That Is A Lie!

A whole month had slipped by since Team 8's formation, and the word 'routine' had come to summarize their experience. Their missions were basic, without any real challenge or excitement. It seemed that the group, along with their esteemed Jounin mentors, Samui and Mabui, was longing for adventure that pushed their boundaries and tested their mettle.

Ryomaru sprawled out on a grassy patch, staring at the sky. "Honestly, I thought our missions would be a tad bit more... thrilling," he mused aloud.

Temari, seated next to him, sighed heavily, fidgeting with her fan. "I was hoping for some bandit-chasing, at the very least."

Hinata, typically reserved and patient, voiced her agreement. "It's been quite mundane. I was hoping to challenge myself more."

Hanabi looked at her sister and added, "Same. We're ready for bigger tasks."

From a distance, Samui and Mabui watched the young shinobi. Mabui whispered, "They're itching for real-world experience, aren't they?"

Samui nodded, her own desire for action evident in her eyes. "They're more than capable. It's a shame they're held back."

Ryomaru, overhearing their conversation, sat up. "It's not that we're ungrateful, but we want to grow, to see the world beyond these simple tasks."

Mabui approached them, offering a gentle smile. "We understand, Ryomaru. We'll talk to the Hokage. It's time Team 8 takes on more challenging missions."

Samui added, "Hunting down bandits, protecting merchants, even confronting rogue shinobi... these are the missions that will help you all grow as true shinobi."

Temari's eyes shone with anticipation. "That's what we're talking about!"

Hanabi grinned. "And we'll prove that we're more than ready."

Ryomaru's ice-blue eyes twinkling, exclaimed, "Let's go!"

As the sun began its descent, painting the village in hues of orange and pink, Team 8, along with Samui and Mabui, made their way to the Hokage's Office. The anticipation in the air was palpable, with each step resonating with their determination.

Upon reaching the ornate entrance of the Hokage's quarters, Ryomaru rapped gently on the door, waiting for a response. A familiar voice beckoned, "Enter."

Pushing the door open, they were greeted by the sight of the venerable Hokage, Sarutobi, who sat behind his grand desk, surrounded by mountains of paperwork. His face broke into a genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ah, Team 8! To what do I owe this visit?"

Ryomaru, wearing a grin that mirrored his inner resolve, stepped forward. "Hokage-sama," he began confidently, "we believe it's time for our team to venture out, truly challenge ourselves. We request a Seek and Destroy or Protection mission."

Samui and Mabui nodded in affirmation, standing in support behind their young charges.

Sarutobi leaned back, his fingers steepled in contemplation. He looked them over, pondering the request. "You've completed nearly sixty D-rank missions in just a month," he mused aloud. "Impressive."

Hanabi chimed in, her voice carrying a hint of pride, "We're eager to prove ourselves, Hokage-sama."

The Hokage's gaze fell on a particular scroll on his desk. He picked it up, glancing at its seal. "An escort mission to the Wave Country," he murmured. After a few moments of silence, he met Ryomaru's expectant eyes, "It may not be what you specifically asked for, but it's a start."

Ryomaru nodded appreciatively, "We'll take it."

Sarutobi's eyes twinkled with approval. "Very well. Return here in an hour, and I will introduce you to the client."

The room buzzed with the team's excitement. Hinata offered a grateful bow, her voice soft, "Thank you, Hokage-sama."

As the group turned to exit, Temari couldn't help but quip, "Wave Country, here we come!"

Samui placed a reassuring hand on Ryomaru's shoulder, "This is just the beginning, kid. Adventure awaits."

The swift passage of time found Team 8 standing again outside the Hokage's chamber, eagerly waiting to meet their client for the upcoming mission. Upon entering, their eyes landed on an old man with silver hair, glasses perched low on his nose, and a disheveled look that hinted at intoxication.

Ryomaru's gaze, however, was immediately drawn to the man's slightly swaying stance, a clear indication of his drunken state. The old man's eyes scanned the young team before him, and he blurted out, not bothering to mask his skepticism, "Bunch of kids? Is this some kind of joke?"

Samui and Mabui exchanged knowing glances, a hint of amusement hidden in their eyes. Hanabi's lips tightened in a frown, clearly irritated by the man's audacity. "We are not children," she retorted, her pride evident.

Temari, her hands on her hips, responded sarcastically, "Nice to meet you too."

Hinata's fingers played nervously with the hem of her cloak, but her gaze was determined, clearly unhappy with the dismissive reception. "We've trained hard and are more than capable," she defended.

While the scene unfolded, Ryomaru found himself wrestling with an unanticipated emotion. An inexplicable familiarity washed over him as he stared at the man, conjuring a fleeting image in his mind: a masked figure, its gaze intent on him. The vision felt significant, as though he should recognize this figure, but he couldn't place it. The sensation caused his head to pound, making him momentarily dizzy.

Sensing his discomfort, Mabui stepped forward, her voice firm, "Hokage-sama, we trust your judgment in pairing us with this mission. We'll ensure its completion."

The Hokage, Sarutobi, met the team's collective gaze. "I believe in you all. Prove yourselves not to me, but to the very villagers you've sworn to protect."

The old man, realizing he might've misjudged, cleared his throat, trying to mask his earlier disdain, "I need safe passage to the Wave Country. Can you handle that?Just couple of bandits." He muttered the last part to himself, barely audible.

As he stared intently at the elder, Ryomaru felt like he could see beyond what was spoken. It was as if a sixth sense had awakened within him, enabling him to peer through the layers of deception. The weight in the old man's gaze spoke volumes, and Ryomaru was certain he was withholding the entire truth from them. For what purpose? That remained a mystery. But as his thoughts churned, the image of the masked man flashed in his mind once more. That enigmatic figure, hidden behind the facade, seemed to be intertwined in this web of intrigue. Who was he? Was there a connection between him, their current mission, and the old man? Why was it that Ryomaru could visualize the face beneath the mask so vividly? The questions loomed, clouding his thoughts with uncertainty. Ryomaru's eyes sharpened, his voice resolute as he addressed the old man, "That's a lie."

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