Infiltration of the Hidden Leaf!!!

[Rain21199]

Mamoru's heart pounded against his chest as he crouched beneath the protective cloak of the trader's cart, desperately seeking shelter from the elements. The scent of damp earth mingled with the earthy aroma of vegetables, surrounding him in a peculiar symphony of odors. The confined space pressed against him, squeezing him between crates of cabbages and baskets overflowing with vibrant carrots. It was a cramped and uncomfortable hiding place, but it was the best he could come up with to infiltrate the hidden leaf village.

His mind wandered back to his childhood, memories of his towering father, Zakuro Gerudo, who had once been his role model. The image of Zakuro's strength and intelligence remained etched in Mamoru's mind. The nickname he had affectionately given Mamoru, "little pup," echoed in his thoughts, a bittersweet reminder of their fractured relationship. Zakuro hardly visited them as Mamoru grew up. He always waited with anticipation for his father’s return, and felt so happy when he finally would make a visit. It had been years now since they had last seen each other, and Mamoru's longing for answers propelled him to embark on this perilous journey, leaving behind the safety of his home and his mother. Why had his father left them alone? Why didn’t he love Mamoru?

The cart jolted and rattled along the muddy path, the raindrops dancing a melodic rhythm on the tarp stretched above him. Despite its protective layer, the cold tendrils of rain pierced through the fabric, chilling Mamoru to the bone. He shivered involuntarily, his small frame convulsing within the sea of vegetables. With each bump and jolt, the cart seemed to taunt him, prolonging the agonizing passage towards Konohagakure, the village he yearned to reach.

Time dragged on, and finally, the cart came to a halt. Voices murmured in hushed tones, drifting through the air and reaching Mamoru's little ears. He strained to listen, eager to catch any glimpse of information about his destination. "Hey Kuro, what are you bringing to the village today?" a female voice inquired, breaking the silence. A gruff reply followed, presumably belonging to the weathered merchant. "Just another yield of crops. Got some fresh veggies in the back for you and your husband if you'd like some. Free of charge," he offered kindly.

"We're good. Thank you, though! Carry on," the woman responded, dismissing the generous offer. The cart began its motion once again, confirming Mamoru's suspicions that this was merely a checkpoint along the way. He buried himself deeper among the vegetables, hoping to find respite from the persistent cold. However, the chill had already seeped into his bones, refusing to release its grip.

Finally, the cart came to a second halt, and the distant clamor of numerous voices filled the air. Excitement bubbled within Mamoru as he realized that this was the entrance to Konoha. The mere thought of setting foot in the village warmed his spirit, if only momentarily. Stern voices interrogated the merchant about the cart and its contents, bombarding him with a barrage of questions. Mamoru strained to catch every word, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Where did you come from? Who ordered the shipment? Do you have your papers for entry?" the guards questioned, their voices stern and authoritative. The merchant responded promptly, his answers delivered with practiced ease, as if he had undergone this scrutiny countless times before. Mamoru's heart skipped a beat when he heard the words he had feared the most, "time to check the cart."

Panic surged through Mamoru's veins, coursing with an intensity that matched his racing heartbeat. He scrambled to cover himself with as many vegetables as he could, his breath held in a desperate attempt to remain unseen. In a feeble act of defiance, he squeezed his eyes shut, as if by denying his sight, he could make himself invisible to the shinobi. To his astonishment, the words he dreaded never materialized. The shinobi simply uttered, "Let him through," and lowered the tarp, concealing Mamoru's presence.

Relief washed over him like a gentle breeze, and a sliver of triumph coursed through his veins. He had accomplished the seemingly impossible—bypassing Konoha's formidable defenses. For an eight-year-old who had never ventured beyond the confines of his home, it was an achievement that filled him with a mixture of pride and disbelief. Or so he thought.

Minutes later, the cart ground to a halt once more, this time in a relatively quiet part of the village. The tarp was abruptly ripped away, exposing Mamoru to the unforgiving gaze of stern-faced shinobi. Multiple formidable ninja encircled him, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. Tears welled up in his eyes, their mingling with the raindrops that cascaded from above. Fear gripped his heart, forming a palpable lump in his throat, as he realized the gravity of his situation. This was the moment his journey had led to—a confrontation with the authorities.

