The desert was quiet.

  Not silent, but quiet in that bone-deep, aching way that made you feel small.

  Wind whispered across dunes that stretched like ripples in an ancient ocean, and in the distance, the ruined skyline of Rōran jutted from the sands like broken teeth.

  Ryuu stood at the edge of it, hood drawn low, sand biting at his cloak. The ruins had once been a kingdom. Now, they were just a memory too stubborn to die.

  He adjusted his pack and stepped forward, boots crunching on stone worn smooth by time. Beneath his feet lay the carcass of a dream, a city built on the back of a ley line so potent it could warp the course of nations.

  The Ryūmyaku lay sealed underneath these lands.

  The events of the so-called “Movie” from his memories were surprisingly vague, and everything didn’t exactly match its events. Some things were slightly off, while some others were unchanged.

  One of those things being the fact that the Ryūmyaku was sealed by Minato.

  That much, at least, was still true.

  And yet, Rōran still stood, barely.

  He descended into what was once a main promenade, cracked tile stretching beneath the layers of sediment and heat. His senses remained open, extending and covering a vast distance.

  There was a disturbance.

  Faint, but it was there.

  Human chakra.

  He adjusted the course.

  The remnants of Rōran’s royal line hadn’t shown up in any intelligence report. Most considered the line extinct. After all, the city had fallen decades ago, its people scattered.

  But legends had a way of clinging to survivors.

  He knew that at least one living survivor was left, and that was Sara’s daughter.

  She was the key to gaining access to the Ryumyaku.

  Ryuu moved with a practiced silence, his footsteps slowly became silent, as if he were never there. Even the footprints he had left before disappeared as if they were never there.

  He followed the faint signature deeper into the ruins, past crumbling facades and sand-filled courtyards. The signature led to the only still-imposing structure, the central spire, the former palace.

  He found them there, a small community clinging to life in the sheltered heart of the old city.

  They were a people of ghosts, their faces etched with the harsh lines of survival.

  Their guards were gaunt, but their eyes were sharp, their patched clothing and scavenged weapons a testament to their tenacity.

  Ryuu, clad in the plain, dark garb he used for such deep-cover operations, lowered his hood, revealing the disarming features of a boy not much older than their own children. He carried no visible weapon, his hands open.

  “I am a traveler,” he said, his voice quiet. “Seeking knowledge of the past.”

  ‘Well, that was simple.’

  He sat in a makeshift tent, in front of him was Sara’s daughter, looking at him with a perplexed gaze. Next to her two guards stood, in a much better state than the ones outside. It was obvious by their signatures that they knew how to mold chakra, but it was unknown if they could fight like Shinobi.

  At the very least, they were on the level of low-ranking samurai.

  “I didn’t expect to talk to a traveler interested in our country’s history… You know, this place is nothing but ruins.”

  The girl spoke with a hint of unease, her eyes darting from her guards to Ryuu constantly.

  “I understand the worry, but it’s simply curiosity that has brought me here. I originally came from the land of fire and travel around to many different places. Though I’m still young so it’s not like I’ve seen a lot of places.”

  Ryuu chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. He knew that he first had to earn their trust before anything.

  The current refugees were nothing more than parasites to the Wind Country and were constantly monitored and managed.

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  He needed to make sure to earn their trust and even relieve them of the burden the Wind Country had placed on them.

  After all, he wasn’t an ungrateful person. He was already using them for his own ambitions, especially since he would be essentially taking away their heritage.

  “The Land of Fire has a long reach,” she commented, her voice carefully neutral. It was not a question, but a statement of fact, a test. “Few travel this far east without purpose.”

  “My purpose is knowledge,” Ryuu countered smoothly. “The history of Rōran is… incomplete in the archives of the great villages.”

  He watched her carefully.

  He didn’t directly mention the Ryūmyaku. He knew it would immediately raise their guards.

  "This place... it feels as though it once held a vibrant power, now merely a whisper in the dust. A power that, if understood, might have changed its fate. Or yours."

  He paused, letting the implication hang in the air.

  "Survival is difficult out here, for an isolated group."

  Her gaze sharpened at those words, a flicker of something raw in her eyes.

  “Survival is all we know.”

  Her voice was tight.

  “The sand devours everything. Even history. We seek no… attention.”

  The last word was tinged with bitter experience, hinting at past interactions with outsiders that had likely ended badly for her people.

  “Why concern yourself with us, then, if all you seek is forgotten knowledge?”

  She crossed her arms, challenging him.

  Ryuu met her gaze evenly, letting a hint of genuine sympathy soften his expression.

  “Because some stories hold more than just knowledge. They hold warnings. And sometimes,” his voice dropped slightly, gaining a touch of profound weariness far beyond his apparent age, “they hold solutions for problems yet to come. A peace built on ignorance is a fragile thing. True strength comes from understanding.”

  Over the next week, Ryuu made himself indispensable without overstepping.

