Naruto: Faint Smile - CH 98

[Takeshi POV]

The border of the Land of Water was exactly as I imagined it would be. The air grew colder as we walked, the mist clinging to everything like it was auditioning for a horror story. Jiraiya-sensei trudged ahead with his usual swagger, his steps crunching on the damp ground like he didn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, I followed in silence, Tsuki nestled in my bag, her faint purring the only sound apart from our footsteps.

I didn’t need the ability to sense chakra to know we were being watched. It was subtle, like someone skimming the edges of a book without opening it. My faint smile remained, though inwardly, I made a mental note to stay on guard.

Jiraiya-sensei suddenly stopped, turning to face me with that familiar grin plastered across his face—the one that usually preceded something ridiculous. “Alright, kid. From here on out, we need to go incognito.”

I blinked at him, tilting my head slightly. “Incognito?”

“Yup.” He nodded, his expression oddly serious, and that was never good with him. “We can’t risk being recognized. The Mist and the Leaf aren’t exactly on each other’s BFF’s card lists right now.”

I hummed thoughtfully. That much was true. The Hidden Mist wasn’t a fan of outsiders, especially those from the Leaf. If we were caught, it could escalate into a diplomatic headache—or worse. It was a sensible precaution, though I suspected Jiraiya-sensei’s definition of “incognito” would be far from standard.

“So, we’ll use the Transformation Jutsu?” I asked, already imagining the chakra signs.

But before I could complete the thought, Jiraiya pulled a bag from nowhere—seriously, where does he keep half his stuff?—and tossed it at me. The bag landed with a dull thud in my arms, its contents heavier than expected.

“Wrong!” Jiraiya declared dramatically, pointing a finger at me. “Sometimes, the simplest approach is the best one!”

I glanced down at the bag. A large, hastily scrawled label read: Cheap Disguise Bag.

Of course, it did.

Opening it cautiously, I found a wig, clothes that looked like they’d been pulled out of a bad stage play, and… contact lenses?

I raised an eyebrow at Jiraiya, my faint smile unwavering. “This won’t work.”

“Of course it will!” he said, puffing out his chest. “It’s foolproof!”

I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I reached into the bag, pulling out a hideous orange wig that looked like it had been on the losing end of a fight with a wild animal.

“Is this… synthetic?” I asked, holding it up.

“High-quality synthetic,” Jiraiya corrected, looking insulted. “I spared no expense!”

I glanced at him, then back at the wig. It felt like something you’d find in the clearance bin of a costume shop. “I see,” I said simply, setting it aside and digging deeper.

Next came the clothes: a mismatched outfit that screamed, “I’m definitely a civilian, please don’t look at me too hard.” The pants were bright yellow, and the shirt was covered in gaudy floral patterns.

“What exactly is this supposed to be?” I asked.

“Local fashion!” Jiraiya replied confidently.

I stared at him, wondering if he’d ever been to the Land of Water before. “Are you sure?” Based on the books I had read, there was no indication about these clothes being the norm for civilians, then again… books could often be wrong, especially when the author had a bias against a certain topic.

“Trust me,” he said, giving me a thumbs-up. “No one will suspect a thing!”

I sighed, deciding not to argue, he was the expert on these matters after all. Instead, I reached for the contact lenses, which were, of course, a lovely shade of neon green. I was starting to believe, firmly may I add, that subtlety was apparently not part of Jiraiya’s vocabulary or tactics.

“These are... noticeable,” I said, holding them up to the light. “Very noticeable… Are you trying to get me killed sensei? Because I assure you there are less noticeable ways to do so.”

“Kid, don’t be a party crasher!” Jiraiya grinned. “The lenses will work, don’t worry. They’ll draw attention to your eyes, and no one will think to look at anything else.”

“Uh-huh.”

I was starting to believe he was using me as some kind of bait… for what purpose exactly? I didn’t have the slightest idea. At very least I knew he wouldn’t let me die, so… I guess I would have to wait and see.

Tsuki poked her head out of my bag, her adorable eyes staring at the cheap pile of chaos I was holding. She let out a small chirp, which I interpreted as either disapproval or amusement. Knowing her, it was probably both.

Jiraiya was already rummaging through his own disguise bag, pulling out an outfit that could only be described as “midlife crisis tourist.” A loud floral shirt, shorts that were entirely too short, and sandals that looked like they belonged on a beach somewhere far, far away from the Mist.

“What do you think?” he asked, striking a pose.

“I think you’ll blend in perfectly at a vacation resort,” I replied evenly.

“Exactly!” he said, missing the sarcasm entirely.

I sighed again, setting the bag down and beginning the inevitable process of putting on the disguise. The wig was scratchy and smelled faintly of glue, the clothes were several sizes too big, and the contact lenses were annoyingly slippery.

When I was finished, I turned to Jiraiya. “How do I look?”

He gave me a once-over, nodding approvingly. “Perfect! You look like a totally normal kid!”

“Right,” I said, adjusting the wig for the hundredth time.

Jiraiya gestured for me to follow as he started walking again. I fell into step beside him, doing my best to ignore the way the wig itched and the clothes swished loudly with every movement.

“Sensei,” I began, “if someone asks why we look like we should be in a circus, what’s the story we should give them? You know, before they inevitably try to kill us.”

“Simple,” he said, his grin widening. “We’re handsome merchants traveling to the Land of Water to sell exotic goods!”

I raised an eyebrow. “What exotic goods?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll improvise!”

Improvise. Of course. Because nothing ever goes wrong when you leave things to improvisation. Though it fit him, he was… a free spirit, so to speak.

