— You didn't specify in your request that you were being pursued by shinobi, — Hyūga began slowly, folding his arms across his chest. — Please explain. The mission's rank threatens to increase to at least B-rank.
The gray, pupil-less eyes made Tazuna tremble. This seemingly quiet guy had killed two mercenaries without the slightest hesitation. It was too dangerous to anger him. Tazuna was about to reveal everything he had previously concealed, but…
— Surely client-san had reasons to withhold information, right? — a cheerful voice sounded. The architect nodded frequently.
Guy approached the genin and the architect, carrying a log. Without looking where he was stepping, he walked right over the body of one of the Mist ninjas.
— Kheh, — came from under his feet.
Guy stared down in surprise.
— My apologies, shinobi-san, — a wide smile lit up his face.
Neji activated his Byakugan, examining the lying body:
— Hm… he's still alive. My mistake. I need to finish him off…
Neji stepped forward confidently.
— Don't, — Mighto frowned, holding out his palm. His smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. — We're ninja, not hired killers. Besides, you already beat one to death, — he looked disapprovingly at the chunin's corpse near the tree. — We need the second one for information.
— We already know who their target was. — Neji's cold gaze, with his activated Byakugan, scanned the architect. Tazuna, seeing the veins bulging around the genin's eyes, broke out in a cold sweat.
— I… I… I'll tell you everything, — Tazuna whispered hoarsely…
***
— I see, — Guy drawled, tossing the log aside.
As it turned out, the mission was not as simple as it seemed at first glance.
The architect had decided to build a bridge that would connect the Land of Waves to the mainland to help restore the country's economic stability, and to improve his own financial situation. However, these actions were not in the interests of a certain Gatō, a shipping magnate, one of the wealthiest people in the elemental countries. This individual had amassed his fortune through underground dealings, particularly drug trafficking and smuggling.
Tazuna knew that Gatō would try to eliminate him, as he would lose his main source of income once the bridge was built. However, Tazuna couldn't afford proper protection due to a lack of funds. That's why the architect sought help from the Sandaime, applying for a standard escort and protection mission against petty bandits. And Team Three ended up with him.
— This is certainly regrettable, — Neji said coldly. He had already deactivated his Byakugan, which caused Tazuna to sigh in relief. — But you will still have to pay for the mission as a B-rank. And that's the best-case scenario.
In Neji's opinion, this mission smelled like a setup from a mile away. There were many inconsistencies that puzzled the genin. For example, if Tazuna was being hunted, why did they decide to eliminate him only now? Why not on the way out of the Land of Waves? Or does Gatō have a poor intelligence network and only recently learned about the bridge construction? It was unclear.
However, that wasn't the main issue right now. It was quite possible that one of the wealthiest people wouldn't skimp on hiring high-ranking mercenaries. In that case, the mission could become A-rank or even S-rank.
— B-but, — the architect stammered, — we can't afford such a sum. The Land of Waves is poor...
— You could have taken out a bank loan, — the genin interrupted the client, — or you can pay for the mission in installments. I'm sure the village administration can make an exception for you. I assume that after the successful construction of the bridge, you will have the funds to pay.
Tazuna wilted. The genin was right, but the man was extremely reluctant to pay extra money. Moreover, he would have to give a rather hefty percentage of the bridge's income to Konoha, or rather, to the Sarutobi clan. They had agreed on this with the Hokage. The old man with the pipe probably knew about the background of this mission in advance. That's why he hinted at a percentage for the Leaf Village's protectorate in the future...
— What are we going to do with the Mist ninja? — Tenten asked, examining the body of the Kirigakure shinobi.
Neji shrugged and looked questioningly at their sensei. Rock Lee, meanwhile, was training by the river, or rather, squatting on one leg with a log on his shoulders, so he wasn't very interested in the conversations about the mission's rank or the enemy shinobi's fate.
— We need to deliver the source of information to Konoha, — Guy began, examining the wounded chunin's body. — But we don't have time. We must complete the mission in a week.
Neji decided to remain silent about his teacher's last outburst. He thought that completing this mission in a week was unrealistic, but arguing with their sensei was pointless.
— He probably doesn't know much, — Hyūga said, — so it's easier to kill him.
