."
To make my point, I stepped closer to the boys and waved my hand near their faces, safe behind my mint-scented collar. The reaction was instant and brutal. Droopy Eyes made a sound like a cat coughing up its own lungs, while Slouchy's face went through seven different flavors of pure horror.
"It's in my nose!" Droopy Eyes gagged. "It's actually burning my nose hairs!"
"My eyes are watering," Slouchy wheezed. "Is this what dying feels like?"
Noboru, still stuck by the tree, immediately turned and dry-heaved into a nearby bush.
Something flashed in the corner of my eye—blonde hair, then the high-pitched whistle of metal cutting air. I jerked sideways as three shuriken punched into the tree trunk where my shoulder had been a split second before.
"Let them go," Miyabi demanded, already closing the distance with scary speed. Her stance shifted into classic Senju combat form—feet shoulder-width, right hand forward, left hand chambered at her hip.
"Negotiation phase over already?" I asked, pocketing my jar. "And here I thought we were having such a nice chat."
She answered with her fist. A right jab transformed mid-swing into an elbow strike aimed straight for my temple. I twisted inside her guard, the attack missing so close I felt her sleeve brush my ear and caught the scent of sweat and cedar.
I bumped her forward with my shoulder while stepping back, using her momentum against her to create space. Her eyes flashed with surprise—she hadn't expected me to slip that attack so easily.
"Your traps were clever," she said, circling me with quick, measured steps. "But your taijutsu is something else."
She exploded forward—palm strike to solar plexus, then a knife-hand to the throat, flowing smoothly into a backwards-spinning heel kick. I blocked the palm with my forearm, ducked the knife-hand by a hair, then caught her ankle mid-spin and redirected her like a spinning top.
Miyabi didn't miss a beat. She used my grip as leverage, launching her free leg at my face in a butterfly kick. I let go of her ankle and dropped flat, her foot whistling over me as I rolled back into a crouch, dirt grinding into my palms.
"Not bad," I said, chest heaving slightly as I watched her land with perfect balance. "You fight like a true Senju."
Her response was a diving lunge that suddenly twisted into a handspring at the last second, her feet nearly connecting with my chin as she flipped over me. I sidestepped and spun to face her landing, just in time to meet a barrage of rapid-fire strikes aimed at every weak spot on my torso.
"You know," I commented as I deflected her attacks with open-palm parries, "with that blonde hair and those amber eyes, you're the spitting image of Tsunade-sama."
Her rhythm hiccupped for just a heartbeat—enough for me to counter with a palm thrust that pushed her back two steps.
"Is that supposed to distract me?" she growled, channeling something into her right fist as she charged again. The attack connected with a tree as I dodged, splintering the bark like she was trying to make firewood.
"Just making an observation," I replied, circling her with quick steps. "The legendary beauty of the Senju clan clearly runs in the family."
She dropped low without warning, sweeping both arms in a wide arc that forced me to jump. I twisted in the air, the kunai she'd thrown slicing through my sleeve as I barely avoided the blade.
"Is that all anyone sees?" she muttered through clenched teeth. She sank into the Tiger stance—knees bent, hands open like claws, her whole body coiled and ready to spring in any direction.
I matched her stance, watching her eyes for the next attack. "Hit a nerve, did I?"
She unleashed a storm of Tiger-style strikes—open-palms smashing toward my sternum, throat, and face in rapid succession. Each hit carried enough power to drop me on the spot if they landed clean. I slipped between them, redirecting her force rather than blocking directly, letting her burn energy while I conserved mine.
"Try living with it," she snapped, frustration flashing in her eyes as another strike whistled past my ear. "Everyone staring, always comparing. 'When will you start training at the hospital?' 'Why aren't you at the hospital like Tsunade-sama?'"
I caught her wrist as she overextended on a straight punch, feeling the tendons tense under my fingers as I yanked her off-balance. She countered instantly, dropping her center of gravity and twisting into my space, trying to use my own grip as leverage against me.
"Family expectations," I nodded, releasing her before she could complete the counter and stepping back. "Worse than enemy kunai sometimes."
She paused, breathing slightly heavy, rethinking her approach. Her eyes flicked to her trapped teammates, then back to me.
"Where's your team during all this?" she asked, circling again. "Or did they assign flag defense to their best fighter?"
"Who says I'm their best?" I replied with a grin.
Her eyes narrowed. "You took down my entire team single-handed."
"Maybe your team just needs more practice," I suggested, earning a glare that could melt steel.
