A few days had passed since the last mission, and that should have meant rest.
In practice, it only meant that the body stopped hurting at the same pace the mind began to hurt in a different way.
Ren realized this on the third morning.
He woke up before sunrise, as he had been doing ever since he got used to training while the village was still half asleep, and sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds without moving. The room was silent. Not the empty kind of silence — but the kind filled with small things: the faint creak of wood, the soft wind brushing against the roof.
He took a deep breath.
The air felt normal.
And that was strange.
Because after a hard mission, "normal" started to feel… suspicious.
He got up and went to the courtyard of the Uchiha compound — not because he liked that place more than the others, but because his body already knew the way without needing to think. The ground was still damp with morning dew. The leaves on the trees held droplets that fell every now and then, as if the world were blinking slowly.
Ren picked up a training kunai, spun it between his fingers, and tried to focus.
But this wasn't strength training.
It was… stability training.
He repeated simple movements: forward step, backward step, turn, slash through the air. Controlled, unhurried. As if each action needed to prove to his own body that there was no need to rush.
Even so, his mind kept returning to the same sentence.
*"Stop acting like you're disposable."*
When Ren remembered Asuma's voice, it didn't come as a scolding. It came as a fact. As something obvious that, for some reason, he had forgotten.
Ren stopped moving and looked at his own hand.
The skin was normal. No trembling. No blood.
He should have felt relieved.
But there was something underneath, like a thin layer of tension that wouldn't go away.
He was trying to learn how not to carry the world alone.
The problem was… learning that was harder than learning any jutsu.
The sound of footsteps in the compound corridor made him turn instinctively.
For a second, his body reacted before his mind, as if the training had been for that too.
But it was just Mikoto.
Or rather: the memory of her.
Ren froze for a moment.
Then he realized it wasn't her, of course. There was no one there. Just the wind.
He breathed again, slower.
And at that exact moment, a small messenger bird landed on the wall, carrying a cylinder tied to its leg.
Ren froze.
The bird tilted its head, as if it were evaluating him too.
He approached carefully, took the cylinder, and released the latch. The Konoha seal was there, intact. And below it, the symbol of the mission sector.
It wasn't from the clan.
It wasn't personal.
It was work.
Ren closed the cylinder again for a second, as if that could delay the weight that came with it.
Then he turned and left the courtyard, heading straight for the team's meeting point.
—
The place was the same as always.
And yet, it felt different when something important was about to happen.
Ino was already there when Ren arrived, her equipment bag over her shoulder and her hair tied more tightly than usual. She didn't look obviously nervous, but Ren knew the small details: the way she kept tightening the knot of her headband, how her fingers returned to the same spot over and over, how her gaze drifted toward the village gate as if measuring the distance.
Shikamaru was sitting on a step, yawning, hands in his pockets, as if it were just another inconvenient morning.
But his eyes were open.
That alone said a lot.
When Ren approached, Ino spoke first.
"You got one too?"
Ren raised the cylinder without saying anything.
Shikamaru looked at it and sighed.
"Yeah… looks like the period of pretending life is simple is over."
"You never pretend life is simple," Ino shot back.
"I pretend I don't care," he replied lazily. "That's different."
Ren put the cylinder in his bag.
"Is this for now?"
"If they sent a bird this early, it's because they want us early," Shikamaru said, as if doing basic math.
Ino looked at Ren.
"Are you okay?"
The question was simple.
But her tone wasn't.
Ren hesitated for a second.
He could lie easily. Say "yeah," smile lightly, and that would be it.
But he remembered his conversation with Asuma. The way Asuma insisted on putting things into words, as if words were a way to stop Ren from hiding inside his own silence.
"I'm… stable," Ren replied.
Ino blinked, as if the choice of word surprised her.
Shikamaru gave a half-smile.
"That's the most vulnerability we're getting from you today?"
Ren looked at him calmly.
"Depends on what the mission is."
Shikamaru yawned again.
"Fair."
As if summoned by his own name, Asuma appeared soon after, walking without hurry, posture relaxed, cigarette still unlit between his fingers.
But his eyes were serious.
Serious in a way Ren didn't see often.
Asuma stopped in front of them, analyzing the three for a moment.
"Alright," he said. "No complaining today. I know you like to complain, but today… save it."
Ino swallowed.
Shikamaru opened his mouth to argue, thought better of it, and closed it again.