Tenten grimaced:
— Maybe we should just leave him here?
The girl wanted to avoid unnecessary killings.
— His own people might come for him, — the genin shook his head, — and find out the details of the encounter with our team from the Mist ninja. We don't know how many mercenaries they sent to eliminate the architect, so it's better to get rid of him.
— I've got an idea! — Guy shouted, striking a good-guy pose. — I know how to solve this problem!
The jonin, still with a wide smile on his face, formed a series of hand seals, then bit his finger and slammed his hand on the ground:
— Summoning Technique!
With a puff of smoke, the outlines of an unknown monster appeared. When the smoke cleared, everyone saw a huge scarlet turtle with a Leaf protector on its neck and an orange bandage on its right paw.
— Why did you call me, Guy? — the summoned beast asked relaxedly, not finding a source of threat. Surely a half-dead chunin wasn't considered a threat?
Guy ignored the summoning animal's question, simply grabbed the Mist ninja by the scruff of the neck and placed him on the ninja-turtle's shell.
— Eh-eh-eh? — Ningame didn't understand.
Mighto ignored the summoning animal's question, just pulled out some ropes from somewhere and began tying the shinobi to the turtle. A couple of minutes later, the chunin was tied to Ningame's shell; the last knot was tied into a bow.
— I'm counting on you! — Guy declared. — Deliver the prisoner to Konoha, to the interrogation department.
Ningame stared at the jonin, who had struck a good-guy pose, in bewilderment.
Tenten's hand met her own face. Neji's hand reached for his face, but he stopped himself in time and only adjusted his forehead protector.
— Hm, sensei, — Neji cleared his throat, — I don't think Ningame is quite suitable for this task.
— Come on, Neji, — Guy folded his arms across his chest, — who else can deliver the prisoner to Konoha? I trust Ningame as much as I trust myself…
— Well… — Tenten, recovering from her momentary confusion, said, — Sensei, I don't doubt your summoning beast's abilities, but…
The girl's gaze lingered on the groaning chunin for a moment.
— Um… I'm afraid he won't make it to Konoha.
— Nonsense, — Guy grinned again, — Ningame, like all of us, has the Power of Youth burning within him! He'll endure. It's only seventy or eighty kilometers!
The turtle swallowed and turned its head to Mighto. At first, Ningame thought Guy was joking, but despite his wide smile, he was serious. A drop of sweat appeared on the turtle's face. Ningame didn't want to carry some punk on his back. Especially for eighty kilometers.
— Sensei, — Neji took the floor, — Tenten isn't talking about the summoning beast, but about the Kirigakure chunin. He won't make it to Konoha due to his injuries. I broke his spine. How fast can your turtle move?
— I wouldn't cover that distance in a week, — Ningame answered for Guy. — Especially with a load.
— Hm… — Mighto pondered deeply.
It was a stalemate. They needed to finish the mission as soon as possible, but they also needed to get information from the Mist shinobi. They couldn't kill the chunin, they couldn't abandon the mission, and there was no point in sending one of the genin to Konoha.
— I've got an idea! — inspiration struck the jonin. — In the name of the Power of Youth, I'll do it! I'll take the Mist spy to Konoha!
Guy bent down to the turtle and lifted it above himself.
— What the hell, Guy? Put me down! — Ningame exclaimed, waving his paws in the air.
— Um, sensei, — Tenten looked at their mentor skeptically, — where did you find the spy?
— He's probably talking about the Kirigakure chunin, — Neji suggested, — sensei, we might be attacked without you. I don't think splitting up is a good idea.
— Don't worry, Neji! — holding the turtle above himself with one hand, Guy gave a thumbs-up with the other. — I'll be back in a flash. You won't even have time to look back!
The jonin's thick eyebrows merged into a single black line. He gripped Ningame's yellow belly with both hands:
— Eight Gates!... Fifth Gate: The Gate of Limit – open!
The jonin's skin turned crimson, and his body began to emit a greenish aura. The pressure of the force, accompanied by sharp gusts of wind, forced the genin and the architect to retreat. The turtle began to curse Mighto, but he only grinned.
— In the name of the Power of Youth! — Guy roared and dashed off towards Konoha.
