As much as he was fond of the great outdoors, there was no joy in the last leg of his journey. Not sleeping for two days was not something Takuma couldn’t bear, but with the travel and the refugee camp incident, his brain felt like a searing mess, and his muscles felt like lead had been pumped into them.

The beauty of the countryside didn’t mesmerize him; the heaviness of his boots caked with mud didn’t irritate him. Nothing mattered as he ran across the foreign lands to fight a war that had nothing to do with his nation.

He couldn’t shut his brain down and mindlessly run. The events of the past two days swam around his mind, refusing to leave. He couldn’t help but think about Takashi and the two families he had spent time with. All of them were good people. Takashi was so elated to return home, and the children were the bright spot in the two families’ tents even when the times were rough—none of them were alive now.

‘I should’ve killed him.’

As he recalled the prisoner, he felt a raging, burning sensation in his heart. The man’s begging was akin to nails against a chalkboard. There were so many times he wanted to end the man’s life for the sins he had committed, but Taro’s mom’s words kept him from displaying any of his true feelings during the investigation.

‘—The suspect cannot ever be allowed to see frustration or difficulty in the interrogator’s eyes. The moment they see that, the control passes over to their hand—’

She was the one Takuma always called for difficult interrogations, and because her services cost so much money, he was always there in the co-joined room with members of his team to observe her process through the one-sided window to get a learning experience out of it. The little he knew; it came from her.

Takuma pushed his anger down as he saw tall earthen walls come into view.

He had arrived at his destination.

His destination, the camp, was once a village that had been vacated due to the danger from the Land of Frost forces who had breached the border and occupied the Land of Hot Water’s territory.

Due to the infrastructure and its strategic position, the shinobi forces had now occupied the village as their base of operation. Takuma couldn’t help but recall Miwa’s recollection of her own village and how this village was once home to people.

Takuma slowed down to a walk as a giant gate made from tall tree logs came into view. It was partially open, giving him a peek of the village inside. As he approached the gates, he noticed two guards standing guard with one more guard on the wall—half of his body covered by the wall—making it seem he was standing on a platform attached to the wall.

“Halt, identify yourself,” shouted one of the guards. Both the guards wore Hidden Leaf shinobi uniforms.

“Genin Takuma, Hidden Leaf, reporting for duty,” Takuma said.

The two guards exchanged glances.

“We weren’t informed about any arrivals today.”

“I have documents.” Takuma wasn’t in the mood to argue. After getting the permission, he took out a transparent pouch with his important documents. He handed them the documents necessary to prove his identity and deployment order.

“People are usually deployed in groups. Why are you alone… Genin Takuma?” asked the guard, reading his documents.

Takuma pointed to the cane strapped to the side of his bag along with his hand-ax. “An injury postponed my deployment.”

The guard hummed. “Wait here. I will go get these documents verified. Don’t cause any trouble.”

The guards showed not a hint of hospitality from their actions, expressions, and body language. As the guard disappeared behind the gates, the second guard stood in his post, his vigilant eye fixed on Takuma. Takuma felt another gaze on him and glanced up at the wall. The shinobi atop the wall was gazing down at him; he had a kunai with an explosive tag dangling from his hand.

The two guards made Takuma feel tense. He would have tried to chat with them, but he felt exhausted, so he sat down on the ground beside his backpack. He emptied his canteen in one big gulp and then stared at the ground, waiting for the guard to return.

It took the guard ten minutes to return.

“Your documents checked out, and your arrival has been verified. Welcome to Camp Banana, Genin Takuma,” announced the guard. He had a smile on his face this time.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The other guard eased; smiles appeared on his face. The guard on the wall pulled his kunai back and gave Takuma a wave.

The sudden change in attitude was surprising, but for some reason, it put him at ease; the guards were taking their jobs to keep the camp safe seriously. Takuma stood up and shook the guards’ hands as they introduced themselves to him. The second guard even patted him on the back as the first guard led him into Camp Banana.

“Camp Banana has two Hidden Leaf jonin as its command,” the guard started as they walked across the village.

Takuma saw houses, shops, flattened roads, carts, barrels, hay stacks, and everything one would expect in a small village—and the village didn’t seem abandoned as shinobi had replaced the villagers.

“I’m taking you to meet Jonin Toridasu— Toridasu Kossori.”

“Will I be serving under him?” asked Takuma.

“You will be a part of his chain of command,” the guard nodded. “The other jonin is Jonin Shirakumo Hayama. Both jonin have their own chain of commands serving under them, and for the most part, they both operate independently, but Jonin Toridasu holds the final say in critical matters and disputes.”

