[ JINICHI WATARU ]
I exhaled a slow breath, letting the smoke of my Transformation Jutsu dissipate into the salty ocean breeze. For the last two hours, I hadn't been Jinichi Wataru, Genin of the Hidden Leaf. I had been 'Kenta Miyakumo' a scrawny, overworked dockhand scrubbing barnacles off a massive wooden trade vessel. It was a miserable, backbreaking disguise, but it was perfect. Nobody paid attention to the hired help.
As I aggressively scrubbed the damp planks of the pier, my ears were dialled entirely into the conversations of the wealthy merchants boarding the neighbouring ships.
'A grand gala in the Land of Tea,'
I thought to myself, wringing out a filthy rag into a wooden bucket.
'Hosted by some obscenely wealthy merchant named Baji Kusuke.'
According to the loose-lipped nobles pacing the docks, Baji's upcoming party was the social event of the decade. It was pulling in elites, tycoons, and politicians from across the elemental nations. The most prominent name dropped by the merchants was Lord Kazuto, the direct advisor to the Land of Fire's Daimyo.
The nobles had laughed and gossiped about Kazuto's rather strange insistence on bringing his personal tailor along for the journey. They openly mocked him for his vanity, claiming he needed his clothes meticulously adjusted mid-party just to maintain his political appearances.
'That doesn't add up'
I mused, tossing the rag back into the soapy water.
'You don't hire a shinobi escort for a seamstress just to fix a hem at a party. There's something they aren't telling us.'
Satisfied with my haul of information, I slipped into a narrow, shadowed alleyway between two towering warehouses, releasing the chakra holding my henge. A puff of white smoke cleared, restoring my dark blue combat suit. I leaned against the damp brickwork, waiting in the shadows for my teammates to rendezvous, hoping they had found something a bit more concrete.
[ AOI SETSUNA ]
I forced the most sickeningly sweet smile I could possibly muster, placing a heavy tray of foaming mugs onto the sticky tavern table.
'If this drunk tries to touch my skirt one more time, I am going to break his fingers,'
I promised myself, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached. I had transformed myself into a slightly older, unassuming barmaid with plain brown hair. It was a humiliating disguise, but it worked wonders. Drunk sailors and traveling mercenaries loved to brag to a pretty face.
"So, you're really heading to the Merchant's gala?" I asked, pitching my voice higher to sound entirely too innocent and impressed.
The armored mercenary puffed out his chest, taking a massive gulp of his ale.
"You bet, sweetheart. Easiest ryo I'll ever make. Baji's hired half the continent's mercenaries to guard the perimeter. Nobility from all over are coming. Even Lord Kazuto, the Daimyo's right hand! Though why he's dragging his personal tailor all the way there is beyond me. Must be a vanity thing."
I kept my bright smile plastered on, but internally, I let out a massive groan.
'That's the exact same rumor I heard at the last three tables!'
It seemed the entire port only cared about the glamorous guest list and the sheer amount of money this Baji guy was throwing around. Gathering my empty tray, I slipped out the back door of the tavern. I dropped my transformation in a quiet alley, dusting off my actual uniform with a frustrated sigh. I just hoped Jinichi and Kisuke had better luck.
[ KISUKE YOROI ]
Tavern gossip was always loud and boastful, but the truth was usually found in the quiet, desperate corners of a city. I had opted for a vastly different approach to my information gathering.
Transformed into a hunched, ragged beggar wrapped in a filthy cloak, I sat in the mud near the entrance of the port's underground black market. I kept my head bowed, a small wooden bowl in my hands, completely ignored by the unsavory characters exchanging coin and dark secrets in the shadows.
"You're an idiot if you take that job," a gruff voice hissed from the narrow alcove to my left. I didn't move my head, but I focused my chakra into my ears to amplify the sound.
"It's a massive payout!" a second man argued desperately. "The bounty on the tailor—Tenka Nakamura. The employer wants her alive. The poster just dropped a few days ago."
'A bounty?'
My polite, internal demeanor shattered, replaced by a cold, sudden spike of alarm.
'Our client has a target on her back.'
"Yeah, and do you know why the payout is so high?" the gruff man sneered softly. "Because they only gave us a name. No face, no physical description. Just 'Tenka Nakamura, tailor.' But worse than that... Takezo Asauchi took the contract."
I recognized the name immediately from the whispers I had heard during my earlier reconnaisance. My pulse quickened. Takezo was a rogue shinobi, a brutal ronin who followed a twisted, uncompromising personal creed. He was legendary in the underground for his unmatched, lethal kenjutsu.
