Kakashi approached the water’s edge and knelt to analyze the smoking debris. The calm had been shattered, and with it, the jōnin’s lazy demeanor. With the tip of a kunai, he extracted a small, twisted fragment of metal from a piece of floating wood.

He examined it for a second, his single visible eye narrowing. Then, he stood up and walked unhurriedly toward Tazuna. The bridge builder was on the ground, pale as a ghost. The sake bottle had fallen from his hand, its contents spilling uselessly onto the dirt. The drunken smile and bravado had vanished from his face. The reality he had tried to deny and hide had just blown up in his face.

Kakashi didn’t yell. He didn’t threaten him. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet, almost conversational, which made it infinitely more terrifying.

“Tazuna-san,” he began, opening his hand to show the shiny, deformed piece of metal. “The lies are over.”

Tazuna looked at him with wild eyes, trembling uncontrollably. He tried to form words, but only an incoherent babble came out.

“This,” Kakashi continued, his tone flat and cutting, “is a fragment of a military-grade explosive tag. The trap was activated by a submerged chakra thread, designed to detonate on contact. It’s clean, professional work. And very expensive.”

Kurenai walked over, crossing her arms. Her usual maternal warmth had been replaced by an analytical coldness. “Forest bandits and thugs use rusty axes and clubs, Mr. Tazuna. They don’t invest in equipment of this quality. Professional assassins do.”

“You lied to us,” Kakashi concluded, his gaze fixed on the bridge builder. “And that lie almost cost one of my students her life.”

The circle of genin closed in a little tighter around him, their gazes heavy with judgment.

“You could have gotten me killed,” Sakura said, her voice trembling slightly, not from fear, but from contained anger. “Don’t you even care?”

“Start talking, old man!” Kiba barked, stepping forward, Akamaru growling by his side. “Or I swear I’ll have Akamaru bite the answers out of you!”

“Pathetic,” Sasuke hissed, his disdain unconcealed. “Endangering an entire Konoha team just to save some money.”

Tazuna tried one last bluff, his voice a desperate croak.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about! They must be very clever bandits! Maybe they stole the equipment from some ninja! I’m just a simple bridge builder! A poor old man!”

“STOP LYING!”

Naruto’s shout was so sudden and so charged with frustration that it made Tazuna flinch as if he’d been struck.

“You almost got Sakura-chan killed! You almost got us all killed!” Naruto continued, stepping forward until he was inches from the old man’s face. “We believed in you! We were protecting you! We deserve to know why we’re really risking our lives!”

The direct accusation, the pure, undeniable truth in the boy’s voice, was what finally broke the old builder. His tough, stubborn facade shattered, revealing the terrified man beneath. He collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with sobs that seemed to come from the depths of his soul.

“I’m sorry!” he wailed, tears carving channels through the dirt on his weathered face. “I’m truly sorry! I had no other choice… I was out of options.”

And then, the story poured out of him. It was a torrent of pent-up desperation and suffering, a confession torn from him by fear and guilt. He spoke of his home, the Land of Waves, a once-proud nation, now economically strangled by a tyrannical and ruthless shipping magnate named Gatō. He told them how Gatō, a man with more money than scruples, had seized control of all shipping lanes, becoming the sole master of everything that entered or left the island. With his monopoly, he had plunged his people into a suffocating poverty where hope was a luxury few could afford.

“The bridge…” he said, his voice choked with tears as he gestured vaguely toward the horizon. “The bridge is our only hope. It’s the only way to break his monopoly, to connect our island to the mainland, and to give freedom and a future back to our people, to my grandchildren.”

He looked up, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the young ninjas’ faces. “That’s why Gatō wants to stop me. He wants to kill me. Because that bridge isn’t just wood and stone… it’s a direct threat to his empire of greed.”

Sasuke let out a disdainful snort, his pragmatism unmoved by the man’s tragedy. “So why lie about the mission’s rank? If the enemy is that powerful, deceiving your protectors is illogical. It’s suicide.”

“BECAUSE I’M POOR!” Tazuna shouted, slamming his fist into the ground with what little strength he had left. The sound was dull, pathetic. “My country is poor! We’ve been bled dry! We couldn’t afford a B-Rank mission or higher! Hiring a C-Rank mission already used up every last saving from my village, every coin we could scrape together!”