Takuma furrowed his brow. Two jonin sharing the command? He found it unusual. A chain of command needed to be clear so people knew who to report to. Even though the Narcotics Taskforce was small and a flat hierarchy would’ve worked, Takuma had installed a clear chain of command to establish some structure in the inexperienced group. Having two jonin share power didn’t seem efficient, and he could see things go wrong even if one of the jonin held a higher authority.

“You will only report to Jonin Toridasu’s chain of command. Understood?” said the guard.

Takuma replied in affirmation.

He was then led into a two-story building near the village center. A Hidden Leaf shinobi sat on a desk opposite the door. The woman looked up at the guard and then at Takuma.

“Are you Genin Takuma?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Takuma.

“Jonin Toridasu will see you now. Head in,” the woman pointed to a door.

Takuma thanked the guard, took a deep breath, put on his forehead protector, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” said the voice.

Takuma stepped inside the jonin’s office and was immediately surprised because he actually recognized the man.

“Genin Takuma,” Jonin Toridasu without any niceties, “I must say that I don’t have a stellar first impression of you. You’re not late, but I expected you to arrive at least a day early—that much should be common sense. I require a certain standard from subordinates, and I hope that you will be able to withhold that standard.”

The man looked he had already stepped across fifty. He had a bald head, a round face, and a pudgy body. While every shinobi he had passed wore the uniform, Toridasu wore a flashy dark red kimono with a wood-brown haori over it. The kimono was tied using a sash with the Hidden Leaf forehead protector sewn in the front.

“My apologies, sir. I intended to arrive yesterday, but an incident delayed me,” said Takuma. His heart felt heavy. He hadn’t been in the camp for an hour, and his commanding officer’s impression of him was already less than optimal.

“And what might that incident be?” said Toridasu, his eyes said: ‘This better not be an excuse.’

“A refugee camp I was using as a rest point was attacked while I was staying there. I had to delay my journey as I helped manage the situation,” Takuma replied. He was ready to explain it all even though he had no desire to talk about it.

“I know about the attack. It was part of today’s information packet,” Toridasu looked surprised. “And you’re saying you were involved? How would that be?”

“I was present during the incursion and was involved in subduing the intruders.” Takuma started. “Out of the five intruders, we were able to secure one for interrogation. After the initial chaos settled, I interrogated the prisoner for information. The interrogation tied me up that I had to delay my schedule.”

“You interrogated the prisoner? Ah, you have a Police Force background,” Toridasu nodded. “Walk me through it. The packet must’ve been sent out early; it didn’t have any mentions of extracted intel.”

Takuma walked Toridasu through the process and the intel he had extracted. Toridasu listened without interrupting until the end.

“This is troubling,” Toridasu sighed. “The incident would put pressure on us to be aggressive in territory reclamation… I will have to discuss this with Hayama,” he muttered the last sentence. “It seems I was wrong about you, Genin Takuma. You did good. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and I welcome you to Camp Banana.”

“Thank you, sir,” Takuma bowed. “But we have met once before, sir.”

“Oh? I don’t remember meeting you though, Genin Takuma.”

“It was for a very short time, but you were the invigilator for my Academy Graduation Exam. You had asked me a trick question about how many shinobi stood in the exam hall—one of them was sitting.”

Toridasu stared at Takuma for a moment.

“I think I vaguely remember you; it has been many years. But what a coincidence for us to meet here. That was the only year I volunteered to oversee the academy graduation examinations,” said Toridasu.

“Jina!” called Toridasu.

A moment later, the woman shinobi from before walked in.

“Please introduce Genin Takuma to his chunin team leader.” Toridasu turned to Takuma. “You will be serving under her. Get yourself familiar with the team; they will be your family while you are in this camp.”

The genin named Jina led Takuma through the village. She didn’t say a word to him, but neither did Takuma initiate the conversation. He was tired, but knew that his first impression on his team was important, so he built up his energy so he could at least force himself to be his normal self until he had a chance to rest.

In the western part of the village, there was a residential area.

Jina and Takuma stopped in front of a single-story home. She walked to the door and knocked.

“Chunin Mitarashi! Genin Takuma, your new subordinate, has arrived,” she shouted.

‘Mitarashi?’ Takuma wondered where he heard that family name.

“Pipe down, no need to break the door down,” a woman’s voice came from inside. “I’m coming out. Give me a moment, for god’s sake.”

Jina sighed before stepping back.

A few moments later, the door opened, and a young woman in her late teens stepped out of the house. She was an average-sized woman with a slender frame. She had light brown eyes. Her hair was of a dull violet color, styled in a short, spiky, fanned-out ponytail.

“Oh, so you’re Takuma, huh,” she said. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mitarashi Anko. Let’s get along, right?”