A crater formed at the jonin's starting point, and those present were showered with chunks of soil and small stones. One of the larger stones hit Tazuna right on the forehead, and the architect fell unconscious.
— Uh… why did he run off with the turtle? — Tenten wondered, following the cloud of dust with a thoughtful gaze. Neither the genin nor the kunoichi paid the slightest attention to the fallen architect. — He only needs to deliver the Mist ninja, right?
— Well, — Neji pondered, dusting off his clothes, — it's Guy-sensei. Maybe it's some kind of training, — Hyūga suggested.
— For the turtle? — Tenten chuckled.
Neji snorted:
— For the Mist ninja. Personally, I think it would have been more humane to finish him off…
***
— Tell me, buddy, doesn't it bother you to work in the archives or stand at the gates, like now? It's so… — a shaggy shinobi with a white bandage on his face and a mark on his chin tried to express his thought, but was interrupted by his coworker.
— No, Kotetsu. There's a duty, and we, as village shinobi, are obliged to fulfill it, — Izumo said, taking a swig from his flask. — And this job has its advantages.
— Come on, — Kotetsu adjusted the light bandage on his face and looked skeptically at his friend. — What are the advantages of being a gatekeeper? You don't even let me nap.
Izumo pondered for a moment, glancing at the open Konoha Gates, and waved his hand with the flask vaguely, almost spilling the contents.
— Maybe, — Kotetsu sighed languidly, — the advantage is that I'm always around, — the shinobi pursed his lips and jokingly tried to kiss his friend.
Izumo snorted and plugged the chunin with the flask, like a baby with a pacifier. He latched onto the container, but after a while, having finished the contents, he began to listen to something.
— What's up? — the shinobi asked, seeing his friend tense up.
— Shh! Quiet, — Kotetsu hissed, handing back the flask. — Do you hear that?
Izumo scratched the back of his head. At first, he thought he was imagining things, but with each passing moment, the noise got closer.
— Hm. I hear it. What is it?
— I don't know, — Kotetsu shook his head, pulling a mace from a fūin scroll that appeared on the ground. — But we better be on guard.
Izumo nodded and prepared to form hand seals for a water technique. Although there were enough patrols and ANBU posts around Konoha, you never know. Maybe someone slipped through unnoticed. Better to be safe than sorry. And also be ready to raise the alarm.
After a few breaths, when the chunin's nerves were stretched to the limit, they heard someone's loud cursing, and then a green blur landed heavily in front of them.
— In the name of the Power of Youth! — something red-skinned roared, radiating a green aura. — I've delivered the spy to Konoha! Receive!
The green monster threw a turtle with a shinobi tied to it onto the ground. The turtle itself, judging by all appearances, was not particularly happy about such treatment, and its cursing became audible throughout the Konoha vicinity.
Then the green thing flashed a smile, gave the gatekeepers a thumbs-up, and disappeared in a cloud of dust.
— What was that? — Kotetsu asked, looking from his friend to the turtle.
— Well, — Izumo scratched the back of his head, — apparently, Guy. His summoning beast, — the chunin explained, pointing at the turtle.
Kotetsu shook his head, putting the mace with a spiked shell-shaped head behind his back. Izumo also visibly relaxed and smiled.
— Hello… bleh… — Ningame responded. He barely suppressed the urge to vomit. After all, not everyone can withstand the "Youth Attraction" named Mighto Guy. The shinobi from the Hidden Mist, for example, was lucky. He simply lost consciousness.
Ningame's red face acquired a noticeable bluish tint after the jonin's run. The turtle was swaying from side to side. It was quite seasick:
— Take this… this thing off me. It's heavy!..
The chunin quickly began to untie the masked shinobi with the Kirigakure protector.
— Damn Guy, — Ningame grumbled, — hurry up, I'm gonna puke!..
***
— Hurry up, Saitama! — Anko looked sternly at her student, — read aloud what you wrote.
Saitama shook his head once again. Anko rolled her eyes:
— What are you acting like, like a maiden before her first kiss?
— Anko, the last time I read aloud was in elementary school.
— Come on, come on, — Mitarashi insisted. — Don't shirk your studies.
