Our team headed toward the old market as I slid the wooden mask over my face. I was going into enemy territory, and anonymity was the most important weapon I had.
After a long walk we reached the district, and the smells hit me immediately. Spices sharp enough to sting the nose mixed with baskets of fresh fruit stacked in colorful pyramids. Vegetables lay piled high beside bundles of herbs, some fresh and fragrant, others so pungent they burned the back of my throat. The sour tang of dried fish clung stubbornly to the air. Stranger smells lingered too, drifting from stalls that sold shinobi gear scavenged from the wild, plants, roots, and dried animal parts that no sane person would ever eat. I had never once been tempted to try them. Well… maybe once. Fine, twice. Actually, never mind.
The market was alive with noise. Merchants shouted over one another, their voices raw from hours of haggling. They waved their arms, rattled their goods, and barked promises that each item was rarer than the last. Children darted between stalls, women argued with shopkeepers over prices, and the squeak of wooden carts mixed with the endless chatter.
Stalls spilled into the street, crammed with everything from ordinary household supplies like soap and pots, to shady weapons and "authentic" scrolls that promised secret ninjutsu capable of turning the buyer into a god. One vendor loudly swore that his parchment was 'The ultimate shinobi handbook. One night of study, and no enemy can stand against you!' It looked like it had been dunked in tea and left to dry on a roof. Naturally, I had never fallen for such scams. Well… maybe once. Fine, twice. Actually, never mind.
My thoughts were interrupted when Shisui slowed us down, his tone calm but firm. "Missions are not only about finishing the task. You must treat your client with respect and never put him in danger. Even if the mission succeeds, a client will not hire shinobi who behave poorly. That harms the village's reputation. So, work together, and act professionally."
Sena nodded with sharp focus. Kaen grunted in annoyance but gave a small nod. I raised a thumb in silence. My voice was too recognizable in this place, a voice that haunted these greedy merchants fattened by late-stage capitalism.
We pushed through the crowd, weaving between stalls and dodging elbows. Shisui spoke again as we neared our destination. "The client's name is Kobaru the Honest."
I froze mid-step, forcing Sena to stop as well. Shisui turned, irritation in his voice. "What is it this time?"
I leaned in and whispered. "He is anything but honest. He cheats customers, undercuts other merchants, and never keeps his word. It's a miracle he's still alive. Be careful."
Shisui's eyes narrowed before he gave a small nod. Sena's smile sharpened. "Let me handle this." Kaen didn't bother replying and kept walking.
When we reached the stall, the sign overhead swayed on its hinges. In faded, peeling paint, the words Kobaru the Honest gleamed in chipped gold. Suspicious didn't even begin to cover it.
Kobaru himself stood behind a cluttered table stacked with junk. Rusty kunai lay beside coils of rope, brittle tags, scrolls so obviously fake they looked like they'd been rubbed with ash and left in the rain. He was wiry, with sharp eyes that darted between us and the crowd. His grin was stretched too wide, his slicked-back hair shone with so much oil it reflected the sunlight, and his robes smelled faintly of incense, as though he was trying to hide something worse. Every movement was theatrical, like he was performing for an audience that had yet to applaud.
The moment he spotted us approaching, Kobaru straightened with exaggerated pride. "Honored shinobi," he crooned in a greasy voice, "may I interest you in some powerful kunai that can even handle chakra without being damaged?"
Shisui almost stumbled at the audacity of the claim. I nearly choked. Kunai that handle chakra? Sure. And I have sandals at home that let you walk on air. Maybe he has those too. Not that I ever fell for such obvious scams. Well… maybe once. Fine, twice. Actually, never mind.
Before either of us could speak, Sena glided forward with a flawless smile. "Hello, sir. We are sent by the Hokage to help relocate your great business to a place worthy of its reputation."
Kobaru's grin widened until his teeth gleamed. "Hmm, you speak much better than the shinobi I dealt with before. Perhaps my complaints have finally reached the Hokage himself."
"Of course," Sena replied smoothly. "We are nothing without our honest and hardworking merchants. Who else would sustain the economy of the village?"
Kobaru puffed up with pride, his chest swelling. "Indeed, you speak wisely, young shinobi. Very well. Let us begin. I want to catch the night rush at the new location."
We all nodded and began helping him. Every item Kobaru packed came with a ridiculous sales pitch.
"These ropes," he announced proudly, holding up something frayed, "are woven from the hair of tailed beasts. Strong enough to bind a bijuu itself."
Right. And my socks are spun from the whiskers of the Sage of Six Paths' cat.
He shoved the rope into a crate, then pulled out a stack of slips. "And these sealing tags? Far superior to anything in the market. Some say they can double your chakra reserves if you sleep with one under your pillow."
Perfect. Two of those and I'll be Hashirama by Friday.
Shisui's lips twitched dangerously, but Sena nodded politely, playing along. Kaen muttered, "What a scam," just loud enough for me to hear.
We tied down the cart, making sure nothing would fall out during the move. Kobaru hummed happily as he worked, convinced that today proved his brilliance.
If this man succeeds in the new market, I'm quitting shinobi life. Scam artistry is clearly the most profitable jutsu around.
Kobaru paused after catching my eyes. For a moment, it looked like he almost recognized me. Narrowing his gaze, he asked, 'Do I know you, young shinobi?'
I shook my head, staying silent. His suspicion deepened. "Then why do you not speak?"
Sena cut in smoothly. "He lost his tongue on a mission. He was tortured to reveal Konoha's secrets, but he refused. The enemy punished him for his loyalty."
Kobaru's face softened with admiration. "As expected of the principled and brave shinobi of Konoha." He extended his hand. "Thank you for your dedication, young man."
I nodded and shook it, thinking for a moment he might not be so bad after all.
Then he ruined it. "I have a seal created by the miraculous Lady Tsunade, goddess of healing, that can restore your tongue completely."
Sena nearly fell to the ground holding back her laughter. Kaen choked, but before he could make a sound Shisui flickered forward with such speed that even I didn't see him move until his hand covered Kaen's mouth.
I stood stunned. Only Kobaru could turn even this into a scam. Civilians might believe it, but shinobi knew better. Then again, I had fallen for worse before, so I kept my mouth shut.
Instead, I raised my hands and made a few nonsense signs. Sena translated instantly. "He says he will definitely try your seal once the mission is complete."
Kobaru beamed with satisfaction and began pushing his cart. We formed up around it, guiding him out of the old market and into the crowded streets beyond.
Once we reached the street, we began moving toward the main road. It was a little farther, but it was wide, busy, and safe. The detour would take more time, but it would make the mission easier overall.
Kobaru, however, had other plans. "I know a shortcut," he said, puffing out his chest. "Let's go through the southern district."
Shisui walked beside us, looking only a little older than the rest of the team. To most passersby he seemed like another shinobi escort, not a legendary jonin. He stayed silent, leaving the interaction to us. This was his way of testing our performance without stepping in.
Sena was the first to answer, her tone smooth and respectful. "Respected Merchant Kobaru, the southern district might be a bit risky to go through."
He waved her concern away with a laugh. "You worry too much. This is Konoha, the safest village in the world. We'll be fine." Without another word, he began pushing his cart toward the southern road, his humming returning as if the matter was settled.
We exchanged looks among ourselves, but none of us spoke. With no other choice, we fell into step beside him, following the cart as it rattled forward into a direction that promised nothing short of a bizarre adventure.