The road west of the black-market outpost was quiet — unnaturally so.
But that wasn't the full truth. Ever since leaving the outpost, we had been shadowed. It was the standard way of things. Everyone knew which bounty we had; they knew our rough destination, and they knew that we were valuable.
So they shadowed us, following from behind, using one method or another to track us. This was standard business. I doubted they were foolish enough to attack; at most, they were gathering information in hopes of selling it.
After all, other, more foolish missing-nin might pay for up-to-date information about my whereabouts so they could try their luck.
Despite knowing this, I didn't do anything to stop them; instead, I just kept a close watch and made sure to feed each team different information. It wasn't much — subtle things, small moves completely missed by Kanna, but that someone skilled enough would pick up.
After all, despite picking up Kanna, I hadn't forgotten about my real mission: to fully infiltrate the underworld. And I figured that tracking who was giving information to whom might be useful.
If anything, it wasn't likely to be harmful.
The truly strong need not fear the weak.
The idea that someone like even Hashirama could die from a simple kunai if careless was ridiculous. Sure, in theory a kunai to the brain would kill him, but could a random Jōnin even hope to do that?
The answer was no. Even while in deep meditation, someone like Kakuzu, an elite Jōnin at his time, had barely survived the backhand he was given by Hashirama purely on reflex.
To the truly strong, the weak meant little.
And from their chakra, these were all weak — little more than Chūnin. But that was to be expected; most missing-nin were only at this level or less.
Those who reached higher levels were often more trusted and loyal, having less reason to go rogue. And if they did, the village put far more effort into finding and eliminating them, since their higher rank usually meant access to more secrets they wouldn't want getting out.
So the scum following us was of no concern. As long as they didn't get too close or in the way, I was fine merely spying on them. After all, information about me getting out might increase my reputation and lead to more missions.
…
This kind of mission wasn't something you did in days, certainly not when I had Kanna and Karin with me. This meant we had to travel at a normal walking pace — and even if chakra did mean even civilians could walk for hours without a break, there were limits.
Our goal for each day was just to reach the next rest station or village. While I could easily pass many of those in a day, some days we barely had the time to rest before nightfall.
Other days we were able to take our sweet time, letting little Karin play in the grass next to the roads as we stopped for breaks.
I might not have mastered Wood Release, but Earth Release was still enough to make seats and tables to enjoy a snack and a cup of tea.
Even when not used for combat, ninjutsu could make life a lot easier. This was likely what Hagoromo hoped to see when he gave away my chakra, but instead, it was used as nothing more than a weapon.
"How is the tea, Kaguya-hime?" Kanna asked softly as she set the cup before me, her hands visibly trembling even though she tried to hide it.
I lifted it with one hand, letting the mild steam brush against my face.
It was simple tea — nothing refined, nothing rare. The leaves were purchased cheaply at a roadside market two days ago.
And yet…
"It is good," I said.
Kanna exhaled with visible relief, shoulders dropping as she carefully sat across from me on the small stone seat I had raised from the ground. Karin sat on the grass beside her, chewing on a wooden spoon she had insisted on keeping since breakfast.
"Thank you," Kanna murmured, clearly pleased.
She was trying her best — desperate to be useful in any way she could. Even something as small as tea mattered to her. That was the life she had come from: where every action could determine whether someone spared you or hurt you.
A sad way to live.
But it would pass, in time.
Karin squealed happily when a butterfly landed on her spoon. Kanna reacted instantly, one hand flying protectively toward her daughter, but I shook my head.
"She is fine."
Kanna hesitated, then nodded.
We remained there for a few minutes, letting the breeze run across the tall grass. Far behind us — out of Karin's hearing range — a pair of chakra signatures lingered at the edge of the road, watching, waiting.
I took another slow sip of tea.
"They are still following us?" Kanna whispered.
"Yes."
"Should… should we be worried?"
"No."
She swallowed nervously. "You really do not fear anyone, do you?"
"Fear? No. Though there are those I respect, due to their strength. But these people? Not even close to that," I explained.
Kanna lowered her head. "Sometimes… I forget how different you are."
"Is that frightening?" I asked.
She hesitated — but she did not lie.
"…Yes," she whispered. "But also safe."
"Indeed. Strength is the only safety there is. The weak gather together in groups for safety and warmth, or crowd around the strong, hoping for mercy."
Cold, but true.
…
Travel became a rhythm.