Ren just waited.
Asuma pulled a cylinder from his pocket and spun it between his fingers.
"Let's walk," he said. "I don't want to talk about this here."
The simple fact that Asuma didn't want to talk *here* already turned the mission into something else.
They followed him.
The village was really waking up now: shopkeepers lifting shutters, some ninjas heading out early to train, children running around without knowing anything about rankings or blood. Everything looked the same.
And because of that, it felt distant.
When they reached a less crowded side corridor near the mission building, Asuma stopped and finally lit his cigarette, releasing the smoke slowly.
"Rank B," he said, without embellishment.
Ino felt her stomach tighten.
Shikamaru stayed silent for two seconds longer than usual.
Ren didn't react on the outside.
But inside, something adjusted.
Rank B wasn't "deliver something."
It wasn't "catch a cat."
It wasn't "escort a merchant."
Rank B was when the world started asking for things that didn't go back.
Asuma continued, still calm.
"Land of Grass. Kusagakure."
Ino frowned.
"Grass? Why are we going there?"
"Because what the client wants is there," Asuma replied.
Shikamaru looked at the cigarette, as if the smoke were a map.
"Client… so it's a contract."
"Yes."
"And the mission is… what?" Ino asked, already knowing she wouldn't like the answer.
Asuma looked at the three of them, one by one.
Then he said the word without trying to soften it.
"Assassination."
The corridor seemed to grow colder.
Not because of wind.
Because of meaning.
Ino froze. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.
Shikamaru blinked slowly, as if reorganizing his internal world to fit that information.
Ren felt something strange: not shock, exactly.
It was… a kind of quiet that came when the mind recognized a point of no return.
Asuma exhaled smoke.
"Before anyone says something stupid, let me be clear: this isn't 'killing for nothing'. The target isn't an innocent civilian. He's a noble who's funding mercenaries and rogue shinobi to destabilize routes and buy protection. People have already died because of this."
Ino opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again.
"But… we're still genin."
"That's why I'm going with you," Asuma replied, as if it were obvious. "And that's why this is Rank B, not A. You'll participate, but I'll control the pace."
Shikamaru finally spoke, his voice low.
"What's the exact objective?"
Asuma nodded, as if approving the focus.
"Infiltrate, confirm identity, eliminate, extract. No war. No spectacle. No traces pointing to Konoha."
Ren noticed Asuma's choice of words.
Eliminate. Not execute. Not massacre. Not revenge.
A technical word.
But still death.
Ren looked at the ground for a moment.
"When?"
"Tomorrow morning," Asuma said. "Today is preparation. You'll eat, sleep, check equipment, and…" — he paused briefly — "…think."
Shikamaru sighed.
"Thinking is hard work."
"Exactly," Asuma replied. "Today, you work."
Ino looked like she wanted to ask ten things at once. Ren saw the conflict on her face: fear, responsibility, curiosity, and a deeper part that didn't want to admit that this attracted her too — not because of violence, but because of proving she could.
She took a deep breath.
"How are we approaching?"
Asuma gestured with his cigarette, drawing in the air.
"We'll travel by land, northern route, avoiding major roads near the border. The target is temporarily staying in a property near Kusagakure. Mixed security: normal guards and some hired shinobi, nothing elite. Still, don't underestimate them."
Ren realized something.
Asuma was talking to them like they were… real.
Not like children.
That made everything heavier.
Shikamaru put a hand on his chin.
"What's the target's name?"
Asuma pulled out a folded paper and opened it just enough for them to see.
"Hayato Kamizuru."
Ino repeated it mentally, as if memorizing.
Ren stored the name with calm coldness, but felt discomfort.
Kamizuru.
The name felt loaded with an importance he didn't yet understand.
Asuma folded the paper again.
"We'll get full details in the mission room with the sector officer. Not here."
Shikamaru nodded.
Ren noticed that Shikamaru was more serious than ever. He wasn't complaining.
That meant he was already calculating risk.
Ino looked at Ren, as if searching for something in his face.
Maybe reassurance.
Maybe a "it'll be fine."
Ren didn't have that.
But he had something else: presence.
He looked back at her, steady, and said quietly:
"We're going together."
Ino swallowed and nodded, as if that simple sentence were a thread holding the ground in place.
Asuma watched the exchange, exhaled smoke, and said:
"Good. Because if I catch any of you trying to play hero alone… I'll personally drag you back by the collar. Understood?"
