The Transparent Release puppet stopped mid-step, abandoning its search for Ryūzetsu. Kenji formed the necessary hand seals through the puppet's wooden fingers and activated the Flying Thunder God mark he'd left at the cabin.
After two seconds, space twisted. The world blurred and reformed. Then it materialized inside Karin's bedroom. It had barely settled into position when footsteps sounded outside.
A key scraped in the lock. The door flew open hard enough to bang against the wall. A woman rushed into the cabin's main room. She didn't even pause to close the door behind her, just headed straight for the bedroom.
The puppet had already deactivated its Transparent Release by the time she opened the bedroom door. When she entered, she found a stranger sitting calmly on the edge of her daughter's bed, holding Karin in his arms.
She froze.
Every muscle in her body locked up as her brain struggled to process what she was seeing. Her heart launched itself into her throat and her breathing stopped entirely for a moment.
"Who are you?" The words came out shaky.
How had he gotten in? The lock hadn't been broken. There were no signs of forced entry. Which meant he was skilled enough to bypass her security without leaving evidence. Which meant he was dangerous and she had no chance of fighting him.
Her eyes locked onto Karin, checking for injuries. The baby looked unharmed.
"Please," She heard herself saying. She took a half-step forward, hands raised in a pleading gesture. "Please don't hurt her. I'll do anything. Anything you want. I can heal people, no matter how severe the injury. I'm valuable, I can be useful, just please don't hurt my daughter."
The words tumbled out in a rush. She hated how she sounded. But Karin was all she had left. Everything else in her life had been taken or destroyed. Her daughter was the only thing that mattered anymore.
Through the puppet, Kenji felt a bit guilty. This wasn't how he'd wanted to do this. But when he'd been planning the approach, he hadn't been able to think of a better option. Karin's mother wouldn't trust strangers. She wouldn't trust anyone claiming to be from Konoha. And explaining the situation honestly would take time. Once Kusa noticed their most valuable "medical resource" had vanished, they'd send people to investigate.
So he'd defaulted to the crude but effective approach.
Fear.
He made the puppet's expression go cold and hard. When it spoke, the voice was flat.
"If you want your daughter to stay safe, you'll do exactly what I tell you. No tricks. Understand?"
"Yes! Yes, I understand!" She nodded frantically, tears already starting to stream down her face. Her entire body was shaking. "I'll do whatever you say! Just don't hurt her!"
Maybe sensing her mother's terror, or maybe just picking up on the general tension in the room, Karin's face crumpled and she started crying. The sound was piercing in the small space.
The puppet ignored it and continued the interrogation.
"Name?"
"Mizuki. Uzumaki Mizuki."
"Oh, Uzumaki clan?"
"Yes." She swallowed hard. "Yes, I'm Uzumaki."
"The child is really yours?"
"Her name is Karin. Uzumaki Karin. She's six months old. Please... she's just a baby. She hasn't done anything."
"That was not the answer to my question. Forget it... Where's the father?"
The question made Mizuki flinch like she'd been slapped. For a moment she couldn't speak.
"He's dead," she finally managed. "Killed by missing-nin a few months ago. It's just... it's just the two of us now."
Kenji had the puppet nod once, filing away the information. No other ties meant no complications when they disappeared.
"I've heard there's a woman in here who can heal injuries almost instantly," the puppet said. "That would be you."
It wasn't a question.
Mizuki nodded anyway.
"Our village needs someone with your abilities," the puppet continued. "Pack your things. You're coming with me."
The color drained from Mizuki's face completely. Her lips moved but no sound came out at first. When she finally found her voice, it was hollow.
"Where... where are you taking us?"
"That's not your concern. Pack."
Mizuki's mind was spinning. She knew exactly what her life in Kusa was like. Being used as a "mobile medical kit." The constant exhaustion, the way her hands shook now even when she wasn't working... and the premature gray hairs that had started appearing in her twenties. But at least here, she and Karin were alive. They had a roof over their heads and food to eat, even if it was barely enough. Going with this stranger... that could mean anything. A different village that would exploit her even worse. Or maybe he'd just kill her once he was done and take Karin to sell or...
She couldn't finish the thought.
But looking at Karin crying in the stranger's arms, she realized she didn't have a choice. If she refused, he'd hurt her daughter. She could see it in his eyes. This man wouldn't hesitate.
"Okay," she whispered. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'll pack. Just... please don't hurt her."
The puppet watched as Mizuki moved around the bedroom, gathering their possessions with trembling hands. She kept glancing at Karin every few seconds, like she was afraid the baby would disappear if she looked away too long. Her belongings were pathetic. A few changes of clothes for herself, even fewer for Karin. A cloth pouch that held what little money she'd managed to save, probably barely enough to buy a week's worth of food. A small blanket for the baby. That was it.
