As he approached Handa town, just a hundred meters away, he spotted guards donning headbands adorned with the leaf symbol. Yet, lurking in the shadows, he discerned shinobi who exuded a far more formidable aura than the gatekeepers.
'Must be from the Anbu,' he speculated, though their specific origin remained elusive. It wasn't uncommon for Anbu operatives from various villages to be deployed in towns as needed for covert operations.
Regardless, it posed a complication. He lacked any identification documents to verify his status and preferred not to attract unnecessary attention by engaging a fight with them.
Though it didn't take much time to realise how small the huddle was and felt like his body's instinct overreacted a bit
***
As the night grew colder and the wind howled, two stern-faced guards stood at the entrance of Handa town, diligently performing their duties.
In their late twenties, they had shed the naivety of youth. Their dreams had been replaced by the stark reality of making ends meet and hoping to avoid the battlefield, even if it meant serving in the logistics department. They had seen enough of the world to know that glory was often accompanied by hardship, and they were content to fulfill their duty without seeking fame or recognition.
Their allegiance to Konoha and the Third Hokage was unwavering, yet their resolve in the face of death was barely perceptible. They were not fearless warriors eager for battle; instead, they were ordinary men who had accepted the risks that came with their profession.
Nevertheless, it didn't mean they lacked dedication. Even if no travelers came to the town all night, they would remain steadfast until their shift ended. They understood the importance of their role in maintaining the safety and security of the village, and they took their responsibilities seriously.
While on guard duty, a traveler approached. One of the guards, a burly man with a neatly trimmed beard, stepped forward and asked sternly, "Identification and purpose of visit."
"Just came here to drink some booze," the traveler said with a warm smile, pulling out a crisp 1000 Ruo bill and discreetly offering it to the guard. "I'm really sorry, I seem to have forgotten my ID. Could you help me out tonight, just for today?"
The guard glanced around to ensure no one was watching except for the guard beside him, then looked back at the traveler. He hesitated momentarily, but the allure of easy money was hard to resist. In times of war, when daily expenses were rising, having extra money on hand was much appreciated compared to taking predatory loans. As a final measure, he glanced at the guard beside him, who happened to be a sensor. With a slight nod from the sensor guard, indicating he sensed little chakra on the traveler, the burly guard accepted the bill, folded it, and tucked it into his pocket.
"Just this once," he muttered, stepping aside to let the traveler pass. The traveler thanked him, maintaining his smile as he walked through the doors and headed towards the tavern.
As the traveler disappeared into the bustling streets, the sensor guard beside him watched the scene unfold with a mixture of resignation and unease. While he had confirmed the traveler had too little chakra if he happens to be a shinobi, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off.
With a complex feeling in chest, he sighed and returned his attention to the task at hand, silently praying that this seemingly innocuous encounter wouldn't spiral into something more sinister.
***
As he step inside, he is greeted by the soft, ambient glow of paper lanterns and the rich aroma of grilled meats and savory broths. The walls are often adorned with wooden panels, calligraphy scrolls, and sake barrels, giving the space an authentic and rustic feel.
The seating arrangements vary, with some tables surrounded by tatami mats for a more traditional experience, while others have wooden stools and counters where patrons can watch the chefs at work. The air is filled with the lively chatter of friends and colleagues unwinding after a long day, accompanied by the occasional clinking of glasses and enthusiastic toasts.
Background music, if any, is typically subtle, allowing the hum of conversation and laughter to dominate the soundscape. The staff, dressed in simple kimono-styled to paired with knees-length trousers move efficiently through the space, delivering plates of delicious small dishes like yakitori, tempura, and sashimi, along with drinks like beer, sake, and shochu.
Taking a seat in an empty spot, a waitress approached him, wearing a smile that lit up her face like the morning sun breaking through the clouds. Her uniform was crisp and clean, accentuating her professionalism and warmth.
"Welcome! Thank you for coming to our tarvan. What can I get for you today? Our specials tonight are yakitori (grilled chicken skewers) and sashimi platter. Would you like to start with a drink? We have beer, sake, and shochu available."
"Thank you. I'll have the yakitori and the sashimi platter, please. For a drink, I'll have a beer." he replied with a smile of his own.
————————————————————
Quote of the day:
"Bribing is not bad when it finishes the job."
~ Sun Tzu, Art of War