The two-day journey was more exhausting than expected.
The terrain at the border of the Land of Birds was complex; the main road ended halfway, leaving only gravel trails.
Jiraiya was the first to collapse.
He slumped onto a rock by the roadside, his legs dangling, looking just like a scallion wilted by the sun.
“Let’s rest for a bit…
just a little bit…
these legs don’t even feel like mine anymore…”
Tsunade was doing better than him, but only slightly.
She braced herself against her knees, panting.
Stray hairs on her forehead were matted with sweat and her lips were pale, but she gritted her teeth and didn’t utter a word of complaint.
Murakami Takuya didn’t even turn his head.
“There’s a stream two kilometers ahead.
We’ll rest when we get there.”
Jiraiya let out a groan.
Tsunade turned her head and shot him a glare.
Kitahara Kaede walked at the very back, his breathing steady.
He fished a military ration pill from his ninja pouch, broke it in half, popped one piece into his mouth, and handed the other to Tsunade.
Tsunade took it and glanced at him.
“Aren’t you tired?”
“I’m alright.”
She didn’t stand on ceremony and tossed it straight into her mouth, chewing.
Her face scrunched up from the bitterness, but after swallowing it, her legs stopped shaking.
Jiraiya raised his hand.
“I—”
“You have your own.”
“I finished them.”
“I told you to bring three before we left.”
“I did bring them!
I ate two when I was hungry on the road, and another one when I was thirsty—”
“That’s your problem.”
Jiraiya opened his mouth, found he had no retort, and wilted even further.
Tsunade scoffed and fished half a piece of dried rations from her own pack, tossing it over to him.
“Don’t die on the road.
It’s embarrassing.”
Jiraiya’s eyes lit up when he caught it.
“Tsunade, you really are—”
“Say one more word and I’m taking it back.”
Jiraiya shut his mouth and buried his head, gnawing on it faster than anyone.
Kitahara Kaede glanced at Tsunade.
Tsunade had a sharp tongue but a soft heart; she hadn’t changed since they were kids.
…
Camping by the stream.
At Murakami Takuya’s command, Jiraiya collapsed face-down onto the grass, motionless.
He started snoring faster than he could set up his tent.
Tsunade unloaded her pack and gave him a kick.
“At least turn your head.
If you suffocate, who’s going to be responsible?”
Jiraiya hummed vaguely, turned his face to the side, and went back to sleep.
Tsunade couldn’t be bothered with him anymore and crouched down to set up her tent.
Kitahara Kaede didn’t stop.
He placed his pack next to Tsunade’s and then walked a circle around the campsite.
Then, he began setting things up.
Thin wires were stretched along the northern edge of the woods—three tripwires, unevenly spaced, at varying heights, with empty cans and gravel tied to the ends.
A smoke bomb was wedged upstream in the creek, rigged to trigger if anyone waded through the water.
In less than ten minutes, a perimeter warning net was added around the campsite.
After Tsunade finished setting up her tent, she turned around just in time to see him walking back from the edge of the northern woods, his hands still covered in mud.
“What were you doing just now?”
“Setting up a few things.”
She walked to the northern edge of the woods, crouched down, and scanned the ground several times.
At first, she saw nothing. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Then she spotted the first wire, so thin it almost blended in with the withered grass, positioned perfectly at the height of an adult’s calf—anyone running over would be tripped at least once.
Furthermore, the three lines weren’t parallel; they were staggered.
If you tripped on the first, you’d collide with the second while trying to get up.
She looked back at Kitahara Kaede.
This fellow Genin, who had graduated from the Ninja Academy with her and spent three months catching fat cats together—when did he learn these things?
“The Ninja Academy never taught this kind of setup.”
“I read it in a book.” Kitahara Kaede’s expression remained unchanged as he crouched by the stream to wash the mud off his hands.
Tsunade stared at him for two seconds.
His expression was the same as always: faint and indifferent.
There was no difference between when he was lying and when he was telling the truth.
She opened her mouth, wanting to press him further.
But in the end, she didn’t.
She turned around and walked back to the tent area, giving Jiraiya another kick as she passed.
“Get up and set up your own tent.”
“Five minutes…
give me five more minutes…”
“Three seconds.
Three, two—”
Murakami Takuya leaned against a tree, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, shifting his gaze away from Kitahara Kaede.
The positions of the tripwires weren’t evenly distributed; they were arranged according to the blind spots of the terrain.
The northern side had the worst visibility, so he set three lines; the southern side was open, so he only placed one.
This child’s method of setup was experience bought with his life in actual combat—investing limited resources into the most dangerous directions.
