Half a month had passed since Raizen had finally gained precise control over his chakra. The war between the Amamiya Clan and the Ueshi family had quieted in that time. The Ueshi, weakened after the Hyuga clan's defeat, had lost their support and were forced to pause their conflict with the Amamiya.
Both clans had taken heavy losses. Even though each side knew the other's intentions, survival demanded temporary truce: time to heal, train, and rebuild. Neither party relaxed their vigilance, knowing that as soon as one recovered, the war would flare again.
"Half a month of rest is over. Time to get moving," Raizen muttered, stretching his arms. After completing his chakra training, he decided to take on a mission. In this era, small clans survived by accepting paid assignments from merchants and villagers. Large families had estates or industries; the rest relied on contracts to survive.
"Raizen, looking to take a task?" a Chūnin asked, glancing at him curiously in the clan's mission hall.
"I want something moderately challenging," Raizen replied, his tone flat but confident.
"Moderately challenging, huh? I'll find one for you," Kuze said, flipping through the mission scrolls. After scanning a few pages, he stopped. "How about this? An escort mission."
Raizen raised an eyebrow. The task involved protecting a merchant caravan to the nearby city—a C-level assignment, meaning the only threat would be common bandits. Perfect for testing his skills without risking too much.
The Warring States were far from peaceful. Refugees and bandits plagued trade routes, and merchants often paid for ninja escorts to avoid ambushes. Though considered low-risk, even a C-level mission could turn ugly if underestimated.
"The caravan is stopping in Honghua Village. You'd better leave soon if you're ready," Kuze instructed.
"I'm ready," Raizen said, nodding. He returned home, equipped his clay bombs and prepped the Flying Thunder God technique, then set off at a run toward Honghua Village.
Honghua was a small, nameless mountain village in the Fire Country. Caravans made the lifeblood of trade—supplying villages with food, tools, and supplies—but were frequent targets for bandits. This caravan had already lost several guards before the Amamiya clan's proximity gave them a chance for protection.
Upon arriving, Raizen approached the caravan leader, a round-faced man with a kindly expression, and bowed slightly.
"You must be the Lord Ninja escorting us to the city. Good, now we can leave," the leader said. His eyes flicked to Raizen, suspicious of the young boy's age.
Raizen smirked inwardly. "Yeah, I get that a twelve-year-old looks more like a snack than a protector," he thought. But outwardly, he remained calm. The leader, unconcerned by appearances, simply shouted to the other guards, and the caravan set off toward the City of Fire.
The guards themselves looked disdainfully at Raizen, ignoring him completely as they marched beside the caravan. "Snobs," Raizen muttered under his breath, curling his lips in amusement. Age was a limitation here, no doubt, but he didn't need recognition. He silently shadowed the caravan, watching for trouble.
The journey proved uneventful. Only minor thieves attempted to interfere, and the caravan's own escorts dealt with them before Raizen even needed to intervene. Still, it was good practice—a chance to observe real combat conditions without being the center of attention. Raizen's mind, ever calculating, already ran through improvements and contingencies for the next time he might need to step in.
Even mundane missions, he thought, could teach more than he'd expected.