She attacked again—complex combination starting with a feinted right cross that transformed into a spinning backfist, flowing into an axe kick that would have bruised my shoulder if it landed. I redirected each strike with barely any effort, waiting for the opening I knew would come.
It appeared when she committed too much weight to a forward thrust kick. I sidestepped, hooked her supporting ankle with my foot, and pushed her shoulder with just enough force to break her balance. The move sent her sprawling forward, though she turned the fall into a combat roll and bounced back to her feet—her face flushed with frustration.
But I was already there, stepping into her space before she could reset her stance. One hand twisted the fabric at her collar while the other gripped her hip, creating that perfect split-second where her body couldn't respond—leaving her completely exposed and unable to counter.
"You're better than I expected," she admitted, voice tight as she realized how vulnerable she was.
"You're not so bad yourself," I replied, maintaining the hold without applying pressure—just enough to show I could end things if I wanted.
"Let's make a deal," she proposed. "You let my team go, and we'll give you our secondary flags. We've collected two already."
"Interesting offer," I remarked. "Why would I accept when I could just take them anyway?"
"Because we could help each other," she countered. "My team against yours. Alliance."
I pretended to think about it, releasing her collar to tap my chin with my free hand. "Tempting. Very tempting."
She tried to straighten, testing my grip. "So we have a—"
The slight shift gave me exactly what I needed. I let go of her collar and snatched both wrists. Before she could react, I spun her around, her own jacket becoming her prison as I manipulated the fabric like I was gift-wrapping a difficult present.
I ripped her belt free with a sharp tug and threaded it through the bunched sleeves, cinching it tight with a quick pull that made her grunt in surprise. My fingers worked faster than she could follow, turning her expensive jacket into perfect restraints.
By the time she realized what was happening, Miyabi found herself trussed up like her teammates—basically a human dumpling with better breeding.
"I call this one 'Senju Spring Roll,'" I announced, stepping back to admire my work. "Not quite as stylish as Tsunade's outfits, but it has charm."
She struggled against her fabric prison, managing only to roll onto her side with an undignified grunt.
"You're a monster," Miyabi whispered.
"Monster is such a harsh word," I sighed. "I'm just a shinobi with standards." I retrieved my jar of death from the nearby stump and unscrewed the lid with a flourish, drawing horrified looks from my captive audience. "Now, about those flags we were discussing..."
I turned back to Slouchy and Droopy Eyes, who renewed their desperate struggling at the sight of the opened container. I swirled my lovely stick in small circles near the boys' faces. A drop of the toxic substance dripped ominously toward them.
"Fine!" Miyabi shouted. "I'll do it! Just—just put that away!"
I screwed the lid back on with a smug grin. "Excellent choice. You have fifteen minutes. Any longer, and I'll assume you're reneging, in which case..." I patted the jar lovingly.
"How do I know you won't do it anyway after I leave?" she demanded, tossing her blonde hair back with attitude.
"Shinobi's honor," I replied, placing my hand over my heart.
"You don't have any honor!"
"I'm hurt, truly," I said, not looking hurt at all. "But fine—I'll sweeten the deal. Go to your core flag, completely destroy it, and bring me what's left. Not only will I spare your teammates from smell hell, I'll also set them free."
Miyabi glanced at her suffering teammates, then back at me. "30 minutes. I'll need time to reach our flag."
"Deal, but I'm keeping this open as insurance." I unscrewed the lid again, setting the jar on a nearby stump where the breeze carried its unholy aroma directly toward the captives, while I remained safely upwind, breathing through my collar.
Miyabi shot me one last glare before darting into the forest, leaves crunching under her angry footfalls.
"She's not coming back, is she?" Noboru asked sadly after she disappeared.
"Oh, she'll be back," I assured him, keeping a safe distance from my own biological weapon. "Self-preservation is one thing, but teammate preservation? That's shinobi 101."
Droopy Eyes was trying to breathe through his mouth. "What is actually in that stuff?"
"Trade secret," I replied, sitting cross-legged on a clean patch of ground. "But I can tell you the fungus behind the Academy toilets was definitely the finishing touch."
"There's no fungus behind the Academy toilets," Slouchy said with narrow eyes.
I winked. "There is now. I planted it three weeks ago for exactly this."
"You're lying," Squinty called from her net.
"Am I?" I asked mysteriously, knowing full well I absolutely was. The jar actually contained a harmless but extraordinarily nasty-smelling mix I'd made from ordinary kitchen stuff. The power of suggestion was doing most of the work.
