Naruto: We Agreed on a Simulation, But They Actually Came to Life?

Chapter 143: Chapter 143: See No Evil

Kitahara Kaede landed without a sound on the balcony of Pakura’s room.

The moment his feet touched the wooden planks, he absorbed every bit of the impact, ensuring not a single vibration escaped. He didn’t enter immediately. Instead, he crouched by the balcony door, back pressed against the wall, listening intently for several breaths.

The sound of water from the bathroom was steady and unchanging. She was still inside.

Kaede slowly peeked his head around the corner to scan the room. The layout was nearly identical to his own. A ninja tool bag sat by the head of the bed. Pakura’s discarded dark cloak was draped over the back of a chair, with her neatly folded shinobi attire resting on the seat.

He shifted his gaze toward the main entrance. Just as he suspected, a tiny bell was wedged inside the doorframe. If anyone tried to enter from the front, the bell would inevitably ring. However, the balcony side was completely clean—no traps, no alarms.

Kaede withdrew his gaze and did one final check of the bathroom. The door was closed, and a thin veil of steam drifted from the gap at the bottom. The sound of water was intermittent, occasionally punctuated by the splash of someone moving in the tub.

She was still in. But he didn’t have much time. Given Pakura’s temperament, she wouldn’t stay in there forever. If she stepped out while he was still in the room, the situation would spiral out of control instantly.

Without another thought, Kaede stepped into the room, his feet hitting the floor in absolute silence. Once inside, he quickly swept the room with his eyes.

No maps. No letters. No exposed scrolls.

The room was pristine; it seemed she had gone straight to the bath upon arriving. The item could only be in two places: the tool bag or her clothes.

Kaede’s eyes first landed on the tool bag by the bed. According to shinobi habit, classified items were usually kept with weapons for quick access and easy evacuation. He prayed the document was in the bag; that way, he wouldn’t have to touch Pakura’s clothes.

He stepped lightly to the bedside, knelt, and flicked open the strap of the tool bag. It was well-stocked: ninja tools, combat supplies, medical gear. He sifted through them one by one, but with every item he moved, his heart sank further.

Even at the very bottom, there was no sign of the document.

Kaede carefully placed everything back exactly where it had been and fastened the strap. He stood up, his gaze falling on the folded clothes on the chair.

His hand hesitated. The sound of water continued to echo from the bathroom.

Kaede stared at the clothes for a few seconds. When shinobi performed classified missions, some would sew small scrolls into the inner linings of their clothing, keeping them pressed against their skin. It was far more secure than a tool bag; it was harder to detect during a body search and could be transferred instantly during a wardrobe change.

He knew the logic. But those were the clothes Pakura had just taken off.

Kaede closed his eyes.

’For the mission,’ he told himself.

He stepped toward the chair. Pakura’s dark cloak was on top, with her folded shinobi tunic and trousers beneath it. Kaede used his fingertips to lift the corner of the cloak, quickly feeling along the inside. No hidden pockets.

He set the cloak back and moved his hand to the tunic. Using only two fingers, he traced the edge of the collar downward. His movement stopped the moment his fingertip hit something hard.

An inner pocket.

Kaede retrieved a small scroll from the lining. It was sealed with the brown twine common in Sunagakure, the string showing signs of wear from being untied and retied frequently, suggesting it had been used often recently.

He untied the string with one hand and unfurled the scroll. He only needed one glance.

It was a distribution map of the clearing zone on the outskirts of Mount Kikyo. The march routes of three small squads, their coverage areas, and the codenames of the squad leaders were all clearly marked. In the bottom right corner, the evacuation deadline was noted: before dawn.

This was it.

In three seconds, Kaede committed the key routes, coverage zones, and markings to memory. He then rolled the scroll back to its original state and slid it back into the inner pocket.

He turned to make his exit.

Just as he lifted his foot, a flash of movement caught his eye. A corner of the collar on the chair had flipped outward. In his haste to check the inner pocket, he had displaced the fold of the garment.

Kaede cursed inwardly. If he left now and she noticed the collar, she would know someone had been there. She was a Jonin; once she became suspicious, she would search the entire room, including the balcony.

He knelt back down and flipped the collar back to its original position, aligning the fold and pressing it back to the left. Just as his hand smoothed out the final crease, the sound of water splashing against skin in the bathroom abruptly stopped.

Kaede’s spine snapped straight.

His first instinct wasn’t to bolt for the balcony. From where he stood, it was five steps to the door. The bathroom door could be pushed open in a single second. There was no time.

He scanned the room. The bed was too low to hide under. The table was too small to mask his frame. Then, he saw the wooden cabinet against the wall.

He flashed toward it, yanked the door open, and slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind him. The wood clicked softly as it closed. He gritted his teeth, pressing himself flat against the cabinet wall, motionless.

The door hadn’t closed completely, leaving a gap barely half a finger wide.

A moment later, the bathroom door opened. Wet footsteps approached, growing louder. Through the gap, Kaede saw a blurred figure.

Pakura emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a bathrobe, a towel in one hand as she dried the back of her neck. The first thing she did was look toward the main door. Her gaze lingered on the gap for a second.

The bell was still in place. No one had entered from the front.

Pakura looked away and scanned the room. The table, the chairs, the bed, the clothes on the chair. Her eyes landed on the clothes and stopped.

Inside the cabinet, Kaede held his breath.

One second. Two seconds.

Pakura shifted her gaze away.

Kaede slowly released the air trapped in his throat through his nostrils, making almost no sound. A layer of cold sweat had broken out across his back.

Outside the gap, Pakura’s figure drifted through his field of vision. She walked to the chair. The neckline of her bathrobe was tied loosely, and her damp, long hair spilled over her shoulders, the orange tips clinging to her collarbone. Droplets of water traced paths down her hair, sliding toward the collar of the robe.

’See no evil.’

He wanted to close his eyes, but that would be worse. The image from that split second, combined with the scent of Pakura’s skin, became even clearer in the darkness. He had no choice but to keep them open, staring at the dark wood in front of him.

The rustle of fabric echoed outside. Pakura was changing.

Listening to the sounds, every second felt as long as an entire day. Kaede had only one thought: *Please leave the room.*

Go eat, go for a walk, do anything. As long as she left the room for even half a minute, he could slip out of the cabinet, leap across the balcony, and return to his own room.

The sound of dressing stopped. Footsteps grew lighter as she moved toward the chair. Pakura sat down. The sound of the towel drying her hair drifted in intermittently.

Kaede waited.

A few minutes later, the drying slowed and then stopped. The room fell silent.

Kaede peeked through the gap. Pakura was sitting in the chair, the towel clutched in her hand and resting on her lap. She wasn’t moving.

She was fully dressed.

She wore a black, backless shinobi outfit, her green hair cascading loosely around her, not yet tied back.

Her gaze shifted, landing directly on him.

Kitahara Kaede’s breath hitched in his throat.

She was looking at the wardrobe.

Pakura’s expression remained serene, her thoughts impossible to read.

She stared at the wardrobe for a few moments.

Then, she stood up.

The sound of footsteps echoed—step by step, she drew closer.

***

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