Matsumoto, the owner of the herbal medicine shop, came looking for him, leaning on his cane and clutching a crumpled job request. His gap-toothed grin was especially ingratiating. "Young man, I've got a job that's a little more difficult."
Takuma took the request, somewhat speechless. So people could hand out private jobs without going through the Hokage Office after all. It showed a dark red vine, labeled "Red Blood Vine." The collection site was a cliff area deep in the mountains behind Konoha, more than twice as far away as the place where he'd gathered Moonlight Grass before.
"Red Blood Vine only grows in the cracks on the shaded side of cliff faces. It's not easy to collect, and its roots are medicinal too, so the more intact they are, the better." Matsumoto rubbed his hands together. "I wouldn't trust an ordinary Genin with this, but you'll be fine. Five thousand ryo. How does that sound?"
"Six thousand."
"Five thousand five hundred, plus a pork hot pot dinner."
"Deal."
The deeper Takuma went into the mountains behind Konoha, the quieter it became.
At first, he could still hear birds and insects, and squirrels darting among the branches. But later, even the squirrels disappeared, leaving only the rustling of wind through the treetops. As he walked, Takuma carved marks into tree trunks with his kunai while silently reviewing the Water Release Hand Seals his father had taught him.
After rounding a giant tree felled by lightning, the cliff came into view in the distance.
It was at least forty meters tall. All kinds of vines crawled over its gray-white surface, their shades of green tangled together so thoroughly that it was impossible to tell which ones were Red Blood Vine. Below the cliff lay a dried-up riverbed strewn with gravel that crunched beneath his feet. Takuma searched overhead for a long while before finally spotting a few dark red vines in a recessed crack in the rock. Their color resembled rusted metal, and they clung to the shaded side, nearly impossible to notice unless you looked closely.
He tightened his ninja tool pouch, flexed his fingers, and began climbing.
The first ten meters went smoothly. The rock face was rough, with plenty of places to grip with his hands and feet. Around fifteen meters up, the surface grew smooth, and the protrusions he could use for support became fewer and farther between. Takuma drove his kunai into cracks in the rock for footholds and inched upward. When he reached twenty meters, the rock in his left hand suddenly came loose, and his whole body dropped sharply. His right-hand kunai caught firmly in a crack, leaving him dangling in midair. He swung twice as gravel showered down from his feet and struck the riverbed with a clear, ringing clatter.
Once he'd steadied himself, he continued climbing, more cautiously than before. He tested each foothold three times before daring to shift his weight. It took him nearly twenty minutes to reach the Red Blood Vine. He found a relatively flat place to stand, pressed his back against the rock face, and freed both hands to start digging with his trowel.
The Red Blood Vine's roots were far more extensive than he'd expected. They plunged deep into the cracks in the rock, clutching the stone like an animal's claws. He dug for nearly ten minutes. Sweat dripped from his forehead down the bridge of his nose, and his clothes rasped against the rock behind him.
"Is this thing an octopus or something?" Takuma cursed as he dug. At last, the final main root came loose. He pulled up the entire Red Blood Vine, roots and all. It was as long as his forearm, and its root system was intact.
He carefully coiled the Red Blood Vine and tucked it into his herb basket, then began climbing down.
He hadn't gone even five meters when he stopped.
It wasn't that he'd heard something. It was that he hadn't heard anything. The birdsong had stopped. Then, a flock of birds burst from the distant treetops, flapping wildly as they shot into the sky. Three figures darted out of the dense woods and landed on the dry riverbed.
Takuma pressed himself against the cliff face, not daring to move.
There were three of them, all dressed in tight-fitting dark gray clothes and wearing no forehead protectors. One was a middle-aged man carrying a long sword, with an old scar running from his brow to his jaw on the left side of his face. Another was a tall, thin man with pouches of shuriken all over his waist. The third was a short man with bandages wrapped around both hands, unfolding a simple map.
