Without a multitude of very unpleasant sealing techniques, one cannot become a master of Fuinjutsu, be it a spy or a silent assassin. Given that a quarter of all standard missions pertain to the realm of cloak-and-dagger operations, this is a pretty significant drawback.
— It's not crucial right now—if we scared them off, that's fine, — Uchihas said with a smirk, flashing his activated Sharingan with three tomoe.
— Should we pursue them?
— No, — Hatake shook his head in response to the scout's questioning glance, — our mission is to protect the Genin teams, not to chase unknown shinobi in a foreign country. Let the Sunagakure shinobi handle them; we'll stick to our own task.
Shrugging, Hizashi turned towards the slightly ahead group and set off, picking up a good speed even for a Jonin. However, there were no weaklings among us, so we quickly caught up with him, and within five minutes, rejoined the others, restoring our original marching order with the weaker members inside and the strongest on the outside.
The rest of the journey was again a monotonous and exhausting trek through the sea of sand. Looking at the shinobi and kunoichi sweating through their clothes and enduring the harsh sun, I could only be grateful for my own outfit—the cloak with a hood kept the temperature steady and protected from the direct rays, the mask helped cool the heated air a bit, and the glasses not only shielded my eyes from the sand blown into my face by the wind but also prevented blindness from the excess light.
The regulating seals I had thoughtfully applied to the side of the glasses worked excellently as light filters. The others had to rely on their chakra to mitigate the local weather conditions. They also used makeshift solutions, like towels wrapped around their heads or other suitable cloths among the Genin.
The Jonin, having learned from experience, had taken care of headgear in advance, sporting light-colored bandanas—at our speed, it was quite challenging to keep hats on even with the help of chakra.
One could only be glad that this heat torture would end by the next day when we would finally arrive at our destination. Although I didn't think it would be much cooler in Sunagakure, at least there we could find some relief in the shade of buildings or the village's enormous walls, rather than enduring the blazing sun, where shade was provided only by rare scraps of rock protruding from the sand in completely random places. Whether these were remnants of mountains turned to sand or the result of some Doton techniques, I preferred to believe the latter.
However, plans are one thing, and life often throws unexpected surprises that don't fit into those plans. By evening, a suddenly rising wind and rapidly darkening skies forced us to stop, and I barely managed to erect a five-by-five-meter barrier around everyone before we were hit by a fierce sandstorm.
A storm is a storm; shinobi are not easily intimidated by nature's fury. However, what I didn't like was the rapid depletion of chakra reserves in the barrier. It was depleting much faster than it should, even with the strongest gusts of wind carrying entire mountains of sand capable of wearing flesh off bones in minutes. Very strange… I made sure to share my concerns with the higher-ups. However, what I didn't mention was the odd feeling from the storm that hit us so suddenly.
— Hizashi? — White Fang of Konoha turned to the attentive deputy.
The veins on the shinobi's temples bulged grotesquely, signaling the activation of his Dojutsu, after which Hizashi grimaced.
— This storm blocks my vision after just a few hundred meters, so it's safe to say it's not of entirely natural origin, which explains the strain on the barrier, — he reported, — but it doesn't seem to be the work of ordinary shinobi either.
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