"This isn't good..." I thought, struggling to move my legs.
I started experimenting with the chakra weights right after buying them. The system was simple in theory: use chakra, the seal activates, the mass increases. But none of the scrolls included instructions on how to regulate that mass—let alone reduce it.
The first two days, I just tried to understand how the seal mechanism worked. I fed chakra into it little by little, watching how my body reacted. Sometimes the effect was barely noticeable, other times the weights didn't respond at all. And then...
I overdid it.
At one point, I pushed in more chakra than I should have. The result—about twenty kilograms on each leg. The weights didn't grow in size, but the weight... the weight became depressingly real.
"This is seriously slowing me down," I noted, nearly stumbling. It felt like my whole body had been put into slow motion.
I tried to "siphon" the chakra back out, but it was useless. It felt like the seals had absorbed it and were holding it tightly, refusing to let go. There were no instructions about that either, and Toridu just shrugged it off—said the seals were standard and should "work on their own."
I'd have to adapt.
The plan was simple: get used to the new weight as quickly as possible. Start with short runs. Then basic exercises. Gradually increase the load.
I wasn't planning to take them off. On the contrary—if I could move freely under this weight, then without it, I'd be twice as fast.
Not even a day had passed when our instructor showed up. Judging by his mood, he had something in mind.
"You've worked together enough. You're now ready for C-rank missions," Sensei announced when we gathered at the Hokage's building.
"I thought we'd be doing D-rank missions until the end of time," Genma muttered in his usual sarcastic tone.
Not the best time, I thought, catching the way Sensei narrowed his eyes.
"Heh, finally some real work!" Gai exclaimed enthusiastically, clenching his fists. His eyes were practically glowing.
"C-rank missions can be long," Sensei continued as we headed toward the assignment center. "So once we receive the mission, you'll split up to gather ammunition and necessary gear."
He went inside alone. A few minutes later, he returned with a thin scroll in his hands.
"Escort a merchant to the Land of Marshes. It's a friendly nation, but there may be attacks by bandits or brigands along the way. Your task is to ensure safe arrival."
"Where's the merchant?" I asked, voicing the first practical question that came to mind.
"He'll be informed of the departure time. He'll be waiting at the east gate. Don't worry," Sensei replied. "Return here in an hour. No delays."
I already had a backpack prepared for just such occasions. Everything we were taught at the academy about field mission prep—I had put into practice right after graduation. I didn't want to be the one running around the village last-minute looking for bandages or a spare pair of shoes.
Inside was everything I needed: a supply of kunai and shuriken. Three scrolls with the basics—food pills, bandages, chakra recovery pills, a compact flask. In case of camping in the wild, I added a survival kit: fire striker, tripwires, some dried food, and a collapsible bowl. Clothing was accounted for too: a spare uniform, warm liner, raincoat, and a light camouflage cloak.
Between the scrolls was an old map of the southern territories and a compass tucked into a sturdy field notebook. The notebook also had a few blank pages to log the route.
I also packed a Fūma shuriken—a fairly rare piece. It's considered a signature design of the Fūma clan: large, foldable, perfectly balanced for throwing. Expensive, of course—it cost me five thousand ryō, but I still saw it as a worthy investment. Given its potential in combat, especially against multiple enemies, it could be a game-changer.
After tossing in a few more small items, I zipped up the backpack and headed toward the village gate.
When I arrived at the meeting point, I immediately noticed Chōza-sensei. He was talking to an older, stocky man in travel-worn clothes. As I approached, I heard Sensei introduce him:
"This is our client, Mr. Shobura. We are to ensure the safety of his people and the cargo they're transporting."
"Hello, I'm Kotetsu Hagane," I introduced myself with a slight bow.
"Hello-hello, take care of us," Shobura said with a light smile.
"I'll do my best," I nodded briefly.
A few minutes later, the others arrived. Gai was dragging a backpack so big it looked like it might crush him—nearly bigger than he was. Genma, by contrast, looked the same as always: neat, practical, carrying only what was necessary. Typical Genma.
Once the last crate was loaded onto the wagon and all preparations were complete, we made our way to Konoha's gates. A few chunin were stationed there, checking everyone leaving the village—recording names, purposes, and mission durations. It took about five minutes, and we finally stepped beyond the village limits.
Ahead of us stretched a flat, well-packed road disappearing into the green distance. On either side stood dense forest—trees packed so tightly that in some places their branches intertwined overhead, forming a leafy tunnel. A light breeze rustled the treetops, the leaves whispered to one another, and birds called to each other in the distance.
We quickly formed a protective formation—just like we were taught. Sensei, Chōza, walked in front, setting the pace and managing the route.
On the flanks were Gai and Genma. Gai, energetic in every step, occasionally surged ahead of the wagon, scanning the forest or the sky. You could hear him from far away—full of energy, as always. Genma moved almost silently, his eyes sweeping over bushes and tree trunks, a senbon casually clenched in his teeth. He looked calm but alert.
I brought up the rear, keeping an eye on our tail and watching the caravan from behind. The wagon's wheels left tracks in the dust, and rays of daylight flashed through the foliage on both sides. While we didn't expect serious threats, there was still tension in the air—in the silence, in the dark patches between trees, in the occasional rustle.
And so, without slowing down and maintaining formation, we moved forward.