They weren't Konoha shinobi. They didn't look like ordinary wandering samurai either. Their movements were too coordinated. After landing, they formed a defensive formation without saying a word: the Scarred Man in the middle, the Shuriken ninja facing the woods, and the Bandaged Short Man facing the cliff. Only people with formal military training would have tactical habits like that.
Takuma kept his breathing low and his body pressed tight against the rock. His dark green jacket helped him blend in among the vines. His situation was dire—ten meters above the ground and thirty meters below the top of the cliff. He had no time to climb up or down. If they spotted him, he'd be a sitting duck on this cliff face.
"Are you sure this is the right direction?" the Scarred Man asked in a low voice.
"I'm sure." The Bandaged Short Man pointed to a spot on the map. "The weak point in Konoha's third outer patrol route is right around this cliff area. Once we cross this ridge, we'll be at the edge of their barrier's detection range."
"There isn't even a path through this godforsaken place. Why would Konoha bother setting up a barrier here?"
"Because there's no path, the patrols are weakest here," the Scarred Man replied coldly. "Make the mark and leave. No more talking."
Takuma's heart sank. He understood now—these three were systematically scouting Konoha's outer defenses. This wasn't an impulsive crime like wandering shinobi robbing passing merchants. It was organized, deliberate military reconnaissance. It shouldn't have been happening in the heart of the Land of Fire, much less less than half a day's journey from Konoha.
The Scarred Man crouched beside a large rock in the riverbed and carved some kind of mark into it with his kunai. The other two spread out to keep watch.
The one facing the cliff happened to be the man with shuriken pouches all over his waist. His gaze swept across the cliff face from bottom to top, combing over it section by section like a comb.
Takuma burrowed into the vines and slowed his breathing. His right hand had already found an Explosive Tag in his ninja tool pouch, while his left gripped a crack in the rock.
The man's gaze swept past a spot half a meter above Takuma's head, then paused.
Then it moved on.
"Nothing unusual over here," the Shuriken ninja called.
"Stay alert," the Scarred Man said without looking up. "Once we've made the mark, we'll head to the high ground ahead. We should be able to see the whole layout of Konoha from there."
There really was a high point beyond this ridge from which Konoha's outline could be seen. Takuma had been there before and watched the sunset from its peak. If those three reached it, they'd be able to record Konoha's streets, patrol routes, and the location of Kage Rock.
He had to do something.
A straight fight against all three would be suicide. Running back to Konoha to warn them would take time, and by the time reinforcements arrived, the men would already be gone. His only advantage was that they didn't know he was there—and the twenty Explosive Tags Tenten had stuffed into his ninja tool pouch.
Takuma took a slow breath and pinched three Explosive Tags between his fingers. Then he let go of the rock and dropped silently from ten meters up. Gravel crunched softly beneath his feet.
"Who's there?!"
The Shuriken ninja reacted first, but Takuma was faster. The three Explosive Tags sliced through the air—not toward the enemy, but toward the thickest old tree on the east side of the riverbed.
"Explode!"
Three bursts of flame erupted at once, their thunderous blast tearing through the stillness of the mountains. A chunk of the old tree's trunk blew away, and thick smoke billowed into the sky, visible for miles above the forest.
"That kid's signaling for help!" the Shuriken ninja barked, flinging both hands up and sending six shuriken streaking toward Takuma.
Takuma had already dodged with a sideways roll as soon as he landed. The shuriken embedded themselves where he'd been standing, blasting gravel in every direction. He flipped into a half-kneel, kunai held across his chest, and faced the three enemies across thirty meters of riverbed.
The Scarred Man slowly stood. His scar looked even more menacing in the explosion's smoke. He stared at Takuma for two seconds, then suddenly smiled.
"A little Konoha Genin." His tone was as matter-of-fact as if he were stating the obvious. "Taking us on alone takes guts. But you made one mistake."
Takuma didn't reply. He forced himself to breathe slowly, his gaze darting between the three enemies as he gauged their distance, the terrain, and their possible attack routes.
The Scarred Man slowly drew his long sword from behind his back and pointed it at Takuma. His smile faded, and his eyes turned as sharp as a blade.
"Kill the nosy brat."
Before you continue