He looked at Kakashi, his eyes pleading, desperate.

“But I never thought it would come to this! I swear on my grandson’s life! Gatō is a miser, a first-class cheapskate! He’s a businessman, not a warlord! I thought he’d send a couple of thugs, low-level muscle to scare me! Maybe some masterless samurai! Never, not in my worst nightmares, did I imagine he would spend a fortune to hire expert ninja just to kill an old builder! It was a miscalculation! A terrible mistake that almost cost all of you your lives! I’m sorry! Please, I’m so sorry!”

He remained there, kneeling and sobbing, a broken man who had gambled everything on a lie and lost in the worst way possible.

The silence that followed was thick. Naruto’s fury dissipated like morning fog, replaced by a wave of empathy. To fight for your home, for your people, to be acknowledged… it was something he understood to his core.

Sakura glanced at Hinata, and in the Hyuga girl’s lavender eyes, she saw the same compassion she felt in her own heart. Even Kiba had stopped growling, merely looking away, uncomfortable.

Kakashi and Kurenai stepped a few feet away, their conversation a low, professional murmur, out of the genin’s earshot.

“The protocol is clear, Kakashi,” Kurenai said, her face serious, leaving no room for ambiguity. “Mission compromised, dishonest client, threat level B at minimum. We should abort, return to the village, and report to the Hokage. That’s what the rules dictate.”

“The rules were written for ideal situations,” Kakashi replied, his gaze fixed on the river darkening with twilight. “Going back would take days. We’re already in enemy territory, and worse, they’ve found us. Our route back will be compromised. We’d almost certainly be ambushed on the way. Retreating now could be even more dangerous than pressing on.”

“And what do you propose? We continue?” Kurenai arched an eyebrow. “With six genin who just had their first brush with real death? Naruto is a powder keg, Sasuke a razor without a handle. My team… they’re specialists, not front-line fighters. It’s a huge risk, Kakashi. Unacceptable, some on the council would say.”

“It is,” Kakashi admitted without hesitation. “It’s a huge risk. But…” His gaze fell upon his students. He saw Sakura place a calming hand on Naruto’s arm, his anger soothed by the gesture. He saw Hinata offering her canteen to a still-tense Kiba, who accepted it with a grunt that almost sounded like thanks. He saw Sasuke, standing apart, watching Tazuna, his anger replaced by a cold, calculating focus. “They’re not the same genin who left the village a few days ago, Kurenai. They’ve been tested by fire. And they haven’t broken.”

Kurenai followed his gaze, evaluating each of the young ninja. She saw the fear, yes, but she also saw something else: a steely determination, a cohesion forged in danger. She nodded slowly, a decision forming in her eyes.

“Alright. We’ll continue,” she said, her voice firm. “But under new rules. Our rules.”

They turned and walked back to the group. The atmosphere shifted instantly. The genin straightened, their faces expectant. Kakashi spoke, his voice no longer that of a relaxed sensei, but of a commander on the battlefield.

“Listen up. The situation has changed drastically. Tazuna’s lie has put us in an extremely dangerous position. But the decision has been made. We will continue the mission to protect him until the bridge is finished.”

A murmur of relief and tension rippled through the genin. No one wanted to quit, but the fear was a palpable undercurrent.

“But let me be absolutely clear,” Kurenai continued, her tone as sharp as Kakashi’s, cutting through any hint of complacency. “This is no longer a C-Rank escort mission. Forget the rank. This is a high-risk protection detail in hostile territory. From this moment on, we assume every shadow is an enemy and every silence is an ambush. Blind trust is over. Only constant vigilance and teamwork will keep us alive.”

“The next step is crossing the river by boat. That will be our most vulnerable moment,” Kakashi explained, his gaze passing over each of them, assigning roles with a military precision that left no room for doubt. “We’ll be exposed, a slow target, and on the water—the perfect terrain for a Water-style jutsu specialist. We need 360-degree coverage, no blind spots. Every one of you has a vital role.”

His gaze landed on Hinata. She flinched but held her ground, straightening her back.

“Hinata.”

“Yes, sensei!” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was steady.

“Your Byakugan will be our eyes in the rear. Your vision is everything. You are our lookout. Nothing—not a bird, not a leaf, not a ripple in the water—will approach us from behind without you seeing it first. The entire team’s life could depend on your watchfulness.”

