The Unexperienced

As they journeyed on, Yoru muttered quietly to Chien:

"It's as though we're dragging him down, even though he clearly needs our help."

"Well, that's the truth, Yoru!" Chien responded with a resigned smile. "Daimaru and I have been Genin for years, and you're not a rookie anymore either. If we weren't dragging him down, we wouldn't be on the same team."

It was a team of three underachievers, and only Daimaru had a bit of ambition. Whether he admitted it or not, Daimaru was the strongest among them.

"Let's give it another shot, Yoru. Daimaru may not be the kindest of souls, but he wouldn't just abandon us carelessly."

"Is that so?"

"So, we have to keep up. If we fall behind, we can't blame anyone but ourselves!"

Competition was fierce in the Sand Village. Limited resources were prioritized for more talented and promising ninjas. The mediocre ones, essentially given up on, usually met untimely deaths or left the ninja path after years of struggle.

The Leaf Village's stringent one-in-three success rate seemed luxurious compared to the Sand Village's.

...

The Land of Wind was vast, but ninjas traveled fast. It typically took three days to run from the Sand Village to the Leaf Village.

Of course, that was the extreme speed of Might Guy without rest; ordinary ninjas were not nearly as swift.

It took Otofū, Daimaru, Chien, and Yoru five grueling days to barely reach the border of the Land of Wind. Their marching speed was less than a third of Might Guy's, and factoring in stamina, their pace over long distances might have been only a quarter of his – a considerable gap.

"This won't do," Daimaru fretted internally. The gap in basic abilities was just too significant.

Chien had average stamina and speed but took too long to recover; Yoru had decent stamina but her short legs limited her pace.

Daimaru could barely keep up with Otofū, but by the time they reached a town near the Wind Country border, he was too exhausted to take another step.

With no other choice, they spent the night in an inn to recover from their fatigue before officially setting out to take down the bandit gang.

...

The group left the town early in the morning, only to sneak back in disguise.

Otofū transformed into an old man, with Daimaru, Chien, and Yoru disguised as his grandchildren.

"I feel taken advantage of!"

Dressed as a trader from the Grass Country, Daimaru tugged at his unflattering hemp clothing in dissatisfaction.

Chien, now appearing as a civilian farm girl, wore an expression of calm that didn't match her supposed station.

Otofū's elder disguise wasn't much better; he was too spry for his age.

It seemed the Sand Village's training in disguise and infiltration left much to be desired.

Only Yoru, disguised as a little granddaughter, blended perfectly - tiny and innocent, not at all like a ninja.

"Keep it down, Daimaru. You're going to tear the hem of your sleeve," Otofū whispered.

"I can't help it. This outfit is so uncomfortable."

The sun of the Wind Country desert was scorching, threatening to burn any exposed skin.

Thus, the locals dressed to cover every inch. Daimaru's attire, suited for the Grass Country, was inadequate here; his exposed arms were already turning red and itchy.

If this was what the early spring sun did, he couldn't imagine surviving the midday heat of summer dressed like this.

"Why go to all this trouble? Couldn't we gather information in town?"

"You're too inexperienced," Otofū shook his head. "Didn't you find anything odd about this town? Despite its dilapidation and disarray, there's nothing special, right? Although the people are wary of strangers, that's hardly unusual."

As the four walked the streets, nearly identical to the ones they'd traversed earlier, they pretended to be interested in the goods hawked by itinerant merchants.

"Did you see that stall vendor we just passed? That guy's likely a fence for the thieves."

"No way..."

The three Genin were skeptical.

"Don't look back now; it's too conspicuous..."

Otofū stopped his subordinates from revealing their curiosity.

"You Genin have hardly ever left the Land of Wind, let alone come to a borderland. There are nuances here that you won't understand unless you witness them firsthand."

Otofū led his team to a secluded teahouse and chose a corner with fewer people.

Once certain no one was paying attention, he spoke lowly:

"This town is likely one of the bandit gang's strongholds."

"Are you serious?" Daimaru was taken aback. "Are we in the den of thieves?"

"It's not as dramatic as that. We're not in immediate danger."

"So we pretended to leave only to sneak back and take down the thieves when the chance arises?"

"Not exactly," Otofū contradicted Daimaru's assumption. "Many in this town are either family of the bandits or ordinary people on the verge of becoming one. Life on the border is different from the interior..."

Otofū then explained the intricacies to his three subordinates. The Wind and Grass countries didn't have the best of relations, giving rise to buffer zones that neither country managed very strictly.

These areas often shifted with the seasonal rivers and oases. The town they were in, for instance, had been abandoned for a time until traders passing through revived it a few years ago.

Such gray areas bred bandits and marauders, who eventually brought violence to nearby areas.

The residents were mostly civilians from the Grass and Wind countries who could no longer survive in their homelands, with the occasional wandering ninja or destitute samurai passing through.

Life was harsh, and any sign of trouble meant the struggling locals had no livelihood. They either left as refugees or turned to banditry, preying on merchants from both countries to survive.

"Our mission is to eliminate the bandits causing harm. As for the town's intricate ties with the gang, what do you think? Should we lure out the bandits and end it, or trace the clues and capture everyone involved?"

After some thought, Daimaru said:

"Is this also a test of our mission, Captain?"

"You could say that," Otofū nodded. "How far we take this mission is a matter of our own conscience. This town's residents are hardly innocent; even the crying babies are fed with money stolen by their elders. When they grow up, they have nowhere to turn but to become the next generation of bandits."