"Takezo is hunting her?" the second man whispered, his voice suddenly trembling.
"Worse. Takezo is hunting her and us." the gruff man corrected grimly.
"Rumor is, he's killing any other bounty hunter who accepts the job to reduce his competition. If you go after the tailor, Takezo will find you and gut you before you even reach the Land of Tea. Drop the contract. It's suicide."
[ JINICHI WATARU ]
I leaned against the brick wall of our designated rendezvous point, watching as Aoi dropped silently from a rooftop and landed lightly beside me. A few moments later, Kisuke materialized from the shadows of the street, his expression unusually pale and grim.
"Let's hear it," I said, crossing my arms over my poncho. "What did you two get?"
"Nothing useful," Aoi complained, crossing her arms in a perfect mirror of my stance. "Baji is hosting a massive gala. It's heavily guarded. Lord Kazuto is attending, and everyone thinks he's a vain idiot for bringing his tailor. It's the same basic, boring gossip everywhere."
"I got the exact same details at the docks," I sighed, feeling a heavy wave of disappointment wash over me. "It seems we're just escorting a seamstress to a high-society dress fitting. C-rank indeed."
"I am afraid," Kisuke interjected, his voice tight and completely devoid of its usual polite warmth,
"Our mission has violently escalated beyond a C-rank. We have a severe problem."
Aoi and I turned to him, the casual disappointment instantly vanishing from our faces.
"What did you find, Kisuke?" I asked, my hand instinctively drifting toward the reinforced gourd of iron sand resting on my hip.
"There is an active, high-paying underground bounty on Tenka Nakamura's head." Kisuke explained rapidly, his eyes darting toward the main street to ensure we weren't being watched. "The bounty hunters only have her name and profession, but no physical description. That is likely why her attire is so remarkably plain—she is attempting to blend in with commoners to avoid identification."
"A bounty changes things," Aoi muttered, her green eyes widening in realization. "We need to inform Sensei—"
"That is not the worst of it," Kisuke interrupted, holding up a hand. "The contract was picked up by Takezo Asauchi. A highly lethal rogue ninja specializing in kenjutsu. Furthermore, he is actively slaughtering any other bounty hunters attempting to track her, effectively monopolizing the hunt."
"Takezo..." a lazy, dangerous drawl echoed from above us. We looked up to see Shohei dropping down from a rusted fire escape, his usual sleepy demeanor entirely replaced by cold, hardened focus. "I know the name. The man is a monster with a blade."
Shohei looked at the three of us, his eyes lingering on Kisuke with a slow nod of profound approval.
"Excellent intelligence gathering, Kisuke. You likely just saved our lives. The dynamic of this mission just changed. We are no longer on a leisurely stroll."
He turned sharply, gesturing for us to follow him out of the alley.
"We aren't waiting for tomorrow morning. We are heading to the docks right now. We secure a sailor immediately, and we leave for the Land of Tea tonight before Takezo can pinpoint her location. Let's move."
....
Miles away, in a dimly lit, damp basement reeking of stale sake and rusted iron, a solitary figure sat at a scarred wooden table. The man wore a dark, specialized breathing mask that obscured the lower half of his face, his cold, dead eyes staring blankly at the wood. His scarred hand rested lightly on the hilt of a worn, blood-stained katana strapped to his hip.
The heavy iron door groaned open, and a nervous, sweating informant scurried into the room. The informant didn't dare look the masked swordsman in the eyes. His hands shook violently as he unrolled a fresh piece of parchment and slapped it down onto the table.
"The... the boss sent me," the informant stammered, taking a fearful, hurried step back toward the door.
"He says this is it, Takezo. This is your final job. You bring the girl to him alive, and you finally gain your freedom. He swears it."
Takezo didn't speak. He didn't even acknowledge the trembling man's presence. Instead, in a terrifying blur of motion too fast for a normal eye to track, he drew a kunai and slammed it downward. The heavy blade pierced the center of the bounty poster with a deafening crack, burying deep into the thick wood of the table.
The informant flinched, scrambling out of the room and rapidly locking the heavy iron door behind him. Left alone in the suffocating, dark silence, Takezo slowly lowered his gaze.
The perspective narrowed, zooming in closely on the violently pinned parchment on the table. The kunai was driven straight through the bold, black ink that read the target's name: Tenka Nakamura.