[Starting in Naruto with a Daily Login System] Chapter 45 The Art of Running Away (Professionally, of Course)

Chapter 45 The Art of Running Away (Professionally, of Course)

The blaring sirens echoed through the estate, and somewhere in the distance, the distinct sound of way too many shinobi rushing our way filled the air.

"Shisui," I said, keeping my voice eerily calm, "I just want you to know—this is your fault."

Shisui winced. "In my defense—"

"No," Tokuma cut in. "No defense. Only blame."

"Alright, maybe a little defense?"

Genma twirled a senbon between his fingers. "I dunno, Captain. I feel like we should just accept that Shisui has the worst luck in existence."

"We all have the worst luck," I muttered. "Now move!"

We bolted.

Now, I want to make something very clear—running away is not cowardly. It's called strategic retreat, and I personally think it's a very underappreciated skill.

Shisui blurred ahead, darting between shadows, making sure we weren’t being cut off. Tokuma kept a steady eye on our pursuers, his Byakugan letting him track exactly how screwed we were. Genma, ever the showoff, casually deflected a kunai mid-run, not even breaking stride.

Me? I was focusing on the most important part—not dying.

"How bad?" I called to Tokuma.

"Six closing in fast, another group cutting us off ahead."

I groaned. "Great. Any bright ideas?"

Genma smirked. "Yeah. Keep running."

"Brilliant," I deadpanned. "That’s why I pay you the big bucks."

"You don’t pay us at all," Shisui pointed out.

"Exactly."

A barrage of kunai rained down. We scattered, dodging through the courtyard. The enemy was fast, but we were faster. The exit was just ahead—if we could reach it before the reinforcements boxed us in.

Tokuma scowled. "Two incoming from the left!"

I threw a kunai without looking, aiming precisely where his Byakugan tracked their movement. A grunt of pain told me it hit its mark.

We rounded the corner, only to find ourselves face-to-face with a lot more guards than I liked.

"Oh, come on!" Shisui groaned.

One of the guards stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "End of the line, Konoha dogs."

"Y’know," Genma said, twirling his senbon lazily, "for a guy working for a dead man, you sound awfully confident."

The guard sneered. "You’re not leaving this place alive."

I exhaled slowly. "Listen," I said, tone completely calm. "You don’t want to do this."

"Why? Because you’re ANBU?" the man scoffed. "You think we’re scared?"

"No," I said. "Because we could kill all of you. And we won’t—because that’s not the mission."

The ANBU were very clear about this. We were here to assassinate Tanaka Gorō. That was it. No unnecessary casualties, no massacres, no loose ends. And I, unlike some people, actually followed protocol.

The man in front of us clearly did not care about protocol. He lunged.

I sighed. "Fine. Plan B, then."

Tokuma sighed. "Do we have a Plan B?"

"Yes," I said. "It’s called violence, but responsibly."

The guards barely had time to blink before we attacked.

Shisui vanished in a burst of speed, reappearing behind three enemies. His blade flicked out, and in one impossibly smooth motion, they dropped—alive, but unconscious.

Genma deflected a sword strike with his senbon (because he’s dramatic like that) before pivoting and driving a kunai straight into an enemy’s gut—non-lethally, of course. The man crumpled, groaning in pain.

Tokuma, who had long since accepted that his life was pain, dismantled his opponent with brutal precision—gentle fists striking vital tenketsu points, rendering the poor bastard immobile before he even knew what happened.

Me? I was standing in the middle, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold.

"Good job, team," I said cheerfully. "Ten out of ten performance."

Tokuma turned to glare at me. "Do something."

I tilted my head. "Why? You’re all doing great."

Shisui groaned. "Captain, please."

Fine. I suppose I could help.

I flicked a kunai into the last guard’s shoulder. He howled in pain, staggering—right before Genma knocked him out cold with a well-placed kick to the head.

And just like that, we were free.

We bolted past the downed enemies, slipping through the gates before more could arrive.

Tokuma scanned the area with his Byakugan. "Coast is clear. We need to keep moving before they regroup."

"Agreed," I said. "Shisui, cover our tracks. Genma, take the lead. Hawk, keep an eye on our flank."

Shisui threw me a lazy salute before flickering away, already setting up false trails to throw off pursuit. Genma picked up the pace, leading us toward the rendezvous point.

The mission was done.

Tanaka Gorō was dead.

All we had to do now was make it home.

Easy, right?

…Right?

—

We were about ten miles from Ishigakure, running through dense forest under the cover of night, when the exhaustion started setting in. Not physical exhaustion—because we were ANBU and used to this kind of nonsense—but mental exhaustion.

"Are we there yet?" Genma drawled.

"No," I said.

"Are we there now?"

I sighed. "Genma."

He grinned. "Just checking."

Tokuma inhaled deeply through his nose, most likely to calm himself before he did something regrettable. "We are professionals," he muttered under his breath, like a prayer. "We are professionals."

"Aw, c’mon, Hawk, lighten up," Shisui said, walking backward just to be extra annoying. "Mission went well, nobody died, and we got to see Captain barely do anything while we fought for our lives."

I shrugged. "Delegation is an important leadership skill."

