This one!:

A yawn came over the gate-guard booth at Sunagakure no Sato's very border. The sliver that allowed other people outside the village, as well as those who belonged that were returning, to enter....it was barely noticeable, especially if there was a sandstorm. Even less-noticeable, perhaps: the small alcove-indentation-thing that served as a place for those on guard duty to wait. Essentially, it was the most boring job one could be assigned, as a Chuunin.

Taede, however, was practically bouncing up and down in his seat. This sort of thing was riveting to him. Normally, others would dread this sort of allotment, mission-wise. However, the Genin took pride in what he was asked to do: after all, this was something that normally Chuunin were assigned. Even as a menial task, it made Taede feel like he was contributing something, for once. It made him feel good, at any rate. That swelling in his chest.

And thus the junior-ninja sat. Sitting was his job now, another "new normal", he supposed....the first half of his shift passed without incidence or consequence. He simply sat, clearing those who had proper identification to enter. A book was his only weapon here, the listing of commerce and appointments that were registered to get through the gates. So far, this day was simply business-as-usual. Check, check, check did he inscribe in his tiny, tiny tome. No one, as of this time, had foisted themselves onto this thus-far-wonderful day that was going on. No intruders, no-one suspicious, and certainly no belligerents had come across the Genin's watchful gaze.

After all, even if he technically was not as qualified for the job, there was only one way in...and he was guarding it. Any way that someone might try to sneak it was covered, either by traps or by the look of an eye. And with the alarm right next to him, well....there was very, very little that could go wrong here.

He cast a glance over to the guard opposite him. Together, they had an essential monopoly on the visual space of the area. The older one's glance actually was returned by the Middle-ninja that was technically his junior....and he didn't know whether it was confusion or disdain that marked the uniformed one's face. Taede did suppose it was odd, after all, to not wear official flak jackets while on-duty. The sun being behind them rather than staring them in the face, he had quite a clear look at just how differently they were dressed. But he didn't believe in that sort of thing....individuality was practically all a ninja had these days. If one was to give up one's life and safety for their country...why would there be a need to give up one's sense of self?

Thus did Taede muse, in the space of an extraordinarily long yawn. He did, thankfully, manage to keep his eyes open, if only squinted, for its rather lengthy duration. And what he opened his eyes to....was simply not something he was sure he could deal with. No way.

[535]

It was something that a messenger hawk's pay-load had warned them, him and his partner both, about. (Earlier in the day, nonetheless; they had thought nothing of it due to it having been calm until the current time.) A produce caravan was supposed to have been infiltrated by some band of illegal weapons dealers. Purported to be an offshoot of the Land of Woods's Han'ya Black Ops from long ago, extremist groups like this very commonly made their hideouts and transport routes in the desert. It was admittedly true that Suna didn't keep a super-tight watch on the Land of Wind as a whole.

At any rate, the caravan approached at a rather lax pace, as was its normal, Taede imagined. He admittedly was slacking just a tad, studying the scrolls that he had found in the Sunagakure no Sato Archives. They were no more in number than six, so he took them with him in a rather beat-up knapsack he had laying around at home. He was good at finding the material he needed, but he never quite grasped how he had that knack. A burning desire to immerse himself in certain materials.

His reading, of course, was cut off. An inspection was to be had of this caravan. Just routine, he had hoped, and he was sure that his comrade was the same.

Oi. Koizumi, get the cabbage carts. I'll handle the fruit.

A sigh. He wish people would refer to him by his given name. Seems that Suna military operations stuck to surnames. He didn't mind it, granted...it was that little bit of childish-ness that made him want to be recognized as an individual. That person was not here, right now. He was stuffed in the bag with those scrolls....and the person here right now was all business. Taede was exceedingly good at what he did. And he did it....in his own sort of way.

The Genin took a quick gander at all sides of the cart holding the cabbages. The external evaluation turned out fine....now it was time to dig deeper. For Taede, this was quite literal. Instead of looking in the cabin that was pulling the cart, the young man instead carefully relocated the rotund leaf vegetables away from a specific area.

As they shifted out of the way, the bottom of the cart became clear. And in it:

Explosive tags. Rather, the inscriptions for explosive tags. It was....a very dangerous situation. While he attempted to be discreet up until this point, Taede knew what he needed to do. It was a lucky thing that objects did not equate to people.

So, this would be painless. "Amrivitjana Reverse Palm!"

With his back-of-hand thrusting strike, the cart shattered. He felt a little sorry for the unawares owner of the caravan. His noted quote for the mission record:

"MY CABBAGES!"