One finally broke the suffocating silence, causing Mamoru to jump. “Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be,” he said sternly, “come up slowly with your arms outstretched.”

With trembling hands, Mamoru slowly raised his head, his gaze meeting the unwavering eyes of the shinobi. The weight of their scrutiny bore down upon him, their unyielding expressions reflecting the severity of his transgression. In that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, and Mamoru's fragile resolve threatened to crumble under the weight of his fear.

[Director]

Fanho resided in his Hokage's office as he looked towards the window with is his chin leaned up into his hand. It had been a day or so since he'd fully moved into the office. His coronation around the corner. For what should be a happy time was exemplified perfectly by the weather, just dreary and not a ray of sun in sight. The Awai sighed as his fingers rapped on the table before he felt the sensory bubble pierced, and had notified all guard shinobi on duty to respond. While it wasn't a large signature, not certainly one of a shinobi, it was certainly someone not noted or had a pass to be near the confines of the village.

He calmly stood from his desk as he grabbed his Hokage's hoari. First duties he supposed. In a flash Fanho appeared behind the guards that had stopped the cart, just as some shinobi barged in his Hokage's chambers to deliver the news to the already parted Hokage. As he approached the situation he cocked an eyebrow at a guard who furrowed his eyebrows. Ever since the end of the war and reports we're delivered, everyone's defenses were up on high alert. Regardless of the threat that was sensed, there wasn't really peace to be had among those in the village for now. Fanho patted the guard on his back as he gave him a reassuring grin. "Well I'm here now guys, you can rest easy." The Hokage walked forward as he stood in-front of Mamoru clapping his hands as he leaned forward placing his hands on his knees getting eye level with Mamoru.

At a close glance his hair was similar to that of Zakuro, very young however, but not out of the range of Zakuro to have a kid. An odd yet familiar aura to his chakra signature as well. Usually derived from an already known one, usually parent lineage.

"Who might this rapscallion be hiding among the scallions?"

[Rain21199]

In that vulnerable moment, face to face with the imposing figure of the white-robed man, Mamoru felt the full force of his desperation and regret. Suddenly, Mamoru's sobs reverberated through the air, mingling with the cascade of raindrops falling from above. His small frame trembled with fear and despair as tears streamed down his reddened cheeks. The weight of his predicament bore down upon him, making it difficult to catch his breath amidst his uncontrollable sobs.

The rain continued its relentless descent, its icy touch mingling with his tears, creating a chilling sensation against his flushed skin. The surroundings seemed to blur in Mamoru's vision, his focus fixated solely on the man who now held his fate in his hands. His voice cracked, barely audible amidst his tear-strained gasps for air. "M...Mamoru," he managed to utter, his voice quivering with sorrow and apology. His words spilled forth, punctuated by fits of hiccups and sobs, an outpouring of remorse for the consequences he now faced.

Loneliness washed over him, amplifying his fear. The overwhelming desire to find his father, to confront him, had driven him to this point of recklessness. With each sob that racked his small frame, Mamoru's vulnerability laid bare for all to see. It was evident to anyone present that this child posed no threat, his emotions raw and unfiltered, a testament to his genuine innocence. The sincerity of his sorrow and longing hung palpably in the air, tugging at the heartstrings of those who witnessed his anguish.

Through teary eyes, Mamoru struggled to meet the gaze of the man before him. His trembling lips quivered as he attempted to articulate his desires amidst the storm of emotions that threatened to consume him. "I... j...just want," he stammered, his voice catching in his throat. He sniffled, his words punctuated by a deep, heartfelt sob. "-ed to find m...my d…daaad." The weight of his longing infused every syllable, his plea echoing through the rain-soaked surroundings. To those observing, it became evident that this young boy's desperate quest was driven by nothing sinister.