"Lazy," Tokuma accused.

"Efficient," I corrected.

"Menace," Shisui added.

"Accurate," Genma agreed.

I sighed, wondering—for the thousandth time—why I was put in charge of these people.

We stopped for a short rest once we were far enough from Ishigakure that no one would stumble across us.

Shisui immediately flopped onto the ground with a dramatic groan. "Can we please eat now?"

"We should keep moving," Tokuma said. "We're still close enough for pursuit."

"But food," Shisui whined.

"But we are still technically on an escape route," Tokuma snapped.

Genma twirled his senbon between his fingers. "If we starve to death, that’ll be a real shame, huh?"

I sighed and pulled out some energy bars from my inventory. "Fine. Eat fast."

Shisui grabbed his like it was a gift from the heavens. "Bless you, Captain."

Genma sniffed his bar suspiciously. "I feel like I’ve eaten cardboard that tasted better than this."

"You probably have," I said.

Tokuma, the only responsible one, just ate his food silently and glared at the rest of us.

After eating, we got moving again, sticking to the trees. We traveled in silence for a while—until Genma, for absolutely no reason, decided to ruin it.

"Okay," he said casually. "Would you rather fight ten Shisuis or one Captain Kakashi?"

Tokuma exhaled sharply. "I refuse to do this again."

Shisui, who should have been offended, only grinned. "Ooooh, good question."

"Is it, though?" I muttered.

"Ten Shisuis," Genma mused. "That’s a lot of speed."

Tokuma scowled. "One Kakashi," he said. "Because at least he would end it quickly instead of tormenting me."

"Rude," Shisui said, looking genuinely offended.

I tilted my head. "You think I wouldn’t torment you?"

Tokuma pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate this team."

Genma smirked. "One day, Tokuma. One day you’ll learn to appreciate us."

"Not today," Tokuma muttered.

"Are we there yet?"

"Genma, I swear to god—"

"But are we there now?"

"I will leave you behind."

"No, you won’t," Genma said smugly.

I sighed. "He’s right. But I want to."

Tokuma ignored us all, likely contemplating how much paperwork it would take to request a different team.

Shisui, ever the problem child, sped ahead, running backward on the tree branches just to show off. "Race you to the next clearing?"

Genma grinned. "You’re on."

I didn’t stop them. Tokuma didn’t either. If they wanted to waste energy, that was their problem.

They blurred ahead, vanishing into the trees.

A moment later, there was a loud crash followed by Shisui’s voice:

"Okay, in my defense—"

"No," Genma cut in. "No defense. Only blame."

Tokuma sighed heavily. "I hate all of you."

—

When I first accepted this mission, I mentally prepared for a long operation—weeks of recon, planning, slow and methodical execution. Maybe a month. Possibly more.

Instead, we did it in a week.

I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed with us or disappointed in how ridiculously easy it was to dismantle an entire country’s leadership.

On one hand, it was great. We got in, got out, and still had time to be annoying on the way back. On the other hand… Why was it that easy? Did we just catch them at a bad time? Was Gorō really that unprepared? Did Ishigakure have any actual shinobi?

Either way, we were back in Konoha sooner than expected.

I wasn’t going to complain about getting paid for a month-long mission that only lasted a week. But still.

We arrived at the village gates in the early afternoon, reporting in like the professionals we were. Which, of course, meant that the moment we were out of ANBU headquarters, Genma immediately turned to me with a grin.

"Food?"

"Food," Shisui agreed.

Tokuma sighed. "We just got back. Shouldn’t we rest first?"

"Food is rest," Genma said.

I shrugged. "He’s not wrong."

Tokuma looked at the sky like it would grant him patience. "Fine. Where?"

That was a good question. I was this close to suggesting ramen, but if I did, I’d have to deal with Minato-sensei finding out we were back before I was mentally prepared to face him.

Shisui crossed his arms. "Kakashi, you have the most money. You decide."

I narrowed my eyes. "Excuse me?"

Genma grinned. "C’mon, Captain. ANBU pay is good, but you have no social life and no vices. You have to be sitting on a fortune."

That was… actually true.

Still, I refused to be bullied into paying.

"Fine," I said. "But I pick the place."

Shisui and Genma nodded eagerly.

Tokuma just sighed. "I already regret this."

I grinned behind my mask. "Good. Let’s go."

We ended up at a small grill house just outside the main market district, tucked away in a quiet corner of the village. The food was good, the service was fast, and, most importantly, no one we knew would randomly show up and start asking questions.

"So," Genma said, after ordering half the menu. "What now?"

"Now," I said, leaning back, "we forget about work for at least a day."

"Amen," Shisui muttered.

Tokuma still looked skeptical. "You think that’s possible?"

I shrugged. "No. But it’s nice to dream."

Shisui smirked. "Speaking of dreams—"

"No," Tokuma and I said at the same time.

Genma grinned. "You don’t even know what he was gonna say."

"I do," Tokuma said, rubbing his temples. "And I refuse to participate."

Shisui pouted. "You guys are no fun."

I sighed. "This team is a mistake."

"Yeah," Tokuma muttered. "But at least we get free food out of it."