Chapter 153: Chapter 153: Have We Met?
"Found you."
Kitahara Kaede’s muscles tensed instantly.
He had assumed Pakura had already left, but her voice rang out directly above him.
In the next heartbeat, he pushed off the ground, sliding laterally until his back hit another tree, a kunai already gripped firmly in his palm.
He looked up.
Pakura was hanging upside down from the branch he had just vacated, her arms crossed, her orange eyes staring down at him.
Her gaze was ice-cold.
It held murderous intent, but also something else—something he couldn’t quite decipher.
"Kitahara Kaede."
She enunciated his name slowly, emphasizing every single syllable.
Kaede looked at her, remaining silent for a moment.
The fact that she had appeared here meant she had never truly left. Perhaps she had doubled back, or perhaps she had circled around from the start, waiting for him to show his face.
The incident at the inn had clearly made her far more cautious.
What was more troubling was that she hadn’t attacked immediately upon seeing him. That meant she had questions.
Pakura flipped gracefully from the branch and landed five meters away. Her orange bangs were slightly disheveled from the movement, but she didn’t bother to fix them.
"From this moment on, I ask, you answer."
She stared at the kunai in Kaede’s hand.
"Try to lie to me, and I’ll kill you."
Kaede didn’t put the weapon away, but he let his hand drop casually by his side.
"Ask."
Pakura took a step forward.
"You stole my scroll."
Kaede paused for a heartbeat, then nodded.
"I did."
There was no surprise on Pakura’s face. She simply wanted to hear the admission from his own lips.
"Which is why Konoha set up their defenses in advance, Sunagakure’s plans were forced to change, and we ended up launching a frontal assault on Mount Kikyo."
Her voice was flat and dangerous.
"It was all because of you."
Kaede looked at her. "We were enemies to begin with."
The corner of Pakura’s mouth twitched, her expression darkening.
"Enemies?"
She took another step forward.
"Then how did you know I was from Sunagakure?"
Kaede froze.
"At the inn, the first time you saw me," Pakura pressed, her eyes locking onto his. "How did you know I was carrying intelligence? How did you know exactly where to look through my things?"
Kaede didn’t answer.
There was no way to explain this logically. He couldn’t exactly tell her that he knew everything about her.
Pakura searched his face. "Can’t find an answer?"
Kaede remained silent.
The anger in Pakura’s eyes intensified.
"Fine."
She stopped three meters away.
"Then what about the wardrobe?"
Kaede’s grip on the kunai tightened slightly.
This was the real issue.
The scroll could be explained by their opposing allegiances—spying and theft were standard practice among shinobi. But the wardrobe was different.
Pakura’s voice dropped an octave.
"You hid in the wardrobe of my room."
She stepped closer again.
"Why?"
Kaede looked at her. "By the time I got the intelligence, I was ready to leave, but the sound of the water stopped. I didn’t have time to get out."
Pakura stared at him. "So you hid in the wardrobe."
"Yes."
"And while I was changing..."
Kaede didn’t respond.
Pakura continued to close the distance. There were only two meters left between them.
"What did you see?"
Kaede’s gaze shifted slightly to the side.
It was a tiny movement, but Pakura caught it clearly. Her face sank completely.
"Kitahara Kaede!"
The moment his name left her lips, she moved.
A roundhouse kick swept in from the side, blindingly fast and vicious. Kaede leaned back to dodge it. The wind of the strike whistled past his waist, shattering a piece of tree bark behind him.
He glanced at the trunk. If that kick had landed, at least two of his ribs would have snapped.
Pakura didn’t stop after retracting her leg; she immediately followed up with a sharp elbow strike. Kaede raised his arm to block, the force pushing him back half a step.
She wasn’t using Scorch Release, but every strike was fueled by pure rage.
Kaede didn’t counterattack. He knew he was in the wrong. In the simulations, he had failed to meet her. In reality, he had accidentally seen things he shouldn’t have. He was paying the price for both.
Pakura’s offensive grew more frantic. Her kunai sliced through his sleeve, the blade grazing his skin.
Kaede’s expression grew colder. Letting her vent was one thing, but actually getting his shoulder impaled was another.
Taking advantage of the gap as he retreated, Pakura lunged with a thrust aimed at his right shoulder.
Kaede finally moved.
He caught Pakura’s wrist, pressing his thumb against the outer bone and giving it a light, outward twist.
The tip of the kunai was diverted.
Pakura froze.
She looked down at her wrist.
Why did this movement feel so familiar? It was so familiar that her mind went blank for a split second.
The person in her dreams... whenever they dealt with her attacks, they had locked her wrist exactly like this. Through several encounters and tests in those dreams, she had attacked in the same way, and the other person had neutralized her with the same angle and pressure every time.