Hinata swallowed hard, the immense gravity of her responsibility settling on her. She nodded, her knuckles white from how tightly she clenched her fists. “Understood.”

“Naruto,” Kakashi continued, his tone permitting no argument. “Your job is to protect Hinata. You will stay by her side; you will be her shadow. If anyone attacks our rear, you are the first and only line of defense. Your sole mission is to ensure that nothing and no one interrupts her vision. Don’t get distracted. Don’t attack on your own. Your objective is her. Understood?”

“Got it!” Naruto replied, his face a mask of seriousness. He looked at Hinata, and she saw a silent, fierce promise in his eyes. He would not fail.

“Sasuke, Sakura,” Kurenai said, taking over. “You two will stick to Tazuna. One on each side. He is the primary target. You are his human shields. If a kunai flies toward him, you intercept it. If an enemy appears, you neutralize them. Do not leave his side under any circumstances, not for a second.”

“My side,” Sasuke said simply, glancing at Sakura.

“Understood,” she replied, nodding. Their dynamic had changed in a matter of minutes. They were no longer an Uchiha and his admirer; they were two links in a defensive chain.

“Kiba, Akamaru,” Kakashi ordered. “Your noses and ears are our first alert against non-chakra traps or threats hidden by scent or sound. You will cover the port flank, the left side of the boat. I want you to alert us to anything out of the ordinary: the smell of wet metal, the sound of a branch breaking on the shore, anything.”

“Leave it to me and Akamaru!” Kiba barked, filled with renewed confidence. “Nothing’s getting past us!” Akamaru yapped in agreement.

“Shino,” Kurenai concluded, addressing the quietest member of the group. “Your kikaichū insects will scout ahead of us and to the starboard, the right flank. They will be our silent scouts, our first line of reconnaissance. I need you to keep one swarm underwater and another patrolling the fog ahead. Your control is critical.”

Shino simply inclined his head in a nod. A low, audible buzz emanated from his collar, the silent confirmation that his insects were already receiving their orders.

The orders were given. The roles assigned. They were no longer two genin teams with their respective senseis. They were a combat unit with a clear mission and an unseen enemy waiting for them.

Twilight had stained the sky a deep violet by the time they reached the dock. It was little more than a rotting wooden pier jutting into the dark water. A silent old boatman waited for them in a small rowboat, a hooded, hunched figure who seemed a part of the mist rising lazily from the water.

The team prepared to board, the silence between them now one of shared focus, not discomfort. Each mentally reviewed their role, their position.

Hinata was the first to approach the shore, her white eyes already glowing with a pale lavender hue as she activated her Byakugan, scanning the mist that shrouded the opposite bank. Her face was pale, not from fear, but from the strain of keeping her dōjutsu active.

Naruto walked up and stood beside her, placing himself between her and the rest of the world. The loud energy that defined him was gone, replaced by a quiet, protective seriousness.

“Hey, Hinata,” he said softly, just loud enough for her to hear.

She turned to look at him, her white eyes luminous in the growing darkness, the veins around her temples pronounced from using the Byakugan.

“Don’t worry about anything else,” he continued, his voice a firm, quiet vow. “Just focus on watching. I’m right behind you. I won’t let anything get near you. I promise.”

His promise wasn’t a boast. It wasn’t the brag of a boy trying to impress someone. It was an oath. Hinata looked at him, and a small but determined smile touched her lips. She didn’t need words. She nodded once, a gesture that said it all: “I trust you.”

One by one, they boarded the boat, taking their designated positions in a disciplined, practiced silence. Kiba and Akamaru crouched on the left side. Shino sat on the opposite side, still as a statue. Sasuke and Sakura flanked a visibly trembling Tazuna, their gazes constantly sweeping the banks. And in the stern, Hinata stood like a ghostly sentry, with Naruto at her back, her silent guardian. Kakashi and Kurenai positioned themselves at the bow, their postures hiding a predator’s tension.

The boatman pushed off from the shore with his pole. The small vessel glided soundlessly over the dark water and into the thick, cold fog that blanketed the river, a small bastion of Konoha ninja heading toward an unknown danger. The mission, at last, had truly begun