Komatsu had barely stepped down from the carriage, legs still trembling, when Mamoru lunged, seizing him by the collar.
"You bastard, you lied to us!" Mamoru hissed through clenched teeth, fighting to keep his rage in check. "Why are there ninjas here!?"
"Mamoru, let him go." Kurenai stepped forward, her voice cool and clipped.
The sudden accusation drained the color from Komatsu's face, his lips quivered as tears and snot ran down. "Please… help me…"
"Disgusting." Mamoru released him with a look of revulsion, as if touching something filthy. "A grown man bawling... pathetic."
Komatsu staggered back several steps before finding his balance. His collar was crumpled, claw marks vivid across his throat, making him look even more wretched.
"Komatsu-san." Kurenai turned to him, crimson eyes calm yet piercing, as though they could see straight through him.
"I need to be certain. Were those ninjas specifically after you? Tell us the truth."
Though Seiichiro had revealed the crucial information before dying, an experienced Jonin knew better than to trust a single source. She needed to hear it from Komatsu himself.
"I'm sorry!"
Thud!
Komatsu dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the dusty ground in a perfect dogeza, hands placed neatly beside his head.
"I had no choice…" Ge murmured, voice muffled by dirt.
By now, he understood that any further concealment was pointless.
Surprise flashed in Mamoru's eyes—this was the first time he'd seen such a textbook dogeza in real life.
"Please, stand and speak."
Seeing a grown man prostrate himself, Kurenai softened slightly. She didn't want to humiliate him further and leaned forward as if to help him up.
"I… won't rise." Komatsu stayed bowed, shoulders trembling, fingers clawing into the earth with a resolve that looked like acceptance of death.
"Then let him kneel, he seems to enjoy it." Mamoru folded his arms, lips curling in mockery.
Kurenai shot him a glare.
Mamoru merely shrugged and looked away.
"Very well, Komatsu-san. Speak the truth."
Kurenai's voice regained its Jonin composure. She straightened, eyes fixed on the kneeling man.
Komatsu shivered, then slowly lifted his dirt-streaked, tear-stained face. After a long hesitation, he seemed to reach a decision.
"It began like this…"
As he spoke, the real story unfolded.
Team 8 had walked into a trap from the start.
The so-called 'test' was fiction, Komatsu's real purpose was to recruit help.
The Nishimura Trading Company, renowned across the Land of Grass for a century, had started with dried goods and spices and now boasted branches nationwide and overseas.
Komatsu's father, the eldest son, inherited the business. The half-brother, Nishimura Hiroshi, born of a concubine, grew resentful. Once the company flourished, Hiroshi's envy turned to open ambition, and he resolved to strike.
Alone he lacked the means, so through some channel he contacted the Rogue Ninja Tosuke. Said to be a Jonin who deserted his village, Tosuke's reputation drew samurais and rogue ninjas to his banner. They made Nagakawa City their playground, feared by all.
As Tosuke's power swelled, he gathered not only ninjas but greedy gangsters, then cast his gaze toward commerce. He and Hiroshi formed an unholy alliance and attacked the Nishimura Family.
The plan was to imprison Komatsu's father, but Tosuke's thugs beat the man so badly he was left paralyzed and comatose, clinging to life.
Seeing his elder brother no longer a threat, Hiroshi offered the family mansion as Tosuke's stronghold. Tosuke gladly took it, turning it into a nightly den of revelry.
Backed by Tosuke's blades, Hiroshi rose as the company's public face, ruling the city unchallenged, while Tosuke's fame lured ever more deserters.
Today Nagakawa lies entirely in their grip. The Nishimura Trading Company, fruit of generations, had been usurped, and the pain of that loss gnawed at Komatsu every moment. He bided his time until a guard drank himself senseless, then slipped out unseen.
A friend of his father risked everything to send him beyond the city walls. Without pause, he crossed the Land of Grass border and vanished into the Land of Fire's vast night.
There he exhausted every idea and his dwindling funds, until the truth struck: the root was Tosuke.
While the rogue ninja lived, the company would never return.
Only ninja can defeat ninja, he concluded, so he headed for Konoha to hire ninjas.
But Konoha's reality dealt him a harsh blow. Given Tosuke's strength, the mission ranked at least B, perhaps A, while his purse covered only the deposit for a single C-rank.
In the end, he falsified the request, posting a C-rank escort mission. Better than doing nothing, he told himself.
He never expected Konoha to send only four ninjas—three of them children.
His heart sank, but he clung to the hope that the Jonin among them might suffice.
His earlier disdain had provoked Mamoru's intimidating display, yet that flash of power gave him a glimmer of hope and he began to court the boy.
Reason insisted four ninjas could never topple Tosuke, yet a faint 'what if' lingered.
Kurenai asked, folding her arms, "Komatsu-san, if the fee was lacking, what about those crates on the wagon?"
"The top layer is stone, the rest are empty." Mamoru supplied the answer, voice low.
"So you noticed." Komatsu gave a bitter smile, fingers scraping the dirt. "I couldn't afford real cargo, only empty boxes and even the carriage was rented at the last hour."
"You certainly put effort into the act." Mamoru said, half annoyed, half amused.
"Why not appeal to the daimyo of the Land of Grass?" Kurenai frowned.
Official aid seemed the obvious path.
"I tried but in this country, it's useless." Tears welled again, he wiped them with his sleeve. "You know how corrupt things are. Hiroshi has bribed every official. They fear Tosuke and covet his money. I was desperate."
Mamoru had heard of the Land of Grass's rot, but seeing a crime this brazen go unpunished still shocked Team 8.
Mamoru said, voice sharp, "One thing puzzles me. Why didn't they just kill you?"
A bitter, humiliated smile flitted across Komatsu's face. After a moment of silence, he answered, "Because most of the trading company's long-standing major clients were relationships my father spent decades building. They're telling everyone my father is gravely ill, and, rather than letting Hiroshi deal with visitors, they keep me around for appearances. For the sake of business, they haven't gotten rid of me yet."
Hearing his explanation, Mamoru nodded inwardly. Faced with huge profits, plenty of things can be compromised.
Yet the more he thought, the more something felt off, though for the moment, he couldn't put his finger on it.
"But your escape this time will probably provoke them. Pray your old man at home is still alive." Mamoru's words were meaningful, and they sent Komatsu's heart sinking to the pit of his stomach.
"Please, you must help us!"
Komatsu lunged forward and hugged Kurenai's legs, begging. He knew the Jonin held the team's decision-making power.
"Komatsu-san, you falsified the mission from the start. We have the right to refuse to continue." Kurenai's voice was calm and firm as she tried to shake off his grip. "I won't let my students walk into a life-threatening crisis."