Spying on a Fishing Pole (Mission)

[Jim]

Jim's wide-brimmed hat was fitted with cloth around its rim, reaching down to his neck line, and a few pounds of non perishable food and about two gallons of water were strapped snuggly onto his back.

Jim was ready to travel in the giant sandbox that was the Wind Country.

He was still, technically, in Earth, but sand had begun to blow in his face fifteen minutes ago--promting Jim to tuck the cloth attached to his hat into his collar.

It had been a long time since Jim had truly trekked through the world. A few years had passed since his surveying and smuggling days, and, even then, he had only traveled within the Earth Country.

"I don't think I've ever been to the Wind's Capital before. Let's see..." Jim pondered, chin tucked into his hand while he walked along the worn path, "If I remember correctly, one of my clients was from there. Never met the guy, but I think that's where he held his headquarters."

Jim let the thought trail off into nothingness and concentrated on the task at hand. He had to infiltrate a fishing company, probably involving lying his way in. Nothing he hadn't done before, but, once again, that was a few years ago, and he'd probably gotten rusty since then.

"At least I don't have to start up my old ways with anything difficult, like breaking into a Village, or something like that."

Not that Jim was capable of breaking into a Hidden Village, but, who knows, maybe in a few years he would be.

With that final though, a spray of sand flew up into Jim's face, like the tide coming into the shore.

He had reached the Wind's border.

[Umehara]

[. Moved upon request]

[Jim]

Jim had forgotten what a desert felt like, as if someone was attempting to slowly torment you, searing your body little by little until you broke. That is, if your weren't prepared, and Jim had a gallon and a half of water left, pounds of dried food, and a large piece of cloth surrounding his head.

I suppose you could say that he had a very good imagination.

While he walked, Jim scanned the area, looking for passers by and examining the rudimentary map and coordinates he had copied from his encyclopedias back home. He was on course, as far as he could tell, and there was nothing but himself, a sea of rolling beige, and a giant yellow orb.

"Not all that different from the badlands in Earth, just more--" Jim's eyes teared up in reaction to the sprays of sand that flew up into his face, "granular."

It had been about one and a half days since he left Earth, and was making surprisingly good time, due to the lack of sand storms. The last time Jim had traveled through Wind, he and his brothers had to huddle behind their carts almost half a dozen times to keep from being buried alive.

Jim spotted a dot out on the horizon. He pulled out his newly purchased binoculars, put them to his faced, and focused in on the dot.

"A peddler."

Actually, it was more than just one person; it was a small caravan. There were three carts lined up in single file, a few men and women riding in them, along with piles of wares, and about two men per cart walking alongside. They were too far away to observe more closely.

About five minutes passed before, out of boredom, Jim decided to take a look at the group again.

He focused in on one of the men walking with the carts. He was light skinned, and wore clothing that was completely inappropriate for the desert. Jim chuckled slightly and scanned the rest of the man’s clothing. He was carrying a sword... and wearing a headband.

Jim focused further in. Even though Jim was fairly far out, he could make out a vague impression of a swirl and a triangular shape on the bottom left.

“Konoha. Must be their mission to escort them…”

Jim had had to deal with the Hidden Leaf before, but on more friendly terms, that of a businessman. Now, he was an Iwakagure Nin—an enemy.

”Just take off the armband, and give them a wide birth. I don’t have any problems with them.”

And so Jim did. He took the Iwa band off of his arm, tucked it into his pouch, and made sure to give them about a hundred feet of give.

The next thirty minutes went like a small tidal pool next to a raging ocean. Finally the moment came. Jim analyzed the small group as they passed him. Four of the people alongside the carts were Leaf Nin, and, to Jim’s further surprise, three were children. By the looks of it, they couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. One of them even waved casually at him. The fourth was a red-haired man who looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties. The man looked Jim over from the corner of his eye and didn’t give another signification of his existence.

Absolutely nothing happened. It was like passing a stranger on a country road, both having their own business to tend to and not particularly caring for the other’s.

“Maybe I should just leave my band on next time something like that happens,” pondered Jim.

He, however, didn’t tie it back onto his arm. This was espionage, even though it was on a minuscule scale, and Jim thought it was best if Iwakagure couldn’t be easily linked with his actions.

A silhouetted arc rose upon the horizon, with bumps along its rim.

“Must be the Capital.”

Jim smirked in subdued anticipation. He was going to return to his old ways, even if only for a few days, and even if only spying on a fishing pole. He was conning.

After about an hour, Jim had reached the bustling entrance to the capital, carts and donkeys as prevalent as people. It wasn’t Jim entering the Capital, though.

Noeigi Wright was traveling to the Sand’s capital as a small businessman from the Wave Country, specializing in recreational and small-scale professional fishing equipment. He even had business cards prepared, reading, “Wright’s Poles and Bait.”

Emphasis on the word, “bait.”

[Koori.]

Moved.