The bald shinobi looked dejected. The last time he felt this bad was after the battle with Asura Kabuto, when he mixed up Friday with Saturday and almost missed the supermarket discounts.
Saitama sighed heavily and began to reread what he had written in a quiet, monotonous voice…
Today, he had been writing down lecture notes for the kunoichi for several hours, but he was doing it on autopilot. The hero's consciousness periodically switched off. Mitarashi gave him preventive whacks with a thick geography textbook when she noticed Saitama sleeping and his hand starting to write on the table instead of the paper. True, the bald man's reaction to the whacks was barely noticeable: he would only yawn and lazily stretch in his chair.
— Loudly and expressively, — Anko said in an instructive tone, — you need to think about what you're reading.
— Yeah, — Saitama looked out the window with a resigned expression.
The sunset was glowing with a pinkish haze behind the rooftops and treetops. It was long past dinner time, and Saitama was still sitting and suffering with disciplines that were useless to him.
The bald hero's stomach growled demandingly, to which Anko only snorted.
"Knock knock knock"
There was a loud knock on the front door.
— Are you expecting someone? — Mitarashi inquired.
— Um… — Saitama scratched his bald head. — I don't think so...
— All right, sit tight, I'll open it, — Anko frowned. Late visits usually don't bode well. Especially since neither she nor Saitama were expecting anyone.
The kunoichi, opening the door, squinted at the ANBU shinobi standing on the porch.
— Mitarashi Anko, — the masked man began, — the Hokage summons you.
— Who's there? — Saitama asked lazily, peeking out from around the corner.
The guy was already chewing something. In his hand was a cup with the inscription "Oppai" and a picture of two semicircles. He had cut out the picture and the inscription himself and painted them a couple of days ago.
— Relax for now, — Anko waved her hand, — I'm going to the Hokage. I'll be back soon…
— Ahem, — the ANBU shinobi cleared his throat, interrupting the kunoichi, — actually, Hokage-sama wanted to see Saitama-san too. He's waiting for both of you.
— Did something happen? — Mitarashi asked.
— I don't know, — the shinobi spread his hands.
— Let's go, Saitama, — Anko said, stepping over the threshold.
— Can I finish eating?
Anko rolled her eyes, then began to wearily massage her temples.
— All right, all right, — Saitama said, sipping juice from his cup, — I'll take a sandwich with me…
***
Gatō was indignant. He thought that eliminating the architect was a piece of cake, especially with his wealth and influence. However, Gatō realized too late. If he had paid attention to Tazuna earlier, his business would not be under threat now.
At first, when the shipping magnate learned that someone was building a bridge between the Land of Waves and the mainland, he just laughed. After all, such construction required people and money, and a lot of money at that. And what kind of madman would dare to ruin his business: both legal and underground.
But time went on, and the construction continued. Gatō sent his people to intimidate the workers; started racketeering, even killed workers, staging accidents. But at some point, he realized that he needed to eliminate the instigator of this event. And he hired professional mercenaries specializing in assassinations, namely, a group of rogue ninja from the Hidden Mist led by a certain Zabuza. However, the target was already outside the Land of Waves.
— You didn't complete the mission? — Gatō spat. — You said you were first-class mercenaries? What am I paying you for?
— Stop whining, — Zabuza took a huge cleaver from his lap and pointed it right at the employer's face. — This time, I'll take care of it myself. My blade will be the last thing he sees.
The mafioso, looking at the sword, swallowed and began to sweat profusely. He glanced at his bodyguard. But he, despite his considerable size and outstanding musculature, was trembling like a small animal before a large predator. The bandaged shinobi seemed to exude a murderous aura.
— Are you sure? — Gatō pulled himself together. — He hired strong ninja for protection. Even the demon brothers couldn't defeat them: one was found dead, and the other's body was never found. To eliminate the target and the guards, you need someone with outstanding abilities…
— And who do you think you're talking to? I'm the Demon of the Hidden Mist, Momochi Zabuza. And I will kill them…
The desire to kill enveloped the room, even the three chunin leaning nearby visibly tensed up.
