The morning sun slanted through the wide windows of the Hokage’s administrative building, painting the polished floors in pale gold.

Ryusei stood in line with Kanae and Renjiro behind their sensei, Okabe, waiting for the next mission assignment.

The hall was quiet except for the shuffle of paper and the low murmur of shinobi coming and going.

Ryusei folded his arms, his slit-eyed expression calm as always, but his senses were stretched outward.

He could feel Kanae’s steady chakra flow beside him, cold and contained as usual, and Renjiro’s faint buzz of anticipation ahead of him, like a boy itching for a fight even though they weren’t here for one.

When their turn came, the mission desk officer glanced over the scrolls at hand and cleared his throat.

The clerk tapped one mission scroll twice on the counter before handing it over. “Team Okabe. C-rank mission. Escort assignment. Client: Hirotada, a merchant currently based in Tsukimori Town, three days east of here. You’ll rendezvous with him and escort his caravan to the Land of Fire’s capital.”

Okabe broke the seal, read, and closed it again with a quick snap. “Tsukimori Town, then the Capital. Understood.”

He passed the scroll toward Ryusei, letting him glimpse the neat lines: simple phrases like “ensure safe passage of goods,” “route to capital,” “merchant requires punctuality.”

Kanae looked over once, then lowered her gaze without a word. Renjiro muttered, “Three days just to pick him up… must be some shipment.”

“Don’t complain,” Okabe replied, calm but firm. “If a merchant can afford Konoha shinobi of a C-rank for a run to the Capital, it’s worth more than your life.”

The clerk added, “The client insists on departure from Tsukimori no later than the twelfth of the month. That means you leave today if you want to keep his trust.”

Okabe tucked the scroll under his vest. “We leave in an hour. Pack for at least ten days. Meet at the west gate.”

Ryusei narrowed his eyes slightly, the same unreadable smile on his lips. “So this is how real money makes its way to the Capital… no doubt wrapped in silk and guarded under the guise of shinobi duty.”

Renjiro smirked at him. “What, afraid of a road trip? You’ll live.”

Kanae said nothing, but her pale eyes lingered on Ryusei for a breath longer than usual, then shifted back to the floor.

The group broke away from the mission desk, footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as they moved down the corridor.

Okabe walked ahead, hands folded behind his back. “Remember, this isn’t just a matter of guarding crates. Merchants like Hirotada only spend this much on shinobi when the delivery itself matters more than their own skin. Keep your eyes sharp.”

Renjiro stretched his arms, clearly itching for movement. “Finally, something outside the village. A trip to the Capital—maybe I’ll even get to fight along the way.”

“Pray you don’t,” Okabe said dryly. “If you’re fighting, it means the mission’s already gone wrong.”

Kanae adjusted the strap of her pack. Her voice was flat, almost cold. “What matters is reaching Tsukimori Town before the twelfth. If we fail to make the rendezvous, the mission’s already over.”

Ryusei listened, half-present. His expression stayed the same, narrow-eyed and calm, but his thoughts were already circling elsewhere.

‘Some kind of a bribe, for a big figure in the capital, disguised as trade goods or investment, and carried under our protection. And I’m the one meant to play escort dog. Hilarious.’

At the west gate, the four of them regrouped. Soldiers of the guard gave brief nods as Okabe flashed the mission scroll.

The heavy wooden doors creaked open, revealing the dirt road stretching out into the forests.

They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds being the crunch of gravel beneath their sandals and the distant chatter of merchants entering the village.

Renjiro finally broke the quiet. “Tsukimori’s not that far, three days if we push. Two, if we really push.” He grinned. “Bet we make it in two.”

“You’ll burn yourself out before the client even loads the wagons,” Kanae replied sharply without even looking at him.

Ryusei glanced at her, a trace of amusement in his eyes. “She’s right, you know. You’re more useful with stamina than bravado.”

Renjiro scowled but didn’t answer.

Okabe let the small clash settle before speaking again. “We keep pace. Steady, not rushed.”

This mission felt like one of the typical C-ranks they had been assigned over the three months since graduating.

The kind of work fresh genin always cut their teeth on: clearing out bandits from half-abandoned farm roads, guarding merchants, chasing away wolves that stalked livestock, or escorting small shipments of tools and grain to border villages. Nothing glorious, but it paid their dues.

That was why Ryusei wasn’t too concerned now. At least, not at first glance. What caught his attention wasn’t how large the caravan was, but how small.

He noticed it immediately. A caravan of this size couldn’t possibly justify a C-rank escort unless what it carried was worth far more than it looked. Gold, maybe. Or something rarer, more valuable.

***

They eventually reached the meeting point right on time, where the caravan was waiting on the outskirts of a small trade town.

The merchant stood at the head, flanked by half a dozen bodyguards with spears and short swords. He was a stout man in his forties, broad-shouldered, with the look of someone long accustomed to bargaining, shouting, and surviving on the roads.

His eyes swept over Ryusei’s team as they approached, lingering on their younger faces longer than necessary.

His brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Genin?” he said, his tone carrying both disbelief and irritation.