As we walked, the mist grew thicker, and the air took on a salty tang. The faint sound of waves crashing against the shore reached my ears, signaling that we were getting close. Tsuki poked her head out of the bag again, her ears twitching as she took in the new scents.

Jiraiya slowed his pace, glancing around like he was checking for something—or someone. “Alright,” he said quietly, “from here on out, keep your guard up. The Mist has eyes everywhere.”

—---------------------

[A few hours later.]

The gates of Kirigakure loomed ahead, shrouded in the perpetual mist that gave the village its name. From a distance, the place had seemed imposing. Up close, it was worse. The air felt heavier, like the village itself didn’t want us there.

Living here had to be depressing on some level.

Two shinobi guards stood at the entrance, clad in the standard Kiri uniforms, their expressions flat and unwelcoming. They didn’t look particularly friendly, but given the situation, that was probably the point.

I glanced at Jiraiya-sensei as we approached. His terrible disguise—floral shirt, shorts, sandals—stood out like a sore thumb in the muted tones of the Mist’s environment. ‘Local fashion… my ass,’ I suspected even the fish in the nearby harbor would question our fashion choices.

The guards stepped forward as we reached the gate, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of us.

“State your business,” one of them said, his voice as cold as the air around us.

I stopped, keeping my expression neutral and my faint smile in place. Jiraiya, on the other hand, strode forward with the confidence of someone who believed their plan was flawless.

“Ah, my good friends!” Jiraiya exclaimed, spreading his arms wide like he was greeting old comrades. “No need for such serious faces. We’re just humble travelers passing through!”

The guards exchanged a glance, their expressions unchanged.

“Travelers,” the first guard repeated, his tone skeptical. “And what’s with the outfits?”

The second guard gestured vaguely at us, his gaze lingering on my orange wig and Jiraiya’s blindingly loud shirt. “You look… ridiculous.”

I couldn’t argue with that assessment, though I resisted the urge to nod in agreement. Instead, I shifted my gaze to Jiraiya, my faint smile unwavering, my eyes telling him… I told you so.

Jiraiya didn’t miss a beat. “Ah, I see you’ve noticed our attire! Excellent observation! You see, my young apprentice and I are performers—a two-man act, if you will.”

Performers.

I tilted my head slightly, giving Jiraiya a sidelong look. He didn’t acknowledge me, too busy spinning his tale with wild enthusiasm.

“We travel from village to village,” Jiraiya continued, “bringing joy and laughter to those in need! Our costumes are part of the act—an essential component of our performance!”

The first guard crossed his arms, his expression unimpressed. “Performers?”

“Yes!” Jiraiya said, nodding vigorously. “My name is, uh…” He hesitated for a fraction of a second before grinning. “Great Sage Maximus!”

I blinked. Great Sage Maximus.

“And this,” Jiraiya gestured to me, “is my loyal assistant, Sunshine.”

Sunshine.

The guards stared at us in silence, their skepticism palpable. I could feel their eyes boring into me, waiting for some kind of reaction. I met their gazes calmly, my faint smile still intact.

“Sunshine doesn’t talk much,” Jiraiya added quickly, as if that somehow explained everything.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the distant sound of waves. I briefly considered the logistics of taking Tsuki and disappearing into the mist, leaving Jiraiya to deal with the consequences of his own insanity.

Finally, the second guard spoke. “A two-man act.”

“Yes!” Jiraiya exclaimed.

The guard looked us up and down, his expression unreadable. “And what kind of act is this supposed to be?”

“Oh, a little of everything!” Jiraiya said, waving a hand. “Comedy, drama, interpretive dance. You name it, we do it!”

The first guard raised an eyebrow. “Interpretive dance?”

“Only when the mood strikes,” Jiraiya said solemnly.

The guards exchanged another glance, their expressions shifting from skepticism to something resembling pity.

“Only a couple of clowns would dress like that,” the second guard muttered under his breath.

The first guard sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. Go ahead. But don’t cause any trouble.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Jiraiya said, giving an exaggerated bow.

As we stepped through the gates, I caught the guards muttering to each other. Words like “idiots” and “waste of time” floated in the air.

Once we were out of earshot, Jiraiya leaned in close, his voice dripping with smugness. “I told you.”

I didn’t respond immediately, adjusting the wig that had shifted slightly during the encounter. Finally, I spoke, my tone as calm as ever. “So, I’m Sunshine now?”

“Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Jiraiya said, grinning.

I hummed thoughtfully, considering the logistics of this new identity. “I suppose it’s better than Great Sage Maximus.”

“Hey, don’t knock the name! It’s got gravitas.”

“Of course,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.

As we walked further into the village, I couldn’t help but reflect on the absurdity of the situation. Jiraiya-sensei’s plans were often… unconventional, but this one had set a new standard. And yet, against all odds, it had worked.

For now.

The streets of Kirigakure were crowded but quiet, the mist giving everything an eerie, muted quality. Shinobi moved through the village, their faces serious, their eyes sharp. Civilians went about their business quickly, avoiding prolonged eye contact.

It was clear this was a place where trust was in short supply.

Jiraiya, however, seemed unfazed, strolling through the streets like he owned the place. I followed a step behind, my faint smile never wavering. Tsuki peeked out from my bag, her ears twitching as she took in the unfamiliar sights and sounds.

“Alright, Sunshine,” Jiraiya said, glancing back at me. “First order of business: finding a place to stay.”

“Do you think the Great Sage Maximus and his assistant will have much luck here?” I asked.

“Of course!” he said confidently. “We’re performers, remember? People love performers!”

I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. The people of Kirigakure didn’t strike me as the “love a good performance” type. Still, I kept my thoughts to myself, deciding it was easier to let Jiraiya’s plan play out, if things went south, I would take satisfaction telling him I told you so before dying.