  He offered advice on fortifying their existing shelters against the shifting sands. He subtly optimized their water purification system, improving the yield from their hidden wells. He offered basic medical care for the children, soothing their coughs and minor ailments with herbs from his pack.

  Sara’s daughter, whose name was revealed to be Lyra, watched him, her keen intelligence observing his every move. His polite deference, his practical help, his quiet words about safety and resilience resonated with her.

  The Wind Country Daimyo had squeezed them for resources, seeing them as little more than a nuisance in their remote territory. Sunagakure occasionally sent scouts, assessing the area, but never offered aid, seeing them as an inconvenience rather than people.

  "There are those in the Land of Wind," Lyra stated one afternoon, observing Ryuu quietly training his fuinjutsu skills by drawing seals repeatedly, "who believe Rōran’s true legacy died with my mother. That our connection to this place is a… weakness."

  It was a fishing question, a probe for his stance on their sovereignty and the ancient power buried underneath this place.

  “A people’s legacy isn’t found in dust and ruins.”

  Ryuu replied, without looking up from his work.

  “It’s in their will to survive. Their ability to adapt. Their understanding of themselves.”

  He tapped the ground.

  “This city. It once drew power from here, didn't it? Something that ran through the very earth.”

  It wasn't a question, more a gentle statement of deduction.

  “Such a power, if misunderstood, could be dangerous. If unprotected, a temptation.”

  A sudden flicker caught Ryuu's enhanced senses. Outside the encampment, a signature slipped into his range. It was a distorted, yet distinctly human chakra. Bloated. Heavy. And carrying a scent of something unnatural, something that reeked oddly enough.

  It moved with unnatural speed, almost too quick for normal perception, even without overt displays of jutsu.

  Ryuu masked his internal jolt of recognition. The game had just changed. He wasn’t sure who had just arrived here, but he was suspicious it was Mukade. This was different from the timeline he knew, but he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Things hadn’t gone his way for years now.

  He feigned a sudden weariness, placing a hand to his head. "Forgive me, Lyra-san, a lingering effect of my journey. The sun can be harsh out here. I find focus… difficult at times."

  Lyra’s brow furrowed with concern, accepting his excuse as a physiological truth.

  “You should rest,” she offered, gesturing to his tent. "My guards will continue the patrols."

  “Thank you,” Ryuu murmured, rising stiffly. “A little solitude is what I need to clear my thoughts.”

  He excused himself, sliding discreetly into his tent. His eyes turned cold immediately as he expanded his senses even further.

  He created a shadow clone and made it act as a decoy for anyone seeking him out, while his real body went out towards the signature.

  It didn’t take long to reach the place, finding a hooded figure staring at him in surprise. Although Ryuu had hidden his chakra signature, he didn’t bother hiding his body, appearing before Mukade.

  “Who are you?”

  “Dead men shouldn’t be asking questions.”

  “Wha-“

  Before Mukade could even voice out his confusion, his vision blurred, and Ryuu appeared before him, a sharp bone spike extending from his palm.

  The spike pierced clean through his skull, right between the eyes, before his mind could even register the threat.

  No resistance.

  Just sudden, irreversible death.

  His body twitched once. Then crumpled like a discarded puppet, eyes still wide, mouth frozen mid-word.

  Ryuu didn’t pause.

  With a fluid step back, he raised one hand and grabbed his head.

  A bloom of cold enveloped Mukade’s corpse. Flesh, blood, and brittle bones froze solid in an instant, locking the body in its final grotesque sprawl. Ice crawled over the ground in silent threads, forming jagged rings beneath his feet.

  Then Ryuu moved again.

  He slammed his frozen corpse on the floor with full force.

  Mukade’s body shattered.

  Frozen shards of flesh and bone scattered like shattered glass, catching no moonlight, making no sound beyond the initial impact. A few slivers of what had once been a man tumbled into the sand, only to vanish beneath it as if swallowed by the desert itself.

  Ryuu stood alone for a bit longer, glancing at the remains, then turned and vanished into the ruins with the same soundless grace that had brought him here.

  Ryuu returned before dawn.

  The desert had begun to cool, the stifling heat peeling away into a soft, bitter cold. In the distance, a dog barked once, then fell silent. No one noticed his absence. No one would. He entered his tent without disturbing a grain of sand.

  The clone he had left behind was still seated in meditation. With a thought, Ryuu dispelled it. Memories flickered through his mind in an instant, camp movement, patrol routes, idle chatter.

  Nothing had changed.

  He sat down, unrolled a weathered scroll, and began drawing new layers onto an existing sealing array. Lines etched with the faint scent of ink coiled like veins over the parchment, growing more intricate with each stroke. His movements were methodical, as though murder had not just been committed beneath the moonlight.

  Mukade was gone. Completely.

  Not even a chakra trace remained. No one in Rōran would know he had even come here. No one in Suna would know he had been killed.