She bundled everything together, her movements growing more frantic as panic started setting in. This was really happening. She and Karin were being kidnapped. They were leaving and she had no idea where they were going or what would happen to them. When she moved to pick up the bundle, the puppet raised a hand to stop her. It formed a quick hand seal and a puff of smoke revealed a storage puppet.
"Put it in there," the puppet instructed.
Mizuki obeyed, loading her few possessions into the storage compartment.
"Anything else you need?"
She hesitated, looking around the sparse room. Then she darted to the bed and grabbed the threadbare quilt, the only blanket they owned besides Karin's baby blanket. She also snatched up the small iron pot from the corner, one of the only cooking implements she had.
"That's everything," she said quietly. "We don't have anything else."
The puppet loaded the remaining items into the storage puppet and dispelled it with a puff of smoke. Then it turned to face Mizuki directly.
"Stand still. Don't move."
She obeyed, rooting herself in place even though every instinct was screaming at her to grab Karin and flee. But where would she go? The stranger had already proven he could enter her home without detection. Running would just make things worse.
The puppet approached her. Mizuki's entire body went rigid, muscles locking up in preparation for pain. When the puppet's hand touched her shoulder, she flinched violently, a small sound escaping her throat.
She could feel herself shaking. And she couldn't stop it.
The puppet adjusted its grip, one arm securing the still-fussing Karin against its chest while the other hand pressed firmly on Mizuki's shoulder. Then it channeled chakra and activated the Flying Thunder God Technique.
Space twisted.
The world lurched sideways and Mizuki's stomach tried to climb out through her mouth. Reality became elastic, stretching and compressing in ways that made her eyes water and her head spin. Colors bled into each other. Up and down lost all meaning.
Then they were somewhere else.
The puppet didn't pause, just immediately activated the technique again.
Jump.
And again.
Jump.
And again.
Each spatial transfer felt like being turned inside out. Mizuki's vision swam. Her legs threatened to give out. She couldn't tell if they'd been traveling for seconds or hours. Everything blurred together.
Karin was crying again, probably feeling the effects just as badly as her mother. The baby's wails were the only constant.
Even the puppet was starting to strain. Senjutsu chakra was more efficient than normal chakra, but consecutive long-distance teleportations were taxing for anyone. The wooden body moved with slightly less fluidity than before, joints grinding faintly with each motion.
Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, they stopped.
Mizuki immediately collapsed to her hands and knees, dry-heaving. Her head was spinning so violently she could barely see straight. Karin's cries had degraded to exhausted whimpering. The baby looked miserable, her face red and tear-streaked.
"I'm sorry... Let's rest here for a bit," the puppet said.
Mizuki looked up through tear-blurred eyes. She was in a small room with extremely simple furnishings: one bed and one table. In the center of the floor, a kunai with strange markings on its blade was embedded in the wood.
A way station, she realized dimly. He'd been teleporting them along a pre-planned route. Which meant this was organized. Not just some random criminal, but someone with resources and preparation.
That didn't make her feel any safer.
The puppet moved toward the door.
"Wait. Please. Can I... can I feed her?"
She gestured at Karin, who was still whimpering in the puppet's arms.
"She hasn't eaten all day. She must be starving."
The puppet turned back and handed the baby over. As soon as Karin was in her arms, Mizuki clutched her daughter against her chest, finally able to confirm she was safe. The baby immediately latched onto her, seeking comfort.
"My name is Kenji. Yamanaka Kenji," the puppet said, its tone softening slightly. "And before you got back to the cabin, I already fed Karin formula twice. She shouldn't be too hungry."
Mizuki froze, staring at the puppet in confusion. He'd... fed her daughter? Why would a kidnapper bother to...
"Thank you," she whispered, not sure what else to say. "Kenji-sama."
She began adjusting her clothing to nurse Karin, then paused when she realized the stranger was still standing there. Her face flushed with embarrassment.
The puppet seemed to realize the problem at the same moment and quickly turned around, facing the wall. One wooden hand came up to scratch at the back of its head.
"No need to be so formal," it said, clearly trying to fill the awkward silence. "I have a son about Karin's age. I know babies can't go hungry."
Mizuki didn't respond, focusing on getting Karin to nurse. The baby latched on after a moment, her whimpers finally quieting.
The puppet shifted its weight from foot to foot.
"Why did you leave Karin alone for so long?"
The question came out before Kenji could stop it. The moment the words left the puppet's mouth, he realized how stupid it was. Obviously she'd had no choice. Nobody left a six-month-old infant alone in a cabin for twelve hours unless they were being forced to.
Mizuki went still. After a while, she said, "I was treating the lords of Kusa. The work kept me longer than expected."
The phrasing was deliberate. Not "they forced me to stay" or "they wouldn't let me leave."
Kenji understood. He didn't push the issue. The room fell silent except for the quiet sounds of Karin nursing.