This wasn’t something you could learn from a book.
This kid…
is he really leaving the village for the first time?
…
By the time the campfire was lit, the night had turned pitch black.
Tsunade squatted by the fire, gnawing on her rations, frowning after every few chews.
“It’s like chewing on wood.”
“Make do.”
“When we get back, I’m going to eat three bowls of pork bone ramen.
With extra eggs.”
“It’s on you.”
“Why?”
“You haven’t paid up from the bet you lost last time.”
Tsunade choked slightly and simply stopped talking, lowering her head to take a vicious bite of her rations, as if venting her frustration on the food.
Jiraiya had long since fallen into a deep sleep, his snoring rising in waves.
Kitahara Kaede noticed that even in his sleep, Jiraiya was still clutching that tattered notebook.
The open page had a crooked stick figure drawn on it, with a line of text next to it: “A hero’s cool landing pose (TBD).”
Kitahara Kaede closed the page.
The campfire crackled, and the night breeze carried the sound of the stream.
Tsunade finished her rations and sat with her arms wrapped around her knees.
“Do you think those wandering samurai…
are really just ordinary people?”
“I don’t know.”
“The mission scroll says seven to ten people.”
“Mm.”
“Then it shouldn’t be too hard, right?”
Kitahara Kaede added a piece of wood to the fire.
“I don’t know.”
Tsunade turned her head to look at him.
The firelight reflected on his profile, his expression showing no fluctuation.
But his hand paused for a moment while adding the wood—very briefly, less than a second.
She wanted to say something, but her eyelids betrayed her first.
Her upper and lower eyelids fought a battle, and the upper ones won.
“You should sleep first,” Kitahara Kaede said.
“I’m not sleepy.”
As soon as she finished speaking, her head tilted uncontrollably. New chapters come out on g.com first.
She sat up abruptly.
“I’m really not sleepy.”
Kitahara Kaede didn’t call her out.
One minute later, her eyelids closed again.
This time she didn’t sit back up.
Her body slowly tipped to the side, like a small tree bent by the wind, falling very slowly.
Kitahara Kaede didn’t move.
When her center of gravity fully shifted, he slightly tilted his body, letting her head rest perfectly on his shoulder.
The movement was very light.
A few strands of her ponytail came loose and rested on his arm.
The firelight cast their overlapping shadows onto the grass behind them.
The wind blew, and the shadows swayed, but their outlines remained connected.
Murakami Takuya sat a few meters away, his sword resting on his lap.
He glanced over, then looked away.
“You take the first watch, I’ll take the second.”
Kitahara Kaede nodded.
It was quiet for a while.
“I set up three tripwires on the north side of the camp—”
“I saw them,” Murakami Takuya interrupted, his tone even.
“Not bad.”
Kitahara Kaede didn’t reply.
Tsunade’s steady breathing came from his shoulder, rhythmic, light, and warm.
The campfire was burning brightly.
Nights like this were actually quite nice.
…
The second half of the night.
Murakami Takuya took over the watch.
Kitahara Kaede gently moved Tsunade’s head from his shoulder onto her rolled-up pack, his movements even more careful than when he set the tripwires.
Tsunade frowned slightly and mumbled something vaguely.
“…Don’t steal my…
candy…”
Kitahara Kaede’s hand paused, the corners of his mouth twitching, though he didn’t actually smile.
He leaned against the tree and closed his eyes, not truly sleeping, keeping his attention on the surroundings.
Early morning.
The birds in the northern woods stopped singing.
There had been intermittent sounds before—chickadees, nightingales—normal background noise for the night.
Now, they were all gone.
It was as if something had wiped the sound out of the woods.
Kitahara Kaede opened his eyes and swept his gaze toward Murakami Takuya.
Murakami Takuya was also looking north.
Their eyes met.
Murakami Takuya nodded slightly.
Kitahara Kaede’s hand reached into his ninja pouch.
A faint mist began to rise on the surface of the stream.
Thirty meters, twenty-five meters, twenty meters—
The sound of grass blades being crushed, very light.
More than one person.
Kitahara Kaede’s right hand exploded into motion, a shuriken flying straight toward the north.
His left foot simultaneously kicked Jiraiya in the back.
“Get up!”
The shuriken struck something, a crisp metallic clatter ringing out.
It was blocked.
Figures rushed out from the light mist.
Dark shadows surged out from three sides simultaneously, the glint of blades carving arcs through the air.
Tsunade sat up abruptly, her pupils constricting.
Kitahara Kaede had already appeared beside her.
Murakami Takuya drew his sword from its scabbard.
“Enemy attack!”