…
The convoy continued moving through the night with lanterns hanging from the wagons, each swaying gently with every rotation of the wheels.
Their orange glow illuminated only a small portion of the road ahead, leaving the surrounding forest submerged beneath layers of darkness.
Nobody complained…well, not anymore. There was no point to it.
The order to continue through the night had erased whatever casual atmosphere remained from earlier in the day.
The civilian drivers spoke only when necessary.
Everyone else remained alert. Even Hideki had stopped trying to start conversations for the most part.
"...I don't like this."
Murakami glanced sideways. Hideki was perched atop the rear wagon, arms folded as he watched the darkness beyond the lantern light.
"That narrows it down considerably." Murakami remarked sarcastically.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
Hideki frowned, but recognized that Murakami wasn't messing with him but needed him to be specific.
"The old guy changed the schedule."
"The Jonin."
"Yeah. Him." Hideki scratched his cheek. "People don't just change plans unless something happened."
Murakami found himself mildly surprised. The observation was neither profound nor particularly insightful.
But it was correct. Something Hideki rarely was.
Indeed, something had happened, the problem was that none of them knew exactly what.
Ahead, Sora adjusted his glasses. "Not necessarily."
Hideki looked at him. "What do you mean not necessarily?"
"It could be precautionary."
Hideki stared at him. "That sounds like something somebody says right before getting ambushed."
Sora sighed and went on about how decisions could be made depending on the team leader's judgment of clues enroute to their destination.
Murakami was again reminded that Sora was a text book genius in his own right and decided to ignore the both of them. He extended his senses once more to cover a hundred meters around them for efficiency.
Nothing.
There was no foreign chakra signatures which meant no immediate threats.
The result was reassuring, unfortunately, it was also exactly what he had expected.
Real shinobi were not incompetent.
If hostile ninja were operating in the area, the enemy territory, they would naturally take measures against detection.
That was especially the case if they were targeting military logistics.
The thought reminded him of something he had once read.
"Wars were often won by logistics long before battles were won by soldiers."
Of course, this was said by numerous military personnel in their own different words but they all came down to the same thing.
Armies without supplies stopped being armies.
They became starving civilians carrying weapons.
And in the case where there were no weapons, they were just a bunch of physically capable civilians.
Which meant these wagons were valuable.
Valuable enough that someone might be willing to kill for them.
…
Hours passed as the convoy continued west.
The crescent moon gradually climbed higher overhead as the forest grew quieter.
Not enough for most people to notice, but enough to be noticed by those who chose to pay attention.
At some point, Sakumo appeared alongside the rear wagon.
The white-haired boy moved silently despite traveling over uneven terrain.
Hideki nearly jumped when he appeared. "Can you not do that?"
"...No."
"Why?"
Sakumo looked at him for a moment, "Because it's funny."
Hideki froze.
Murakami's eyes widened.
Even Sora looked mildly surprised.
For a brief moment Sakumo's expression remained perfectly serious, then the corner of his mouth twitched.
Hideki pointed dramatically.
"You made a joke."
"No."
"You absolutely did."
"No."
"You smiled."
"No."
Murakami looked away, making a note to himself.
Apparently Hatake Sakumo possessed a sense of humor.
The discovery felt strangely significant, like… uncovering a small secret hidden beneath an already impressive reputation.
He was forced to cement the thought in his head that you could never really trust anime and fanfics.
Several minutes later one of the forward scouts appeared.
The Genin landed beside the convoy, spoke briefly with the scarred Jonin, then disappeared again.
The exchange lasted less than ten seconds, yet Murakami noticed something.
The Jonin immediately began increasing the spacing between the wagons.
Not by much, just another three or four meters between each cart.
Murakami had been quite observant since the mission began so he was quick to deduce the reason behind that decision.
In the case of an attack, more spacing reduced the risk of crippling the entire convoy in a single attack.
An explosive tag, a fire technique, a wave of water, a hurricane, a rock slide, boulder, a collapsed tree… anything that struck one wagon would be less likely to affect the others.
Murakami's eyes lingered on the scarred Jonin for a moment in admiration, the man wasn't reacting to danger but was preparing for it.
Murakami filed the observation away as the convoy pressed onward.
If the Jonin knew that he was being evaluated by a twelve year old Genin, he would certainly question his understanding of heirachy and age, thankfully, he remained blissfully unaware.
Midnight came and went and the road gradually narrowed as the terrain changed once again.
Rocky hills began appearing alongside the forest.
The trees themselves seemed denser and older.
Sora moved closer to Murakami, "We're approaching Shirakawa Pass."
Murakami nodded in acknowledgement. He remembered seeing it marked on the route map.
A narrow section where hills squeezed the road from both sides.
Definitely not ideal terrain.
"Wonderful," Hideki muttered.
"No."
Hideki sighed. "I wasn't being literal."
