I silently sized up the two ninja assigned to escort me to Sunagakure.
One of them had a senbon hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth. A blue headscarf framed his face, the fabric fluttering slightly whenever the wind passed. He stood with a relaxed posture, one shoulder lowered, looking as if he had come for a walk rather than an escort mission across half the country.
The other man stood quietly beside him.
His brown hair was pushed up slightly by his forehead protector, and an old scar ran across the right side of his face, stretching from his cheekbone toward the bridge of his nose. Unlike his companion, he didn't look talkative. He simply stood there, calm and steady, giving off the impression of someone who preferred action over unnecessary words.
I recognized the first one.
Shiranui Genma.
In the anime, he first appeared as the referee during the Chunin Exams. The senbon in his mouth was practically his signature.
As for the other ninja…
I searched my memory.
Before I could figure it out, Genma spoke first.
"Shiranui Genma."
He lifted his chin slightly, the senbon still resting between his lips, his tone casual.
"This is Raidō Namiashi. We're the jonin in charge of your escort mission."
Raidō Namiashi nodded at me.
The movement was small, but it counted as a greeting.
Two jonin.
I immediately recalculated the cost of this book signing in my head.
From Konoha to Sunagakure, the route was long and required crossing desert, but there was no active war along the way. It wasn't supposed to pass through any especially dangerous zones either.
In the anime, Team 7's mission to escort Tazuna to the Land of Waves had only been ranked C-rank at first, with one jonin and three genin assigned.
Meanwhile, my escort had been upgraded straight to two jonin.
Exactly how many books had I sold?
How terrified was the publishing company that I might collapse and die somewhere on the road?
Still, no matter how much I silently complained, the mission had already begun.
On the third day after leaving Konoha, my stamina officially collapsed.
For the first three days, I had barely managed to keep up with their pace.
Barely.
By the fourth day, my legs no longer felt like part of my body.
Every step was a negotiation with death. My shoulders ached from carrying supplies. My throat was dry. The sun overhead seemed determined to roast me alive before Sunagakure's desert even truly began.
Genma occasionally stopped ahead to wait for me.
Every time, he would stand there with that senbon in his mouth, watching me lean against a tree trunk and gasp for breath. His expression made it look less like he was monitoring a client and more like he was admiring scenery.
I was exhausted to the point of death when I finally asked, "Mr. Shiranui… how much longer until we reach Sunagakure?"
"For ninja, traveling normally with rest, we can reach the Hidden Sand Village in about three days."
He shifted the senbon slightly.
Then the corner of his mouth lifted.
"With the Writer Miss, six days at the fastest."
Got it.
He was calling me weak.
I had no energy to argue.
So I pretended not to understand.
Genma clearly didn't care whether I responded. Instead, he leaned a little closer, his tone carrying a leisurely curiosity that immediately put me on guard.
"Come to think of it, I don't usually read novels."
"That's nice," I said weakly.
"But Writer Miss seems very famous."
"…How so?"
I couldn't even be bothered to raise my head.
"Kakashi Hatake. You know him, right?"
My breathing stopped for half a second.
"The Copy Ninja."
When Genma said that, his gaze lingered on my face as if he were observing some interesting reaction.
"This mission was originally accepted by him."
My heart almost jumped out of my throat.
"But later, the village assigned him a higher-level mission, so he had to leave."
Genma's smile deepened slightly.
"He looked unusually disappointed. I heard he's your loyal reader."
Kakashi didn't come.
Thank goodness.
I clasped my hands together in my heart and offered a silent prayer of gratitude to every god I could think of.
On the outside, however, I kept my expression calm.
"I see."
Genma clearly had no intention of letting the topic die.
"The Writer Miss is truly mysterious."
He looked me over again.
"After traveling for so many days, even when you're so tired you can barely lift your hand to drink water, you've never once taken off the mask on your face."
The senbon shifted at his lips.
"Isn't it hot?"
I was already too tired to think.
Too tired to perform.
Too tired to properly deal with this curious cat of a man.
I raised one hand, intending to give some vague answer, but before I could speak, the person who had remained silent beside us finally opened his mouth.
"Genma."
Raidō's voice was not loud.
His tone was flat, like a stone dropping gently onto still water.
Genma turned his head toward him.
Raidō didn't change his posture.
He only tilted his face slightly, making the scar on his cheek appear even clearer beneath the harsh midday light.
"Let her rest."
Then he added, "Go check if there's water ahead."
Genma raised an eyebrow.
For a moment, the senbon stopped moving at the corner of his mouth.
He glanced at Raidō.
Then looked down at me, where I had nearly melted into a puddle against the tree roots.
Finally, he shrugged.
"Fine. I'll go find water."