We settled into an uncomfortable waiting game—uncomfortable mainly for my captives, who were now trying various breathing techniques to minimize their exposure to the jar's fumes. I kept myself busy by whistling cheerfully and occasionally giving the jar a little swirl, which never failed to produce fresh gagging sounds from my audience.
To my genuine surprise, Miyabi returned in just under 25 minutes, her face flushed from running and her right hand clutching what was clearly the shredded remains of a core flag. The fabric was torn to pieces, with clear evidence of kunai slashes and what looked like burn attempts.
"Impressive," I commented as she skidded to a halt before me, breathing hard. She thrust the destroyed cloth toward me. "Here. Now let them go."
I examined her offering carefully. The red fabric was thoroughly mangled, blackened scorch marks and burn holes hiding where Team 4's emblem had once been. The destruction looked almost vindictive. "How did you manage the destruction so quickly?"
"Kunai, flint and steel," she replied curtly, using a sleeve to wipe sweat from her brow. "Now fulfill your end of the bargain."
"With pleasure." I rose and replaced the lid on my jar of death, much to the visible relief of my captives. Then I approached the human dumpling known as Droopy Eyes and Slouchy.
"Behold, the release of the Dumpling Jutsu," I announced, deftly untying the complex knot that held everything together. In seconds, they sprawled free on the forest floor, scrambling desperately for their stuff.
While they sorted out whose belt was whose, I strolled over to Squinty's suspended net and slashed her down with my kunai. She landed with surprising grace for someone who'd been hanging upside down for the better part of twenty minutes.
"I have to say," I remarked, tucking my kunai into my pouch alongside the secondary flags, "I didn't think you'd actually do it. Burning your own core flag? That's commitment."
Miyabi's lips curled into a sly smile. "Who said it was ours?"
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You asked for proof that I burned a core flag. This is proof that I burned a core flag." She gestured to the charred fabric. "Team 5's flag, to be precise."
My surprise gave way to admiration. "You sneaky little—"
"It's creativity," she mimicked my earlier tone. "I just applied your lesson."
The other members of Team 4 were looking at Miyabi with expressions from shock to respect.
"And Team 5 was none the wiser—they were too busy fighting another team when I slipped in." Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction at my reaction.
I stared at her for a long moment, then threw back my head and laughed. "Well played, Miyabi-chan. Well played indeed."
She offered a small, triumphant smile. "So we're free to go?"
"Absolutely," I confirmed with a nod. "You've more than earned it." I gestured to their now-freed teammates. "Though the stains might take a day to fade."
Droopy Eyes was trying to rub some of the blue stains from his clothing with limited success. "This isn't over, Shinji," he grumbled, though there was less heat in his voice now.
"I certainly hope not," I replied cheerfully. "You've all become much more interesting than I gave you credit for."
Miyabi gathered her team like a mother hen collecting chicks. And as they began to file away, Noboru, now fully freed from his bindings, paused beside me. "That stuff," he said quietly, gesturing to the jar. "What was really in it?"
I winked. "Mostly cabbage water and food coloring. The power of suggestion is a shinobi's greatest weapon."
His eyes went wide. "But the smell—"
"Oh, it definitely stinks," I confirmed. "Just not half as bad as your reactions suggested. Psychology is a beautiful thing."
With a final glance, he hurried after his departing teammates, leaving me alone in my trap-filled clearing.
I surveyed the aftermath of my morning's work—scattered berry stains, disturbed foliage, trampled ground, and some secondary flags in my pouch, plus what was definitely the remains of Team 5's core flag.
"Not exactly according to plan," I mused, "but far more entertaining."
I took a celebratory swig from my flask, enjoying the warm sensation as the sake traveled down my throat.
"I wonder how the others are doing," I said, watching Team 4 disappear into the trees. "But first..."
A slow smile spread across my face as I pocketed my jar. The blonde Senju and her team had put on an admirable performance, but the game wasn't quite over.
"Their core flag is still intact somewhere," I murmured, setting off in the direction Miyabi had run. "And I think it's time to complete my collection."
After all, leaving Team 4's flag intact posed a risk I couldn't ignore. What if they regrouped and decided my territory made for perfect revenge? My traps were good, but a motivated Senju with a grudge wasn't something to take lightly.
"Nothing personal, Miyabi-chan," I muttered to the forest as I picked up speed. "Just covering my bases."