Pakura violently yanked her hand back and retreated two steps.
When she looked at Kaede again, the anger was still there, but it was no longer pure.
"Who taught you that move?"
Kaede was stunned.
He had simply acted on instinct to avoid being injured. Now that she had asked, he realized why.
In the simulations, he had blocked her like this more than once.
"Just a habit," he replied quickly.
Pakura didn’t speak. She looked at her wrist, then tightened her grip on the kunai.
This time, she wasn’t rushing to vent her anger. She pressed forward from the front, her speed slightly slower, but every strike was designed to test his reactions.
Kaede soon realized something was wrong.
She was testing him. Not his strength, but his habits.
Pakura shifted her angles of attack. Kaede could neutralize one, but not all of them. Some reactions were simply subconscious.
When she cut in from the right, he would dodge half a step. When she twisted her wrist with the kunai, he would instinctively seal her elbow. When she intentionally left an opening at her shoulder, he didn’t pursue the attack; instead, he subconsciously shifted his weight to avoid a line that would have sent her crashing backward.
Pakura’s gaze became increasingly complex.
Why? Why did this person feel so familiar?
Suddenly, she accelerated, thrusting the kunai straight at Kaede’s face.
Kaede tilted his head to dodge. In just a few breaths, he had been forced back several steps. Slowly, his own irritation began to rise.
As Pakura closed in again, a momentary gap opened on her left side.
Without thinking, Kaede threw an elbow in a counterattack.
Pakura hadn’t expected him to suddenly strike. Her footing slipped, and she began to fall backward.
Kaede’s hand moved faster than his thoughts. He grabbed her forearm and pulled her back toward him.
Pakura crashed straight into his chest.
Both of them froze.
They were too close. So close that Kaede could smell the faint scent of her perfume.
Pakura looked up and saw his face. In that instant, the anger in her eyes faltered.
Kaede stiffened. That, too, had been an instinctive reaction.
Pakura quickly broke free from his grip and retreated several steps. She stood there, her breathing slightly more labored than before.
In that last moment, he could have easily attacked her. From the beginning until now, he had been playing purely defensive. Even his only counterattack ended with him pulling her back to safety.
This didn’t feel like an enemy.
Nor did it feel like a random Konoha ninja who had nothing to do with her.
Pakura looked at him, her voice much softer.
"Have we met before?"
Kaede answered quickly. "At the inn?"
Pakura stared at him.
"That’s not what I’m asking."
Kitahara Kaede didn’t respond.
He glanced toward the distant woods.
"Konoha patrols might be nearby. Continuing this fight won’t do either of us any favors."
Pakura’s lips curled into a sneer. "You think I’m afraid?"
"You aren’t," Kaede said, his eyes fixed on her. "But you aren’t the type to act out of pure spite."
The kunai in Pakura’s hand paused.
Those words felt hauntingly familiar. The person in her dreams had said the same thing. It was a level of composure that was infuriating, yet it felt as though he truly understood her.
Pakura tightened her grip on the kunai, wanting to press him further. Suddenly, a bird’s cry echoed from the distance.
It was the Sunagakure contact signal.
Pakura looked toward the sound. She had to leave.
She shifted her gaze back and took a half-step closer, pressing the kunai against the left side of Kaede’s neck. The blade rested against his skin, but she didn’t pierce it.
"As for the scroll, I’ll take it back on the battlefield," she whispered.
She paused. "And about the closet... you’d better make sure I never hear that a third person knows about it for the rest of your life."
Kaede looked at her. "There won’t be a third person."
Pakura withdrew her kunai and turned to leave.
She had walked a short distance when her pace suddenly slowed. The forest was deathly quiet, and all those familiar feelings from moments ago began to coalesce in her mind.
Pakura closed her eyes, then opened them again. She didn’t look back.
"If a promise is broken in one lifetime..." Her voice was much softer now. "If they meet again in the next, does the vow still hold?"
Kaede froze. He hadn’t expected her to ask that.
In the next instant, the realization hit him: Pakura’s dreams were likely far more complete than he had anticipated.
Kaede opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
He couldn’t give her an answer. In the simulation, he had stood her up. In reality, he had just stolen her intelligence and hidden in a closet, seeing things he wasn’t supposed to see.
Anything he said now would ring hollow.
After a few seconds of silence, Pakura turned around.
She looked at Kitahara Kaede. The anger in those orange eyes had faded significantly, replaced by something far heavier.
Kaede still didn’t speak.
Pakura waited for two breaths, then turned back and leaped into the canopy. After a few swift bounds, her figure vanished into the depths of the dense forest.
Kaede remained standing where he was. The wind rustled through the leaves with a soft, shushing sound.
He looked down at his hand.
’I’m in deep trouble.’
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