After many days of grueling travel, Team Okura finally emerged from the dense, dangerous forest that guarded the Iwagakure border like a sleeping beast. The journey had tested their endurance, but now the silhouette of the Iwa outpost stood firm before them, wrapped in twilight's shadows. It was the place they had been assigned to return to… and the place where their quiet suspicions began.
The sky was already darkening as the trio moved with purpose toward the center of the outpost. Okura, the team's calm and focused leader, glanced briefly at the small, wrapped package tucked inside her pouch. She double-checked that it was intact. Whatever this was, it was important—and dangerous.
"All right, let's go," Okura said quietly to her two teammates, Iwame and Zato.
As they walked through the narrow paths between the tents and stone walls, an unsettling chill gripped their spines—not from the cold mountain air, but from the way other shinobi glanced at them. It was as if, somehow, they were being watched... as if they didn't belong. Maybe it was just the nerves. Or maybe it was because they had seen something they were never supposed to witness.
Arriving at the command tent, Okura stood firmly before it and called out.
"Unit Leader, we've completed our mission."
A pause followed. The flickering light of a lantern inside the tent cast soft shadows against the canvas. A moment later, the flap rustled open, and a tall man stepped out. The Jonin in charge of the outpost—their superior—stood with an air of laziness, though his eyes held a cunning glint.
"Team Okura?" he muttered, surprised. "I wasn't expecting you today. I figured it'd take at least one more day."
"We traveled fast," Okura responded evenly, careful to keep her expression neutral.
"I hope you were cautious along the way," the Jonin said, his voice syrupy and smooth, though the warmth behind his words felt false. "It would be a shame if something happened to such a… young team."
Okura narrowed her eyes slightly. "We were prudent. We made it through safely."
"The man we were instructed to meet gave us something to deliver," she added, her voice calm but firm.
"Oh?" the Jonin raised an eyebrow. "Did he say anything else about it?"
"He only said to give it to you." Okura smiled, though it was as fake as the one she received.
She pulled out the package and handed it over.
The Jonin extended his arm, taking the parcel without hesitation. He slipped it into his pocket with practiced ease. "Thank you for completing the mission so quickly," he said, turning away.
Without another word, he disappeared back into his tent.
As soon as he was out of sight, Okura's calm mask slipped for a second. "He doesn't suspect a thing," she whispered.
The team turned and walked back to their tent, the tension heavy in the air between them. They had seen too much. What should have been a routine mission had revealed something darker—something about that package, about the man they'd met, about this Jonin.
Once inside their tent, they gathered around the small wooden table in the center. A single lantern glowed dimly above them, casting long shadows across their faces.
"We need a plan," Okura said.
Zato leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "So, what do we do?"
"The situation is… dangerous," Iwame muttered. "We can't just report a Jonin for suspicious behavior. Not without proof. And especially not if it involves money or secrets."
"It's probably information he's selling," Okura said, her eyes serious. "But we have nothing solid to prove it."
"What if we report it anyway?" Zato suggested. "Maybe the commander will open an investigation."
Okura shook her head. "If it leads to nothing, it'll backfire on us. We'll be accused of slandering a superior."
"Then what?" Iwame asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "We can't just sit here."
"We need someone with real authority. Someone who'd listen," Okura said, thinking aloud. "Someone we can trust."
Zato's eyes lit up. "Hey… do either of your parents work in high positions in Iwa?"
Okura and Iwame turned and stared at him like he had grown a second head.
"…Right. Dumb question," Zato muttered, scratching the back of his head. "But I might have an idea. It's a bit crazy, though."
"Say it," Okura ordered.
"Back when we were selected for the Chūnin Exams by the Tsuchikage," Zato began, "remember how he personally gave each of us a scroll with a special technique? He even talked to us. Maybe… just maybe, we could reach out to him."
"What?! Are you insane?" Okura nearly shouted. "That's not just some Jonin or commander. That's the Tsuchikage—the leader of our entire village! And you think we can just drop him a message saying one of his own is a traitor?"
"Do you have a better idea?" Zato countered.
Iwame leaned back, arms crossed. "Honestly… it's a long shot, but it's all we've got."
Okura exhaled slowly. "Fine. But how would we even get a message to him?"
"Well…" Iwame said cautiously, "we do have messenger pigeons at the outpost. I know a Chūnin who handles them. If we ask, maybe he'll help."
"Would he agree?" Okura asked.
"No idea. But we have to try," Iwame replied.
Zato nodded. "We'll do it tonight—less chance of being seen."
As midnight fell over the outpost, the three young shinobi slipped out of their tent under the cover of darkness. The moon hung above like a watchful eye. Iwame led the way through the quiet rows of tents until they stopped in front of a small one.
"Pssst… Hey! Wake up!" he whispered, tapping on the tent.
A sleepy voice groaned from within. "Ugh… Iwame? What the hell do you want?"
A young Chūnin with messy hair and bags under his eyes poked his head out.
"We need your help. It's important—for the safety of Iwagakure," Iwame whispered.
The Chūnin blinked slowly, half-asleep. "Okay… what do you want?"
"We need you to send a message. By pigeon," Iwame said.
"That's it? Fine. Who's it for?"
"…The Tsuchikage," Iwame said carefully.
The Chūnin froze. "…What? You know what, I don't even want to know. Sounds like trouble."
"So… you'll do it?" Iwame asked.
"Yeah, yeah. But no promises it reaches him directly. The message has to go through his staff first. Might get filtered."
"It'll reach him," Iwame said firmly. "It has to."
"Fine. Give me the message. I'll send it in the morning."
With that, Team Okura handed over their sealed scroll and quietly made their way back to their tent, their hearts pounding but their resolve stronger than ever.