— A-all right, I'll leave it to you, — Gatō tried to make his voice not tremble, but he didn't succeed very well. — Let's go! — he threw at the bodyguard and quickly hurried out the door…
***
— These shinobi piss me off, — the mafioso hissed quietly, surrounded by five burly guards. — No respect for employers...
He had already left Zabuza's hut and was in a frankly bad mood. Usually, he was feared, he was respected, and this mercenary dared to poke his cleaver right in his face. And even said: "Stop whining"...
The gloomy surroundings also didn't add to the pleasant impressions of the meeting: a dark forest, fog, and the shinobi's hut and its surroundings were illuminated by a mystical pinkish-purple light in the rays of the setting sun.
Casting disapproving glances at the house over his shoulder, he muttered:
— I usually conduct fair deals. But you, bastard, won't get any ryō…
— Good evening, Mr. Gatō, — a calm young voice said.
The guards immediately bristled with weapons, shielding their boss from possible danger.
— Don't worry. I won't harm you.
A young man of about seventeen years old stepped out of the shadow of a tree. He was dressed in a black cloak with scarlet clouds and a high collar. A protector on his forehead revealed him to be a shinobi.
— Who are you? — Gatō tensed. The mafioso was not sure that the young ninja came with peaceful intentions.
— I'm here to offer you cooperation, — the shinobi ignored the question. — Our organization has been hired to eliminate a target. And according to the latest information, this target is very likely to arrive in the Land of Waves.
— And what does that have to do with me? — the mafioso grimaced. — Eliminate them for all I care. What do I care?
The young man's face was absolutely impenetrable. As if he hadn't heard the man's question, he continued:
— You want Zabuza to remove the architect, but he doesn't stand a chance against the team that Tazuna hired.
— How do you…
— We know a lot, — the shinobi continued, — but that's not the point.
Gatō stared expectantly at the stranger. The sun had finally disappeared from view, plunging the forest into darkness. The light from the stars and the young moon barely penetrated through the foliage of the trees. The creaking of branches in the wind, the hooting of owls, and other sounds did not add to the man's courage. He was the first to break the silence:
— Get to the point. What do you need?
The stranger smirked at the corner of his lip, but it was not visible in the dark.
— We need your money.
Gatō felt sick at what he heard. He had a very rough idea of the shinobi's abilities, but even he understood that five guards were not enough to eliminate one ninja.
— Get him! — Gatō shouted, and he himself ran back to Zabuza's hut; fortunately, they hadn't gone too far. Maybe the shinobi from the Hidden Mist could stop the stranger.
The guards – all dressed in black suits and ties – rushed to attack the motionless standing guy. The shinobi's eyes flashed red, and he looked around at the men.
The guards froze for a moment, then rushed to attack each other. They used fists, clubs, and even knives. Here, the first guard fell with a cut throat. Here, another received a club to the temple. The third and fourth rolled on the ground, trying to strangle each other. The fifth rushed at the fourth with a noose…
Gatō looked back to see how much time he had, but with a fleeting glance, he noted that all his guards were out of action. The guy himself had disappeared.
— Damn it! — he hissed. — Zabuza! Zabuza, save…
Gatō tripped over a snag. His glasses flew off. He tried to get up quickly, but raising his head, he realized: this was the end. He felt cold inside.
The stranger towered over him like a rock. His eyes burned with bright red light. Gatō thought for a moment that commas were spinning in the scarlet irises.
— D-demon… — Gatō whispered. He felt a warm puddle spreading under him. — H-have mercy...
The demon squatted down and began to speak in an emotionless voice:
— Let's consider this a test of my professional suitability, — the light in his eyes went out, and the guy examined the five bodies in the clearing. — I said I wouldn't harm you. Perhaps you misunderstood me. We need money, but we're not going to kill you. We're an honest organization. We just wanted to offer you protection and help in eliminating your competitor… for a fee.
Gatō burst into tears like a child. Tears mixed with snot streamed down his fat face. These were tears of relief.
The guy sitting over him did not react to the sniveling magnate. He seemed to be lost in thought. After a couple of minutes, Gatō came to his senses and, getting to his feet, wiped his snot with his jacket sleeve.
— So, are you ready to cooperate? — the shinobi asked, straightening to his full height.
— Ready. What are your terms?..