Mornings spent in towns, villages, or inns eating a warm breakfast.
Midday breaks were spent on the road, finding small campsites along the path where I would make stone or hardened earth into tables and chairs so we could eat and rest, while Karin played around, chasing leaves or just rolling in the grass.
By evening we reached a place to rest — whatever that might be — where I used my slowly dwindling funds to get us a room and some food. A full dinner was a must after a day on the road.
Soon enough, the Land of Fire's forests thinned out.
To get to the Land of Bears, there were multiple roads one could take: one went through the smaller nations such as Grass, Rain, Bridges, Stone, and Mountain Streams, but that was honestly a horrible journey — too many small roads without towns or inns along them.
That meant the other path, going through the Land of Earth, was our best bet; being a major nation, it had better infrastructure for sure. Even if it was also riskier due to Iwa being there.
Though, I had no bounty there, which meant it was unlikely that the old fence-sitter would want to start a fight he didn't need to fight. He wasn't someone who threw lives away for nothing, and surely not so soon after the disastrous losses suffered during the last war.
There was a reason they hated Minato so much, and it wasn't that they were jealous of his hair.
Though to reach the Land of Earth, we did have to pass through either Rain, Grass, or Waterfall. And given Kanna's relationship with the Land of Grass, I decided to go through Waterfall instead.
Mostly because Rain was a hellhole — and wasn't good for my hair at all, too much moisture in the air.
And the Land of Waterfalls was a nice place.
The Land of Waterfalls was green, much like the Land of Fire, though the trees weren't nearly as tall and thick — smaller, casting a soft shade over the ground, while there were plenty of green plains and shimmering lakes.
Mist drifted lazily through the air, catching sunlight in thin sheets of silver. To most travelers, it was beautiful.
To shinobi?
It was full of hiding spots and potential ambush angles.
Still preferable to the stench and paranoia of Rain Country. Or the bitter memories Grass brought Kanna. And with my Byakugan, I could see no hiding enemies nor ambushes, so all in all, a nice place.
Plus, the local shinobi village was a total pushover, yet still strong enough with a tailed beast to keep this place mostly undisturbed from war and peaceful with low crime rates.
Beyond the Land of Fire, this was likely one of the best places to settle down.
We crossed the small stone bridge marking the boundary, passing a carved post with faded paint. Karin babbled at the sight of the river beneath us, slapping her hands excitedly on Kanna's shoulder.
Kanna managed a small smile.
"This place is… peaceful," she whispered.
"It is. Waterfall is a blessed place, at least on the surface. In reality, it's a place always on the brink of disaster due to the weakness of its shinobi village and the treasure it holds," I replied.
She swallowed. On this trip she had learned much about the world of shinobi, a world she knew little about — other than that it could be cruel.
…
The roads were well-kept here, lined with moss-covered stones. Traders passed us with caravans, and hunters carried game slung over their backs. Unlike Fire Country, people here stared openly at us — their curiosity bolder, their fear less immediate.
Kanna tensed whenever someone looked too long.
"They mean nothing," I told her once, as we crossed a busy market town. "People stare at what they do not understand."
She glanced at my blindfold.
"I suppose… you invite stares."
"Yes."
We stopped in that town for supplies. Kanna purchased fresh vegetables with the money I handed her — carefully budgeting, counting each coin twice. She was frugal by nature; she had never had wealth before.
I bought what we actually needed in less than a minute and paid without looking at the price.
Kanna gaped at me.
"That much… for dried fruit? Kaguya-hime!"
"It is only money."
"But—"
"Kanna," I cut in. "We are noble, far more than anyone else, even the Daimyō. If we can't treat ourselves, then what is the point?"
She froze.
She never seemed to know whether such statements reassured her or terrified her.
…
The next few days passed in steady rhythm.
The forests thickened. The air smelled faintly of wet stone and blooming wildflowers. At inns, Kanna fed Karin small bites of cooked rice while I skimmed maps, calculating the most efficient path north toward the Earth Country border.
At night, Kanna stitched my robe with trembling fingers while I checked our rear trail for watchers.
They hadn't given up.
Three separate teams still followed.
Always at a distance.
Always cautious.
I couldn't help but be impressed by their tenacity; few could follow someone for this long, at this pace, without getting bored or impatient. But they showed no sign of that.
In fact, they showed a discipline that didn't fit with rogue shinobi at all.
Which begged the question: just who were they really?
And why were they following us?
(End of chapter)
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