As Mamoru's voice faded into a prolonged cry, the depth of his emotions showed his vulnerability. The turmoil etched across his tear-stained face told a story of a child who, despite his shortcomings and misguided actions, yearned for nothing more than to bridge the chasm between himself and the absent figure he called his father.

[Director]

Fanho listened as Mamoru's voice cracked and quivered due to the coldness of the rain, and nervousness he must feel surrounded by tens of military men. What was thought to be a simple infiltration under the cover of rain now a bust and detainment much more frightening in reality than the imagined consequences of the eight year old boy. A boy who by his admission through sobs and sniffles on a hunt for his father. The Awai looked more intently before he realized who the boy before him reminded him of. The stark similarities made Fanho's assumption jump from a guess to within a eighty-percent certainty. This blonde spiky haired kid had to have been Zakuro's.

The Awai ruffled the blonde sopping wet hair of the boy before lifting him out of the cart. Fanho held his palm out as he nodded towards Mamoru. "I'm assuming you don't want to stay wet and cold the entire time, right?" He put his hand close to Mamoru's chest as he channeled a puff of chakra that riffled through Mamoru's clothes blasting the moisture out even going through his hair returning it to its dry spiked state. Then as the rain tried to re-soil Mamoru's clothes and hair Fanho reached up as he grabbed the Hokage's hat plopping it down on-top of the boy's head keeping him dry mostly before then taking his Hokage cloak off wrapping Mamoru in it the length just barely above the ground due to his short stature. It was waterproof and would keep him from getting wet once more. "Better than getting soaked with the scallions?"

The Awai thought once more feeling like something was missing. He then snapped his fingers as he made a lightbulb out of pure hiton for Mamoru to hold. It'd give off enough light to make the dreary day seem brighter and enough heat to give the shivering boy his comfort back. Fanho then held his hand out as he opened and closed it rapidly trying to get Mamoru to take his hand before lifting the kid up on his shoulders. The Konoha guards acting confused due to the Hokage's comforting actions and seemingly willingness to bring an unknown kid in the village. It wasn't abnormal for the Hokage to be kind, but to someone he was unfamiliar with seemed odd. "You guys get the farmer to where he's going? I'll take care of Mamoru here. I think I know who he might be."

The Awai walked with Mamoru in tow as they made their way to the village. At the least having Mamoru on top helped keep Fanho out of the rain, but it didn't bother the man. He was used to the elements and had been through much worse. "You know there's better places to hide than the vegetable cart, right? Though I guess you are young, still learning what plans work and don't work right?"

[Rain21199]

Slowly, tentatively, Mamoru reached out, fingers trembling as they made contact with the man's waiting palm. The gesture was confusing. A few seconds ago, Mamoru was certain that he was in big trouble, but now, he wasn’t so sure.

"I'm assuming you don't want to stay wet and cold the entire time, right?"

Mamoru's gaze flickered upwards, meeting the stranger's eyes with a sense of vulnerability.

"N-no sir…" Mamoru's voice wavered, his words barely audible over the pitter-patter of raindrops.

A gentle touch against his chest startled him, warmth spreading through his sodden clothes, chasing away the chill that had settled deep within his tiny body. Then, with surprising gentleness, a hat, comically oversized, was settled atop his head, shielding him from the rain.

"Better than getting soaked with the scallions?" The man's tone held a hint of amusement.

Mamoru nodded, causing the whole oversized hat to shift and obscure his face. A shy smile spread across Mamoru’s face, tugging at the corners of his lips.

The man's voice broke through the downpour once more. "You know there's better places to hide than the vegetable cart, right? Though I guess you are young, still learning what plans work and don't work, right?"

“Umm…” Mamoru's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, his gaze dropping to the ground. Weeks of planning had led him to this moment, a desperate attempt to reunite with his father. “I thought it was a good plan,” he confessed, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Sir!” he said suddenly. Mamoru's eyes lifted, hope flickering within their depths as he addressed the man before him. With a tilt of his head, the hat shifted, revealing the earnest expression that adorned his youthful features. “Are you taking me to my dad?”