After he left, I leaned against the tree trunk and used my remaining strength to nod at Raidō.
"Thank you."
Raidō didn't answer.
He simply stood a few steps away, silently scanning the surrounding terrain. He didn't stare at me. He didn't ask questions. He didn't try to make conversation.
He just kept watch.
Quietly.
Steadily.
Honestly, at that moment, Raidō Namiashi was the most reliable person in the world.
For the rest of the journey, I learned my lesson.
Whenever Shiranui Genma took half a step toward me, I moved half an inch closer to Raidō.
This strategy was surprisingly effective.
Raidō's silent presence suppressed Genma's endless desire to communicate.
Unfortunately, Raidō couldn't protect me every single time.
On one particular afternoon, when I was leaning against a tree trunk for the seventh time and panting like a fish thrown onto dry land, Raidō had gone ahead to scout the path.
That left only me and the curious big cat with a senbon in his mouth.
Genma stood beside me and looked down.
His gaze moved from my face to my trembling legs, then back again.
It didn't feel like he was evaluating the physical condition of a mission client.
It felt more like he was looking at a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest.
"Writer Miss."
His tone carried the helplessness of someone who believed he had already given me plenty of dignity.
"At this speed, forget six days."
He paused.
"We won't arrive in ten."
"…I can walk."
"You almost fell into a cactus after three steps just now."
I had no answer.
Because that had indeed happened.
Genma squatted down in front of me, turning his back toward me.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
"Get on."
I stared at his back for several seconds.
Reason told me to refuse.
Dignity told me to maintain proper distance.
My trembling legs had already chosen surrender.
I leaned forward and hung onto him like a sack of potatoes.
His back was much sturdier than I expected. His shoulders easily supported my weight, and the curve of his shoulder blades happened to catch my chin. His clothes carried a faint scent of tobacco mixed with dry desert air.
When he stood up, he deliberately bounced me once.
The amusement in his voice was impossible to hide.
"So light. Does Writer Miss usually not eat?"
"If I didn't eat, I would've starved to death already. How else would I have the energy to chat with you here?"
I had reached my limit.
My polite persona had died somewhere between the third rest stop and the cactus.
"That won't do," Genma said lazily. "If a famous writer starves to death during my mission, my colleagues will be sad."
"You mean your mission record will be sad."
"That too."
He carried me forward with a pace so steady it made me feel even more defeated. For him, carrying a living person seemed no harder than carrying a scarf.
A while later, Raidō returned from scouting ahead.
From a distance, he saw the scene.
His footsteps paused.
His face remained expressionless, but the scar on his cheek seemed to shift slightly beneath the sunset.
Probably because he was holding back whatever he wanted to say.
Genma smiled at him.
Raidō looked away and continued leading the path.
The two of them were clearly used to each other.
For a short while, there was silence.
Then I felt Genma take a breath.
I knew it.
This cat couldn't stay quiet for long.
"Writer Miss."
His voice came from his chest, carrying a muffled resonance through his back.
"Have you ever thought that Kakashi might be sighing at a mission briefing right now?"
"…Why would he be sighing?"
I was the one who wanted to sigh.
"Sighing about why he had to be assigned elsewhere at a time like this."
Genma sounded completely entertained by his own imagination.
"After all, a mission escorting a writer he likes doesn't come around every year."
"What do you mean, likes…"
"Writer Miss—"
I closed my eyes and interrupted him in one breath.
"Don't know him. Not close. Never met him. Don't understand. Not clear."
Then I buried my face into his back and decided to play dead.
Genma heard my resigned answer and chuckled.
He didn't mind at all.
If anything, he seemed even more amused.
"Come to think of it, what exactly did you write to make someone like Kakashi become your loyal reader?"
His tone turned thoughtful.
"That guy usually only reads Icha Icha Paradise."
I froze.
He continued, completely unaware of the emotional damage he was causing.
"When we reach Sunagakure, I'll buy a copy to support Writer Miss."
"Mr. Shiranui."
"Hm?"
"Could you put me down?"
I lifted my head slightly.
"I suddenly feel like I can walk."
Genma laughed under his breath.
"Don't push yourself. I was joking."
Then he paused, adjusted his grip, and carried me a little higher.
His steps remained steady.
The desert wind blew past us, dry and warm, carrying sand across the fading light.
Ahead, Raidō walked silently.
Behind us, the long road from Konoha had already disappeared into the horizon.
And I, a perfectly ordinary civilian writer with no chakra, no stamina, and an increasingly suspicious escort ninja, could only close my eyes and pray that Sunagakure arrived before Shiranui Genma's curiosity finally killed me.
Unfortunately, judging from the smile in his voice, the curious cat had only just begun sharpening his claws.