Murakami felt no need to entangle with him as just then, at the front of the convoy, movement suddenly erupted as a scout burst from the treeline fast.
Very fast.
This wasn't the speed of someone returning from a routine patrol.
Every shinobi noticed immediately and perked up as the scout landed directly beside the scarred Jonin.
The conversation that followed lasted only moments.
Murakami couldn't hear the words and he didn't need to as the Jonin's reaction was enough with his expression hardening, then he immediately gave a signal and the convoy stopped.
Complete silence descended on the caravan as the civilians exchanged uneasy glances but nobody spoke.
They were experienced enough to know that now wasn't the time for that. When a Jonin leader made a decision, the best course of action was to comply completely.
The scarred Jonin turned. "Everyone gather."
That alone was enough to tell Murakami the situation had changed.
Shinobi converged immediately.
Within moments all ten stood assembled.
The scarred Jonin looked at them. "We found a campsite."
Nobody reacted as that wasn't a cause of concern. A campsite by itself meant very little.
The Jonin continued. "The campsite had six fire pits. Just recently used."
Now that got everyone's attention.
"Tracks indicate at least fifteen individuals."
Murakami felt the atmosphere tighten.
Fifteen.
Not harmless merchants, travelers or hunters, but a coordinated group.
Operating ahead of the convoy.
At night.
Near a logistics route.
Nobody needed to explain why that was concerning.
One of the vanguard Genin spoke. "You think they're enemy shinobi?"
The Jonin answered immediately. "I don't know."
Which somehow felt worse, because if he knew, then there was certainty.
Certainty could be planned around, uncertainty could not,
The Jonin looked around. "We found evidence they left roughly 4 hours before our scouts arrived."
This meant they set the camp fire for a brief stop before moving. Nobody interrupted as the conclusion was easy to come to.
"We also found evidence they knew how to conceal their movements." The Jonin continued. "From this point onward, assume hostile contact is possible."
The Jonin turned toward the road ahead. "We cross Shirakawa Pass immediately."
One of the civilian drivers swallowed, "Tonight?"
"Tonight." The Jonin nodded.
The driver looked unhappy and he wasn't alone. Nobody liked the idea. Unfortunately, nobody had a better one.
It was better than waiting like sitting ducks till sunrise.
What will come would come.
With that episode over, the convoy began moving once more.
Murakami moved alongside the rear wagon, his senses remained active, but he still kept it at a 100 meter range to avoid straining himself too much.
Although the cost of this was miniscule, there was still a potential ambush waiting ahead.
It was safe to be prepared than sorry.
The darkness beyond the road felt heavier now, not because it had changed but because the context had.
Earlier, the forest had simply been a forest, now it was a place where unknown individuals had recently disappeared.
The difference mattered.
…
Some time later, the road leading to the entrance to Shirakawa Pass gradually emerged.
Steep rocky slopes rose on both sides and the trees thinned.
The terrain became harsher and more restrictive.
Murakami disliked it immediately. He was an Earth style Shinobi, but that meant nothing if he's met with an overwhelming odd against him.
The first wagon entered, then the second, then the third, all while the rocky walls closed in around them and the road narrowed.
As they passed, the convoy slowed noticeably as every shinobi became visibly more alert.
Nobody wanted to fight here.
Which naturally made Murakami expect exactly that.
His experience as an otaku had taught him many things.
One of them was that life possessed a deeply irritating tendency to select the worst possible location for important events and shit would go from 0 to 100 in a blink.
The convoy advanced deeper into the pass.
One hundred meters.
Two hundred.
Three hundred.
And…nothing happened.
There were no attacks, traps or explosions, only silence.
Even Hideki seemed confused, but the tension kept building, minute after minute.
Yet nothing happened.
Then Murakami felt it.
A flicker at the edge of his senses.
It was so tiny a flicker that he barely picked up on it as it disappeared almost immediately.
His head snapped toward the rocky slope above.
There.
For less than a second, he had sensed a chakra signature.
It was weak and well hidden, but it was also moving.
His eyes narrowed, it most definitely wasn't his imagination and neither was it a mistake.
Something or someone had been there watching then it vanished just as quickly as it appeared.
Murakami immediately raised his hand. "Sakumo."
The white-haired boy looked over and Murakami pointed upward.
Sakumo's gaze followed.
For several seconds he saw nothing, then his eyes narrowed too.
Not because he sensed chakra, but because he noticed movement.
A shadow.
And it was gone almost instantly.
The two exchanged a glance, no words were needed. There was a potential ambush awaiting them.
Sakumo slowly raised his hand to the blade hung in his back while three thin needles appeared between Murakami's fingers at some unknown point.
At the front of the convoy, the scarred Jonin suddenly stopped and looked up. Slowly, his hand moved toward his kunai pouch.
The convoy ground to a halt as the Jonin spoke. "Everyone." His eyes remained fixed on the darkness above. "Prepare for contact."
…
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
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