Ren felt the sentence aimed at him like a kunai.
And this time, he didn't dodge.
"Understood," he replied.
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow.
"You're going to drag him? That sounds exhausting."
Asuma smirked.
"I have techniques for that."
Ino let out a short, nervous laugh.
And for a second, the corridor felt… human again.
—
The mission room was smaller than Ren expected for something so big.
Maybe because the weight didn't come from the place.
It came from what was said inside.
The sector officer — a chūnin with a neutral gaze, the kind trained not to react — went through the report: suggested route, description of the property, probable schedule of the target, and additional information.
Ren listened.
Not like someone curious.
Like someone recording.
Shikamaru asked precise, quick questions, as if assembling an invisible puzzle.
Ino asked for a description of the target: posture, habits, escort. She wanted to recognize him before acting.
Asuma kept control, cutting anything that sounded like useless excess.
In the end, the chūnin handed over the sealed scroll.
"This must not be opened unless necessary."
Asuma took it and stored it.
"You don't talk about this with anyone. Not with friends. Not with family. Not with…" — he glanced lightly at Ino — "…people who ask too many questions."
Ino frowned.
"I don't ask too many questions."
Shikamaru looked at her.
"You ask enough for three."
Ren noticed that even there, the team's dynamic insisted on existing.
And that helped.
When they left the building, the sun was already higher.
The village was full now.
And because of that, it felt even more distant.
Asuma stopped outside and looked at the three.
"Today you prepare. And I don't want to see anyone trying to 'train until they drop'. I don't want broken bodies before the trip."
Ren felt the automatic urge to say "I'm fine", like always.
But he remembered: don't act disposable.
So he just nodded.
Ino took a deep breath.
"What time tomorrow?"
"Five. At the gate."
Shikamaru grimaced.
"Five in the morning is violence."
"Missions don't care about your comfort," Asuma replied. "And assassination cares even less."
The word fell again like a stone.
Ino grew serious again.
Ren felt his chest tighten.
But this time, he didn't try to pretend it wasn't there.
He just accepted it.
Asuma stepped closer and spoke more quietly.
"One thing. You don't have to like this. Shinobi aren't heroes. But you don't have to become monsters either. You just need to… do what needs to be done. And come back."
Ren looked at Asuma.
"And if we can't?"
Asuma held his gaze.
"Then I'll carry you back if I have to. But I won't let you break out there."
The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It was commitment.
Ren nodded.
"Okay."
Ino looked at Asuma, like she wanted to say something. In the end, she just said:
"Okay."
Shikamaru yawned.
"Troublesome…"
And then they separated.
Each going home with the same weight.
But carrying it differently.
—
Ren tried to sleep early.
That was the hardest part.
He lay down, closed his eyes, breathed slowly, tried to relax his body.
But his mind kept drawing scenarios: the property, the target, guards, shadows, the blade entering, the silence afterward.
It was different from fighting in a mission.
In a mission, death came as a consequence of seconds.
Here, death was… the objective.
He turned to the side, stared at the ceiling, and realized his hand was clenched into a fist.
He forced his fingers to relax.
*We're going together.*
He repeated the sentence silently, like a seal.
Maybe it wasn't for Ino.
Maybe it was for himself.
When he finally fell asleep, it wasn't deep.
It was light, fragmented.
And even so, when the improvised alarm — his body's habit — pulled him back, Ren got up without hesitation.
It was still night.
The world was still quiet.
He dressed, grabbed his bag, and left.
—
Konoha's gate at five in the morning felt different.
It wasn't the gate of those returning.
It was the gate of those leaving without knowing how the return would be.
Ino was already there, as always. Her gaze too firm, as if she were wearing determination as armor.
Shikamaru arrived soon after, yawning, but with his bag ready and his hair arranged in a way that showed he had taken it seriously.
Asuma appeared last, walking without hurry, unlit cigarette at the corner of his mouth.
He looked at the three and nodded.
"Good. You don't look dead. Yet."
Ino gave a nervous smile.
Shikamaru muttered something incomprehensible.
Ren just adjusted his bag strap.
Asuma made a short gesture.
"Let's go."
And they passed through the gate.
The road opened.
The world outside smelled of damp earth and leaves.
The sky was beginning to brighten, but it was still that moment between night and day when everything felt suspended.
They ran at mission pace: fast, constant, no waste.
