I was taken into the back — not impressive, just a small room with a table and two chairs, mostly a place to discuss jobs or count money.
"So, Kaguya-hime, as I said, you've become more popular, and a few custom jobs have appeared. Now — and I warn you — sometimes these are traps, so we take no responsibility if that should happen," he stressed as he sat down.
"I can handle myself," I shot back, short and cold.
He raised his hands in surrender. "Oh yes, I don't doubt that. We just have to cover ourselves. These jobs usually pay well, though the risk and danger are often higher."
That he felt the need to warn me at all surprised me; clearly these jobs weren't safe. One warning was more than most received for an S-rank contract, and here I had two before accepting anything.
Rogue shinobi moved around in secret, rarely letting themselves be tracked; few people, if any, knew where they were at a given time. A custom job meant whoever posted it would know when and where someone would be — the perfect moment for an ambush.
The risk seemed far higher than it ought to be for anyone worried about traps. With my Byakugan I would spot them long before they triggered, and with my strength few could threaten me. The war was over; Madara was no doubt dead, his power fading into history.
It would be years before Pain rose in full; without rivals like that, very few could challenge the current me. I had powerful taijutsu and enough chakra to throw around ninjutsu without worry. I wasn't invisible, but those who could push me weren't the kind to ambush rogue shinobi.
"What kind of missions are we talking about?" I asked, curious how people imagined me.
The broker smiled faintly — a grin that mixed unease and profit. He opened a small wooden box, its lid creaking as he pulled out a bundle of scrolls tied with different colored strings.
"Let's see…" he said, sorting through them. "We've got a few… interesting requests this week. The kind that make even me nervous. Seems people are getting ambitious with who they want dead — or protected."
He placed three scrolls on the table, spreading them like cards in a gamble.
"The first," he tapped the scroll tied with red string, "is a noble from Frost Country. Wants someone eliminated — an accountant who embezzled from his coffers. It pays well, but Frost is crawling with minor clans trying to prove themselves, so expect interference. Could turn messy."
He moved to the second scroll, wrapped in simple black twine. "This one's from Grass. Straightforward bounty recovery. But —" he paused, eyes narrowing. "Grass has its own shinobi and they're struggling financially, so this one is highly suspicious."
My lips thinned and my eyes narrowed at his suspicion; he was right to doubt it. Grass — a minor village that had suffered heavily during the last war as both Iwa and Konoha targeted them — had defected to Iwa at the war's start and never gained much respect. They'd fought Suna, suffered massive losses, and had little to begin with.
A village on the brink of collapse — how could they afford my fee? If the job was beyond their own shinobi, they'd likely hire Konoha, or use the black market for a general contract, which would be cheaper than a custom job.
"What's your opinion?" I asked.
He leaned back, hand twitching. His lips rolled; he clearly wanted a cigarette, but he held back in front of me. "My personal opinion is that this is no good. It's far too suspicious, and the reward isn't worth even a tenth of the risk."
I nodded quietly. His reasoning was sound. If Grass didn't have the money to throw around, something else must be behind it.
He tapped the sealed, white-waxed scroll as if it might bite. The paper smelled faintly of salt and something floral — an exotic scent the broker couldn't name.
"Escort," he read aloud from the short mission detail. "Meeting point only. North bridge outside Yugakure. Two nights from now. You go; they tell you the rest."
I snorted. He snorted too. This one reeked of wrong. While I expected to pick up escort work sometimes — clients who couldn't trust their own villages — this wasn't a normal escort. No names. No details. Nobles loved to advertise their importance; merchants insisted on terms. This was too vague.
I was almost tempted to take it just because of how obviously wrong it was, but I had better things to do than play with fools. Then again, what if I didn't take it? Would whoever posted it simply find another escort?
And if they didn't need one, why request me? Anyone with half a brain could see something was off. I honestly wondered if anyone would fall for it, or if they hoped my pride would make me walk straight into a trap out of spite.
Overall, the three missions weren't exciting: either clear traps or, like the first, not worth the long trip to a frozen land. Still, I felt tempted by Grass. It was likely a trap, but the village had at most a few Tokubetsu Jōnin — hardly enough to trouble me. It was weak, but defeating them could spread my name. Very tempting.
I let the broker drone on a little longer, watching him arrange the scrolls like a worried gambler. The Grass mission had teeth — not the kind that would bite my hand off, but the kind that left a mark in the right ledger.
"Fine," I said at last. The single word was soft as silk but final as a blade. The broker blinked, hope and dread written across his face. "Give me Grass."
"Are you sure?" he asked, surprise plain. We both knew it was a trap; he couldn't figure why I'd walk into one.
He swallowed hard, voice dropping into something between respect and fear. "You're either the bravest or the most arrogant woman I've ever met."
"Both," I said evenly, tilting my head slightly. "But both come from my strength."
Arrogance and bravery can be foolish or justified. To be brave is to walk toward danger with your head held high; to be arrogant is to believe you can. For me, it was simpler: I was strong enough to face whatever Grass might throw at me.
The broker hesitated, debating whether to argue, then thought better of it. He fumbled with the scroll and handed it over with both hands, as if it might blow up in his grip.
The parchment was cool to the touch, faintly scented with damp grass and old ink. Someone in Yugakure had gone out of their way to make this look official.
Maybe it was. I knew the village had one hidden bloodline Kunoichi, and I suspected they wanted another. Kumo had grown by stealing and absorbing bloodlines and kekkei genkai, and Grass clearly had more ambition than sense.
"I'll process the payment in advance," he said quickly. "Half up front, the rest when you return."
I couldn't help but snort at their generosity. Clearly, they weren't worried about paying out — likely planning to recover that half, and more, on the back end. "Oh, I will return. And you better have my money."
(End of chapter)
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