The journey to the Artisan Village had been rough after the battle. The weight on my shoulders seemed to grow heavier with each step along the steep trail. Though I felt a little better after our short rest, I knew that among Jimei, Natsu, and me, I was the least injured.
The silence of the forest around us was broken only by the sound of our weary footsteps. The dense trees gradually gave way to a vast bamboo grove, and the air turned fresher as we neared the village. The tall, slender stalks swayed gently in the morning breeze, filling the air with the soft rustling of leaves.
Leading the way was Dekai-sensei, his posture as firm and unshaken as ever. If the exhaustion was getting to him, he showed no sign of it. The man was imposing—broad-shouldered, with a perpetually severe expression, as if fatigue had no place in his body.
Beside me, Jimei trudged along, visibly drained. His shoulders slumped, and the usual spark of curiosity and mischief in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by a distant, weary gaze. The journey had taken its toll on him, and I wasn't sure what was worse—the physical exhaustion or the mental burden. It seemed that our battle had revealed more than just our weaknesses.
Natsu, on the other hand, was nearing her limit. Her wound still troubled her, despite the bandages being wrapped securely. I knew the cut wasn't minor. She struggled to keep pace, and the look in her eyes told me that the weight of the journey was becoming unbearable. If we had to face another fight before returning to Konoha, it could be a serious problem. The wound wasn't fatal, but if left untreated, it could get worse.
As the village gates came into view, a wave of relief washed over me—but so did a creeping unease. I had no idea what to expect from the Artisan Village, but honestly, all I wanted was a warm, soft bed to rest in.
The village wasn't large, but its importance in the shinobi world was undeniable. What stood out the most, however, were the numerous columns of smoke rising into the sky from different parts of the settlement.
When we reached the gates, two guards stepped in our path. They were sturdy men, clad in gray vests with the traditional headbands of the Artisan Village. Their expressions were anything but welcoming.
I saw it clearly—the disdain in their eyes as they looked at us. It wasn't just suspicion; it was as if our presence was a nuisance, an unwelcome interruption to their daily routine. What should have been a simple formality felt more like an outright challenge.
"What are Leaf shinobi doing here?" one of the guards asked, his voice sharp and laced with disinterest.
Dekai-sensei remained unfazed. If the man's tone irritated him, he didn't let it show. He'd be terrifying in a game of poker—his cold, unreadable gaze never wavered.
"We're on a mission. We're here to deliver a package to Houki." he stated plainly.
The moment Houki's name was mentioned, the second guard reacted. He exchanged a glance with his partner before gesturing with his hand.
"Wait here!" The man said, then turned and ordered. "Go get Houki-sama. Tell him Konoha shinobi are waiting."
Something about the way they handled this felt odd. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who thought so—Jimei furrowed his brows, visibly displeased.
"We're not allowed inside the village?" he asked, restless and impatient after our long journey.
The remaining guard let out a dry chuckle, almost mocking us.
"Shinobi from other villages can only enter if they're here to place an order. Only merchants and customers are permitted access." His tone was dripping with condescension.
It wasn't the response itself that irritated me—sure, I wanted a warm bed—but the way he spoke to us, as if we were nothing more than unwelcome intruders.
A village this small with policies this strict? To them, a Konoha shinobi was just another outsider. But why such hostility? I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling settling in my gut.
Tension hung thick in the air. I glanced at Natsu, who still bore the weight of her injury, then at Jimei, who was scowling in frustration. He shot a glance toward our teammate before crossing his arms and grumbling.
"This is unfair! We need to rest and recover."
I understood his frustration completely. We were all exhausted from the journey and the battle we had fought. But before Jimei could continue his complaints, Dekai-sensei's voice sliced through the air like a blade.
"Quiet, Jimei."
His tone was cold, authoritative—enough to make us all freeze.
Jimei turned to him, lips parting as if to argue, but the sharp look in Dekai-sensei's eyes silenced him instantly. I had never seen him this serious before. This wasn't a request; it was an order. And when he shifted slightly, locking eyes with me, something told me not to question it.
Dekai-sensei's voice always carried authority—he was our superior, after all—but right now, there was something more. Something that left no room for defiance.
The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.
Then, I heard footsteps approaching.
I turned toward the village entrance and saw a man arriving, flanked by two figures who appeared to be med-nin.
My pulse quickened.
Houki.
So this was him? Wasn't he in a filler episode of the anime? He fought Gaara and Naruto. I didn't remember all the details, but I knew the story involved one of Gaara's students... Matsuri? Mayume? Something like that.
The fact that he was the recipient of our mission made my stomach churn. It felt like fate was weaving itself together in an unsettling way.
Houki approached with a friendly smile, though it felt out of place given the tension in the air.
"I didn't expect the Blazing Weaver to be delivering something so mundane." He said, his tone laced with irony.
I blinked. Blazing Weaver?
My eyes darted to Dekai-sensei's back. I had no idea he was well-known enough to have a title like that. Why had he never mentioned it?
Dekai-sensei didn't react to Houki's provocation. He simply looked at the man, as if the encounter was nothing more than another routine task.
"Things have changed." He replied without any emotion in his voice.
Without another word, he pulled a sealed scroll from his back and handed it to Houki.
Houki wasted no time. He crouched down, unrolled the scroll, and activated the seal.
The red stone he retrieved was mesmerizing—vibrant, almost glowing with its own energy.
That ore… Was this what he needed to forge that fire sword he used against Gaara?
Houki's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Even better than I expected."
He ran his fingers across the surface, inspecting it with fascination. A few seconds passed before Dekai-sensei cleared his throat, arching an eyebrow slightly.
Houki blinked, as if snapping back to reality, then let out a small chuckle.
"Of course, of course. Can't forget the confirmation." He pulled out a smaller scroll and handed it to Dekai. "I heard you ran into trouble on the way here. A rogue from Konoha, wasn't it? I thought it would be wise to bring some med-nin to treat your wounds."
A chill ran through me.
How… How did he know that?
It was obvious we were injured, sure. But how did he know, specifically, that we had fought a rogue ninja from Konoha?
This was too suspicious.
I glanced at Dekai-sensei and bit my lip. We needed medical help, but this whole situation felt wrong.
"We don't need medics!" Dekai-sensei stated firmly.
Jimei opened his mouth to protest, but I placed a firm hand on his arm, squeezing lightly in warning. He looked at me but remained silent.
Houki raised his hands in mock surrender. "No need to be so cautious. At least take some medicine for your trip back."
Dekai refused without hesitation. "The mission is complete. There's no need for concern."
Houki's smile faltered for a brief moment before he regained his composure.
Something was off.
And as we left the village, I could still feel Houki's gaze on us.
That feeling never left me.