The large caravan slowly traveled toward the southern coastline. Due to the excessive cargo, the caravan's pace was inevitably sluggish.
This was destined to be a long and time-consuming commission.
Fortunately, Shinki was mentally prepared. He sat comfortably in the carriage, peacefully resting, occasionally reading a book, or asking Pakura to massage his legs or pat his shoulders. Though Pakura would always roll her eyes in annoyance, she complied grudgingly.
Shinki found that such a slow-paced commission wasn't entirely unpleasant.
At least there were no major troubles to worry about; he just had to ensure the safety of the goods and the people in the caravan.
As night fell, the caravan stopped along the roadside to rest.
The caravan leader approached Shinki and invited him to join them for dinner.
"There's no need for that. A commission is a commission, and beyond that, we should respect each other's responsibilities," Shinki politely declined.
Others had paid a high commission fee for his protection, and the profit margins were likely slim. If he and Pakura were to accept such hospitality daily, it would undoubtedly impose a financial strain on the caravan.
There was no need to trouble others over a mere meal. The caravan worked tirelessly to traverse the world and earn their keep—it wasn't an easy livelihood.
After refusing the offer, Shinki led Pakura into the nearby forest.
In the Land of Fire, as long as one had skill, finding food was never a challenge.
Half an hour later, Shinki and Pakura sat by a fire where a freshly caught prey was roasting. The rich aroma of barbecue filled the air.
Pakura held a kunai, carefully slicing the cooked meat into portions and placing them onto plates.
"The people in the caravan are really peculiar. They're heading to the Sand Village via the southern coastline," Pakura remarked, handing a plate to Shinki.
Taking a bite of the roasted meat, Shinki showed a satisfied expression before casually responding, "They need to stop by several smaller countries and villages along the way to trade. They'll sell goods, buy local specialties, and then transport them elsewhere."
Pakura raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't that extend the commission by several months?"
"Indeed, but that's how joint trade guilds operate. Unlike large caravans with established routes, these smaller guilds are formed by many independent traders with diverse goods," Shinki explained.
Pakura frowned. "Even so, the commission they're offering doesn't seem to leave much room for profit."
"It's better to make a small profit than nothing at all," Shinki replied, focusing on the barbecue. "Their generous commission reflects how tightly their profit margins are squeezed, which is why they prioritize absolute safety."
"There aren't many caravans heading to Sand Village, are there?" Pakura mused.
"Not many..." Shinki agreed, watching her pause mid-thought.
Sand Village's barren landscape offered little appeal for traders. Minerals were the only notable resource, but such deposits were abundant elsewhere in the ninja world. Few were willing to venture to Sand Village for a mineral trade unless the profits were substantial.
Moreover, the Wind Country's vast deserts were far from peaceful.
Caravans seldom visited Sand Village because there were few buyers for their goods and it wasn't worth the trouble. Most chose more profitable destinations.
Just like in Shinki's previous life—countries dominated by deserts, without resources like oil, rarely attracted visitors.
"Are you full?" Shinki asked.
"Hmm?" Pakura, who had just set down her plate, looked up in puzzlement.
"Once we're done, let's handle some business."
Pakura stared at him suspiciously. Before she could voice her objections, she noticed the mischievous glint in his eyes and was so annoyed that she wanted to jab him with her kunai.
"Not content to sit quietly in the carriage, and now you're stirring up something after dinner?" she muttered. Still, Shinki's brisk pace left her no choice but to grudgingly comply.
Half a month later, the caravan reached the southern coastline and boarded a merchant ship bound for nearby small countries. As Shinki had anticipated, the caravan stopped in several villages and smaller nations along the way to sell goods and procure new ones. Afterward, they continued south toward the Land of Wind.
Upon setting foot in the Wind Country again, Pakura felt a storm of mixed emotions.
She was no longer part of the Sand Village. To most, she was considered a traitor who had abandoned her village.
Fortunately, the caravan wouldn't directly enter the Sand Village but instead sell goods in prosperous towns and oases in the Wind Country. This eased Pakura's nerves somewhat.
If the caravan had gone directly to the Sand Village, she wouldn't have known how to face the villagers.
"Feeling nervous?" Shinki asked, observing her discomfort since entering the Wind Country.
Pakura didn't respond immediately. If you hadn't forced me to leave the Sand Village, would I even be in this situation? she thought, exasperated. Now he's asking if I'm uncomfortable? Isn't that rubbing salt in the wound?
Before she could retort, Shinki, standing beside her in the carriage, suddenly looked up at the distant sky.
"An acquaintance is coming. Want to rest inside the carriage for a bit?" he said casually.
"Who?" Pakura asked, following his gaze. The clear blue sky revealed nothing.
Just as she suspected Shinki was teasing her, a small black dot appeared on the horizon, growing larger at an alarming rate.
In the Wind Country, a black dot on the horizon often signaled bad weather or an impending sandstorm. But when a single dot moved swiftly and directly toward the ground, it could only mean one thing:
Pakura was about to meet someone familiar.
Within two minutes, the black dot transformed into a figure, descending rapidly toward the caravan. The approaching individual was none other than the Third Kazekage.
A caravan entering the Wind Country wasn't an unusual occurrence, and the Third Kazekage wouldn't typically concern himself with such trivial matters. However, this caravan was different. It had sent numerous scouts ahead—but they weren't human. They were puppets.