According to the information relayed by the snake swarm, there was a narrow, overgrown path on the left side of the main road—likely abandoned long ago.
The faint wheel tracks pressed into the dirt revealed that carriages had once passed that way, but aside from that, the snake scouts found nothing else.
Of course, that wasn't surprising. The snakes' intelligence was limited; even if several hundred of them worked together, their combined wits wouldn't come close to matching Nawaki's usual level of awareness.
It was already impressive that they managed to deliver this much detail back to Hayashi.
Hayashi and Kushina moved swiftly through the dense forest, leaping from branch to branch, spinning and weaving between the trees until they reached the suspected route.
They crouched low, brushing aside the tall weeds and confirming the existence of the small path.
The six known roads marked on their map, combined with these two new discoveries, brought the total to eight. Watching over all of them with only four people was nearly impossible—but they had to make do.
After all, the mission was bigger than any of them. Tsunade was leading two new recruits through another sector of the forest, while Orochimaru was covering twice the workload on his own.
If their superiors weren't complaining, what right did the genin have to?
They could only grit their teeth and push forward.
Once Hayashi finished confirming the new path, he began setting traps. With only four of them, constant surveillance of every route was impossible. Simple traps would have to do.
He stretched a thin ninja wire across the dirt trail—an old but reliable method. A careless step would trigger a response, whether a kunai snare or a buried explosive tag. It all depended on the user's preference.
Simple, yes—but deadly enough for most careless shinobi. Unlike some flashy jutsu that looked powerful yet rarely hit anything, these traps could truly kill.
"During this period, we'll focus on watching this road and the other seven routes," Hayashi said after finishing the setup. "When it's your turn to keep watch, report immediately if you see anything. Or pair up with Mikoto if needed."
He paused for a moment, thinking of Tsunade's orders. She might have trusted him enough to watch over Kushina, but even Hayashi knew better than to take that lightly.
If something happened to her—the Nine-Tails' future host—he'd be the one to shoulder the blame. He didn't plan to become Konoha's next scapegoat.
"Then… can I be on your team instead?" Kushina asked, blushing as she fiddled with a lock of her bright red hair. The butterfly-shaped hairpin on her forehead shimmered under the sunlight, complementing her black ninja outfit.
Hayashi smiled faintly and patted her head. "There are too many routes. Nawaki and I will each cover one ourselves."
Kushina puffed her cheeks. "If you and Nawaki can do it, Mikoto and I can handle it too!"
"It's safer for you to stay with Mikoto," Hayashi replied gently. "A man who can't protect others isn't worth much. Safety isn't something a man should seek—it's something he ensures."
His grin widened, warm but teasing.
Kushina's face turned as red as her hair. Her heart thumped wildly, and she suddenly felt light-headed, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
By the time they returned to camp, Nawaki was already back from hunting—with a fresh catch slung over his shoulder.
"Not bad," Hayashi said, raising a brow.
Nawaki grinned proudly. "Heh, caught a big one! Thank me later—you won't have to eat dry rations tonight!"
Mikoto and Kushina quickly began preparing dinner, working together as the faint glow of dusk settled through the forest canopy. Tonight's meal would be roasted river fish—fresh, flaky, and filling.
Hayashi sat back, sipping from a cup of tea Mikoto had brewed. The aroma was calming, earthy and sweet.
He chuckled softly as Nawaki puffed out his chest.
"Pretty good, right?" Nawaki boasted.
Hayashi smirked. "Then I suppose I should thank your girlfriend—for not showing up these past nine years. You've gotten so focused on training, you're almost impressive."
Nawaki groaned. "Oh, come on, Hayashi! That's low!"
The camp filled with laughter as the night breeze swept through the trees.
After dinner, the group rested in their tents. The peaceful rhythm of forest life made time slip by quickly.
Three days later, Orochimaru arrived to exchange information. Hayashi reported the new paths they had discovered and the current patrol schedule.
Orochimaru, however, had found nothing—nor had Tsunade.
"It's strange," Orochimaru muttered. "If our sources are wrong, someone's gone to great lengths to mislead us."
He decided that if no trace appeared within the next three days, the mission would be called off. They'd all return to Konoha.
The following days dragged on in dull silence. The four of them were still technically Academy students, yet here they were—deep in a forest, surviving like full-fledged shinobi.
Hayashi imagined Minato's confused face when the rest of the class returned without them and chuckled quietly to himself.
Finally, the last day arrived.
Hayashi, Mikoto, Kushina, and Nawaki sat together under a large tree, lazily playing with crickets to pass the time.
"Tomorrow this mission's over," Nawaki said with a grin. "We can finally head back to Konoha!" His cricket had just flipped Hayashi's onto its back, and he pumped a fist in victory.
"That letter must've been fake," he continued, analyzing things like a detective. "The Hidden Rain Village wouldn't dare provoke Konoha so openly."
Hayashi raised an eyebrow. "You think so? According to statistics, over ninety-five percent of people who die in fights are the ones who strike first. Know why?"
"Why?" Nawaki asked curiously.
"Because the ones who survived are the ones telling the story."
He placed another cricket in the ring. "If we all die, no one will know who struck first. So your assumption isn't exactly reliable."
The others burst out laughing. Even Kushina, who usually enjoyed this game the most, eventually grew bored.
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