Ren felt the wind on his face and, for the first time in days, his mind felt… cleaner.
Running always did that.
Not because it was escape.
But because it was focus.
After a while, Asuma slowed and climbed into the trees, guiding the team from above, avoiding obvious trails.
Ino adapted quickly, jumping from branch to branch with careful precision.
Shikamaru seemed to complain less when moving, as if a busy body left less space for boredom.
Ren observed.
Always observed.
The team's pattern formed without needing words: Asuma in front, Ino in the middle, Shikamaru covering the flank, Ren alternating position, sometimes behind, sometimes lateral, as if wanting to see the whole.
After hours, when the sun was already high, Asuma stopped on a thicker branch and raised his hand.
Everyone stopped.
Not to rest.
To pay attention.
Asuma looked forward, then back, as if measuring the world.
"Short break," he said. "Eat and hydrate."
Ino exhaled.
Shikamaru sat immediately, like his body was programmed to save energy whenever possible.
Ren stayed standing, alert, scanning the surroundings.
Ino took a bottle from her bag, drank, then offered it to Ren without saying anything.
Ren took it and drank too.
The gesture was simple.
But a few days ago, he might have refused.
To avoid being "a burden".
Now, he accepted.
And felt a strange relief because of it.
Shikamaru spoke between sips.
"So… Land of Grass."
Ino looked at Asuma.
"You've been there before?"
Asuma exhaled imaginary smoke — the cigarette still unlit.
"Yes. It's not a nice place."
"Because of the village?" Ino asked.
"Because of what happens when a small country becomes a war corridor," Asuma replied. "Land of Grass sits between big players. And those in the middle… get hit harder."
Ren stored the sentence.
"And the village?" Ino insisted. "Kusagakure, I mean."
"They're not our enemies," Asuma said. "But they're not our friends either. They're… survivors."
Shikamaru lay down, using his backpack as a pillow.
"How comforting."
Asuma looked at him.
"You want to go back?"
Shikamaru opened one eye.
"I always want to go back. That's my dream."
Ino laughed softly.
Ren noticed that broken humor was Shikamaru's way of not letting fear take shape.
He understood.
Because Ren did the opposite: he let fear exist, but tried to control it internally.
Asuma stood up.
"Let's move. I want to reach the border area before the end of the day."
They continued.
The landscape changed slowly: the dense forest became more irregular, with clearings and wetter ground. The air grew heavier, and the smell of stagnant water appeared in some places.
Ren felt the world becoming less familiar.
And that alone was a warning.
When the sun began to set, Asuma finally signaled to set up a discreet camp.
No visible fire.
No noise.
They hid in a natural depression in the terrain, surrounded by trees and rocks, and ate in silence, chewing more than talking.
Ino tried to start a conversation, but gave up after two short sentences.
Shikamaru was even quieter.
Ren looked at the sky, where the stars were beginning to appear.
At some point, Asuma spoke softly, as if not wanting to wake the world.
"Tomorrow we enter the territory of the Land of Grass. From there, everything changes. Understood?"
The three nodded.
Ren felt the weight again.
But it wasn't the weight of being alone.
It was the weight of being… inside.
Inside the team.
Inside the mission.
Inside something that couldn't be undone.
Ino looked at Ren, and this time she didn't ask "are you okay".
She just leaned her shoulder against his for a second, quick, as if saying without words:
*I'm here.*
Ren didn't move.
But inside, something relaxed.
Shikamaru closed his eyes, trying to sleep, and muttered:
"If we survive, I'm demanding a week off."
Asuma replied, without humor.
"If we survive, you'll be grateful you have problems to complain about."
Silence returned.
And Ren kept staring into the darkness beyond the trees, feeling the world too big again.
Only now… he wasn't looking alone.
—
The next day, they left before dawn.
And when the first pale line of light appeared on the horizon, Ren noticed something among the trees: marks on the path, subtle changes in vegetation, signs of routes used by people who didn't want to be seen.
The border had no wall.
Only… a feeling.
As if the air changed.
As if the world, suddenly, cared less about pretending it was safe.
Asuma stopped for a second, touched a tree trunk with his fingers, and took a deep breath.
"Welcome to the Land of Grass."
Ino swallowed.
Shikamaru opened his eyes fully.
Ren felt his heart beat a little faster.
And then, without another word, they entered.
The mission had truly begun.
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