“For a mission of this importance? I’ve traded across three nations, and I know the difference between a child and a proper shinobi. This—” he gestured at them with a stiff wave of his hand “—feels like an insult. Surely this must be a mistake.”

Ryusei kept his expression unreadable, while Renjiro narrowed his eyes slightly, offended but silent. Kanae didn’t even react, standing with her arms folded, cool and indifferent.

Okabe, as calm as ever, stepped forward and gave the merchant a small, courteous smile. His voice was smooth but steady.

“You should know how tense things have become around the world lately. Trade routes are fragile, villages are on edge, and men like you notice these things first. Don’t let appearances mislead you. These three may be called genin, but in truth, they stand on the level of chunin, stronger than most who hold that rank.”

The merchant’s frown deepened, but his eyes flicked between the three of them with a shade of doubt.

Okabe continued, voice still measured but firmer now. “Renjiro Hatake and Kanae Hyūga, you should be familiar with their surnames, second and third in the most recent Academy graduation, right behind only one Uchiha genius. Both have proved themselves beyond their years. Ryusei Nishida,” he added with a pause, “has his own strengths, and I vouch for him personally.”

Ryusei caught that detail. He didn’t miss how Okabe quietly glossed over his official standing, ranked in the middle of his class, always purposefully back there, but let it slide.

The merchant studied them again, then sighed through his nose. His irritation cooled into something more thoughtful, even calculating.

‘…If that’s true, then perhaps this isn’t so bad.’ His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something sharp passing through them.

‘After all, this mission is… delicate. The fewer questions asked, the better. They are young, so they shouldn’t guess much. But this jonin looks very cunning, and they also have a so-called Byakugan on their team… But there is no going back now, I can’t risk filing to Konoha again…’

Ryusei noticed that, and so did Kanae.

The merchant waved his hand dismissively and began giving orders to his men to prepare for departure.

Then he turned back to Okabe and the team. His tone softened, but there was still a trace of unease.

“I suppose I should explain. I have big business ahead, business that requires absolute reliability, and it involves sensitive cargo. Forgive me if I seem picky or nervous, but my livelihood is tied to this shipment. I expect vigilance.”

Okabe inclined his head. “You’ll have it.”

With the formalities settled, the group set off. The caravan itself was smaller than expected, just two wagons, three horses, and the six hired bodyguards, nothing like the long merchant trains that usually needed protection.

Ryusei had already noticed it earlier, but now, walking beside the caravan, the fact gnawed at him. A C-rank escort for a caravan this small only made sense if what they carried was worth many times its visible size.

Soon, the four shinobi broke away to do their job properly.

They ran ahead of the wagons, scouting further up the road, then looped back along the flanks to check for danger, periodically separating before regrouping again.

It was standard practice, but each of them remained more cautious than usual.

Midway through one of these rotations, Kanae suddenly stopped under a permission from Okabe, breaking the confidentiality agreement, and her pale eyes sharpened. Her Byakugan bloomed open with a faint pulse of chakra.

She peered through the wooden crates covered by thick canvas, tracing the outlines of the stacked cargo.

“Gold,” she said flatly after a moment. “All of it.”

Renjiro raised an eyebrow, surprised. Ryusei only smirked faintly.

Kanae kept her gaze fixed on the crates, narrowing her focus. “I can’t judge the weight precisely. The Byakugan isn’t a scale. But there’s far more here than we’ve ever escorted before, five, maybe ten times more than any mission in the past.”

Her voice carried no emotion, but her words were sharp enough.

Okabe frowned, his brows knitting together for the first time since the mission began. He was silent for a moment, calculating.

Judging by his experience, a shipment like this could mean many things, none of them simple. It wasn’t entirely a bad sign, but it was far from a good one either.

Finally, he exhaled and gave his order. “Stay vigilant. Extra careful. If this really is what it seems, we can’t afford to be careless, not even for a second.”

Kanae nodded silently. Renjiro cracked his neck with a faint grin, clearly eager rather than worried. Ryusei only chuckled inwardly.

A mission that was supposed to be routine had already turned into something else entirely.

The one who requested this mission probably hadn’t expected a Hyūga with Byakugan to be on their four-man team. He was really unlucky.

That much was clear from how the ordinary guards reacted, bristling and stepping in whenever Kanae got too close to the wagons, making sure no one inspected the cargo.

Officially, a client didn’t have to declare exactly what they were transporting, but they were expected to hint at the nature of it, especially if it was valuable enough to warrant shinobi protection. It’s about the danger level and rank of the mission. Konoha doesn’t mess around with stuff like that. This merchant had done that much, dropping vague mentions of expensive goods. But he hadn’t come close to admitting they were moving this much gold.

‘It isn’t about the pay…’, Ryusei thought.

‘He doesn’t look like he couldn’t have afforded the higher fee for a more sensitive mission rank with that much wealth anyway. More likely, he wanted to keep Konoha out of the loop, to avoid the trouble that would come with the wrong people learning what he was moving. But why? What is his true identity, and who does he work with?’

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep