Naruto : Blazing Legend

Chapter 39: S-Level Mission

"This is an S-rank mission," Minato began, his voice carrying the weight that such classifications demanded. "We're searching for a forbidden scroll in the ruins of the former Whirlpool Country. Our intelligence comes from a Kirigakure elder—bought at considerable expense."

The words hit Rei like a physical blow. S-rank meant jōnin-level opposition, possibly multiple enemies, and a significant chance that not everyone would return home. His first taste of the missions that separated the living from the legend.

"Is the intelligence reliable?" Senzo's skepticism was understandable. "High-ranking officials selling secrets? That's... unusual."

Rei suppressed a bitter smile. Unusual? In a world where loyalty was a commodity and betrayal often paid better than service, such transactions were inevitable. He thought of Hoshigaki Kisame, who would one day abandon his village after watching his superiors sell out mission after mission, until the very concept of loyalty became meaningless.

"Kirigakure has a... complex relationship with information brokering," Minato said diplomatically. "They allow certain intelligence to flow freely—nothing that truly compromises their interests, but enough to muddy the waters for other villages. This particular piece falls into that category."

"Which means half the ninja world has access to the same information," Rei observed, cutting through the euphemisms. "We won't be the only ones hunting this scroll."

Minato nodded grimly. "Exactly why it merited S-rank classification. Prepare yourselves. We leave at dawn."

As the others dispersed, Minato lingered. "Rei, it's been a while. How are you finding guard duty?"

"Educational, if monotonous." Rei appreciated the blonde's easy manner—so different from the rigid protocols that governed most shinobi interactions. "This will be my first S-rank mission."

"Then let me buy you a bowl of ramen. Consider it a pre-mission tradition."

They made their way to Ichiraku's stand, where the owner—still young, still optimistic about his small business—served them steaming bowls. In the growing darkness, surrounded by the familiar sounds of the village settling into evening routines, it was almost possible to forget the violence that awaited them.

---

Far from Konoha's warm lights, in the perpetual gloom of an underground bounty station in Rain Country, death was being priced and packaged.

The proprietor barely looked up when his door opened—until he saw who entered. The figure that stepped into his domain carried the unmistakable aura of someone for whom killing had become as natural as breathing.

Kakuzu's presence filled the cramped space, his bulk accentuated by the large body bag slung over his shoulder. The white cloth wrapping his head and neck, combined with the black mask, left only his eyes visible—dark green irises swimming in blood-red sclera, windows into a soul long since sold to the highest bidder.

"Mr. Kakuzu," the proprietor said, his respectful tone masking the fear that every sensible person felt in the presence of such a predator. "Another delivery?"

"One target, as agreed." Kakuzu's voice carried no warmth, no humanity—just the mechanical efficiency of someone who viewed murder as business.

The body bag hit the table with a wet thud. When unzipped, it released the sweet stench of decomposition that spoke of days spent in the wilderness, of a hunt concluded far from civilization.

"Taochi Onimori," the proprietor confirmed after examining the rotting features. "The noble will be pleased. Three million ryō, as promised."

Money changed hands with practiced efficiency. In this place, death was just another transaction, grief merely an inconvenience to be processed and filed away.

"Any new contracts?" Kakuzu asked, already looking toward his next payday. "Nothing trivial."

The proprietor's eyes lit up with the enthusiasm of a merchant who'd been waiting for the right customer. "Actually, yes. Two months old, but untouched. Nine million ryō."

The bounty sheet made even Kakuzu pause—not from conscience, but from professional interest. The photograph showed a young face, barely past childhood, with dark hair and features that still carried traces of boyish softness.

"Uchiha Rei," Kakuzu read aloud, his voice betraying the first hint of genuine interest he'd shown. "Special jōnin, ANBU operative... eleven years old."

The details that followed painted a picture of prodigious talent: activated Sharingan, mastery of all five chakra natures, victories against legendary Sannin. But it was the final notation that made Kakuzu's pulse quicken—fresh ink on old paper.

'Target en route to former Whirlpool Country ruins.'

"Interesting," he murmured, tearing away the photograph and slipping it into his collection. Another face to memorize, another life to price.

As he left the bounty station, Kakuzu was already calculating travel times and planning ambush sites. Nine million ryō bought a lot of patience—but not too much.

---

Dawn came too soon, as it always did before dangerous missions.

The primeval forest stretched endlessly before them, ancient trees reaching toward a sky barely visible through the canopy. The five-man team moved through this green cathedral with practiced silence, their passage marked only by the occasional rustle of leaves.

"You brought a storage scroll?" Senzo noted, eyeing the equipment Rei carried. "I don't recall you using many thrown weapons."

"We'll be traveling across open ocean to reach the Whirlpool ruins," Rei replied without embarrassment. "I prepared some proper food. Military rations are an insult to the concept of nutrition."

The collective groan from his teammates was audible even over the sound of their movement through the trees.

"Really?" Minato sighed, though there was fond exasperation rather than true annoyance in his voice. He'd known Rei long enough to understand the boy's peculiarities—how someone could demonstrate tactical brilliance in one moment and adolescent pickiness in the next.

When they stopped for their midday meal, Rei's suggestion of roasted chicken was met with resigned acceptance. A search mission like this had time built in—they would either find their target or confirm its absence, and neither outcome was served by rushing.

The process of watching Rei work was almost meditative. Shadow clones handled the preparation with mechanical precision while the original focused on the art of cooking itself. Five chickens turned golden over carefully tended flames, the aroma drawing his teammates like moths to light.

"I remember the Hokage mentioning your culinary skills," Daki admitted, his usual stoicism cracking under the assault of perfectly seasoned poultry. "I didn't expect to experience them firsthand."

Minato's laugh carried the weight of shared memories. "Rei's cooking literally saved my relationship. Kushina's attempts at domestic life were... challenging."

The image of the future Fourth Hokage being defeated by his girlfriend's cooking brought chuckles from the team. It was a reminder that even legends had mundane struggles, human moments that grounded their extraordinary lives.

"Food's ready," Rei announced, stepping back as his teammates descended on the meal with undignified haste.

"Captain Minato's speed is incredible," someone commented as the largest chicken vanished into the blonde's possession.

"Don't underestimate Captain Senzo's reflexes," came the reply around a mouthful of perfectly cooked meat.

"This is amazing," Daki managed between bites.

"Hey!" Gaku protested as he caught Daki stealing one of his drumsticks. "I saw that!"

"Prove it," the larger man replied, already chewing the evidence.

Rei watched this byplay with something approaching wonder. Here were killers trained from childhood, weapons forged by a system that demanded absolute obedience—and they were squabbling over chicken like ordinary people. The masks they wore hid more than faces; they concealed the simple humanity that war tried so desperately to burn away.

People in this world aren't so different, he thought, observing Minato's easy smile and the genuine camaraderie developing between teammates. Minato really is as kind as the stories say.

Around their impromptu feast, barriers came down. Not the tactical ones—those would remain until the mission ended—but the emotional walls that kept shinobi isolated in their roles. For a few precious minutes, they were just five people sharing a meal and each other's company.

It was, Rei realized, exactly the kind of moment that made the darkness ahead bearable. Whatever waited for them in the Whirlpool ruins, whatever enemies stalked their path, this memory would endure—proof that even in a world built on violence, humanity found ways to survive and flourish.

The scroll they sought might contain forbidden knowledge, and the mission might demand blood before its conclusion, but right now, none of that mattered. Right now, there was just good food, better company, and the simple pleasure of being alive to enjoy both.

In the growing shadows of the forest, it would have to be enough.

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