A Long Winter, and a Chance to Thaw

[Jinan B]

”You will never gain fame from your fighting. Is this surprising to you?”
”No,” I said truthfully.
”Yet it is not beyond you to be a competent soldier. Do you wish to learn this?”
I thought of the boy's dulled eyes, how quickly his blood had soaked the ground. I thought of my companion, the greatest warrior of his generation. I thought of those who would take him from me if they could.
”No,” I said.
And that was the end of our lessons in soldiery.

The sound of sailor’s calls roused Kinsue from his torpor. Land had been sighted, and they would soon arrive in the welcoming docks of Kazusa province. A merchant family indebted to the Karagata had been kind enough to offer their estate to the upcoming negotiations. It would be several days of fine luxury outside of the village, offered both to Kinsue’s delegation and their Ocha Province counterparts.

The young noble laid down his book and made for the upper deck. The crew were scurrying this way and that, securing the lines that would be used to pull his ship into place. They worked effortlessly around him as he slowly made his way towards the ship’s prow. They had become used to his slow, inattentive pace on the passages he had made before.

Anyone looking from the shoreline would see a fine luxury trading vessel pulling into port. Emblazoned on its stringently maintained white hull were the words Futoji Warai. Years ago, Kinsue had almost been killed due to the then-captain of the Warai. He had since taken some small pleasure in adding the vessel to his small trading fleet. It made a fine ship to use for such events, clear as it was that it had been expensive to acquire. Kinsue’s partners would be reminded that the Karagata did not need their business to stay afloat.

His thoughts drifted to the shinobi he expected to meet upon arriving at the estate. The noble had submitted a request for additional protection during the proceedings; standard procedure for this kind of journey. Kinsue imagined he would find a pair of ambitious genin, eager to make the acquaintance of the legendary Shinjiro’s cousin. Or perhaps, it would be older shinobi who had long since given up their dreams of ascending beyond chuunin. Anything more would be a waste of Kirigakure’s most precious resource, the men and women of conviction that gave it its pre-eminence.

Someone called his name, interrupting Kinsue’s thoughts, and he turned from the view of the shoreline. His aide stood behind him, papers in hand. Final details that needed to be squared off before their arrival. He allowed himself to be led away off the deck, the hurried words of the bean counter washing over him.

In the end, the day was just like so many others had been. Like so many others would be again.

OOC Note: The book extract is The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (slightly paraphrased).

[Valkier]

"Sir?"

Naohiro leaned back and frowned as an aide, carrying a stack of papers in his arms tall enough to obscure his face, staggered forward and dumped the lot on Naohiro's desk.

"What's this, Ikuro?" He lifted a paper from the top of the pile and his frown deepened. "There are...Why are you giving these to me?" But he guessed the answer almost as soon as the question left his lips: because there's no one else. He sighed and cleared his earlier work away to make some room, then began sifting through and organising the teetering stack of Kirigakure mission requests. Ikuro, sensing his boss's mood, bowed and left him to it.

More and more since the invasion, the day-to-day administration of the village was falling to men like Naohiro. The bureaucracy was a mess. Inconsistent, unpredictable. And all because the so-called "council", sitting themselves in the hall of the Mizukage's tower, were incompetent. There was no other word for it. A bunch of ambitious hopefuls dreaming of power who wasted the majority of their time and efforts trying to manoeuvre around one another, playing at House politics while the village fell apart around them, ignored or mishandled. Naohiro's grip tightened upon his brush; this wouldn't have happened a year ago, with Kasai in power. Or six years ago, with Kai. Or perhaps ever—Kirigakure had never been without a Mizukage or contenders for it. Some of this batch of councillors were reasonably skilled shinobi, but it was becoming more and more apparent that whatever their skills in the field, their authority at home was the result of wild exaggeration. In a way, it wasn't even their fault; the best of them had died to Kai. Well, to Kohon, he the weapon in Kai's left hand. And then Kasai had surely spent his incumbent years ruthlessly stamping out any hint of ambition or true excellence within the upper echelon of Kirigakure's political heavyweights. Only the dregs remained. Dregs, and men like Naohiro, with too much sense to want to play such games.

And so here he sat, digging through lists of requests for shinobi assistance. He suspected that if these papers had arrived with the council, as they likely should have, most of the pile would've been shredded in the scramble to be the one to manage it, and the surviving sheets would very likely have been discarded unless they served the immediate interests of whichever fool came out on top. Perhaps Shiv could've curated the pile—he had the experience, Commander of the Division as he was—though it would be a small miracle to find the man anywhere now but at the bottom of a bottle. No wonder then that Ikuro had come to Naohiro, Shiv's effective second, and now well-regarded thanks to his efforts in the war.

Suddenly Naohiro paused, and his many grievances over the "council" vanished from his mind. One short request, a third of the way down the pile, leaped out at him. The mission itself was nothing overly noteworthy—escort duty, really—but the name of the petitioner most assuredly was.

"Karagata Kinsue..." Naohiro read the name aloud, his tone pensive. How many years now, since he'd crossed paths with his old friend and rival? Kinsue had been a rising star among his family, toe-to-toe with Naohiro's own ability, right up until his sudden and unexplained retirement. The why of it still bothered Naohiro to this day, but he'd long ago given up hope of receiving a straight answer. The best he could assume was familial pressure from the Karagata, but it still made no sense to lose a talent such as Kinsue's. He almost crumpled the mission request there and then in the vain hope that, by having to defend himself instead of relying upon another ninja, Kinsue could be brought back to his original calling. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

Or was it? Slowly Naohiro pushed the other papers aside and reread Kinsue's mission request. Scout and secure the site of a business deal. Watch his back. The standard stuff of which genin and chuunin made their living. But not today. What were the odds that he'd stumble across his old friend's name today, of all days, and in such roundabout and chaotic circumstances? He chose instead to think it fortuitous, as he penned his own name on the assignee line. Now more than ever, he—no, Kirigakure—could use a man like Karagata Kinsue.

---

Several days later, the fabric of space folded itself around Naohiro's will and he stepped from the headquarters of the Head Hunter Division in Kirigakure to a shaded grove in a small village near the coasts of Kazusa province, courtesy of the Division's secretive black network. From there it was a short run of just a few hours to the mission location, the personal estate of some well-to-do merchant family, and he wasted no time making his way there ahead of Kinsue's scheduled arrival.

He arrived at the estate with a few hours to spare, and after performing a preliminary sweep of the grounds, house, and scanning the vicinity with sensory techniques until he was satisfied that there were no obvious threats, he settled down in a hidden position near the house to observe the environment. And to think. He considered remaining here, waiting and watching, until Kinsue arrived and to guard him anonymously from afar. Then he considered jumping out at his old friend, mid-business-deal, to upset his plans in the hope of forcing him back into a different career path. He smiled at the thought but dismissed it immediately; he knew Kinsue, and Kinsue took his work seriously. Naohiro wanted their reunion to begin on good terms, not on the tail end of a harmful prank. And besides, there were times and places for humour, and when two men were comparing contracts was not one of them.

And so Naohiro eventually snuck back out of the estate, mentally mapping the grounds as he did so, and began walking towards the docks. Already he could see the ship—he thought he might even recognise the vessel—in the distance and growing steadily closer. He reached the shore-side end of the docks just as the crew were tying off its lines. There, standing tall and regal as only an Aisu could, he waited to see his old friend once again...

[Jinan B]

There was little left to do on the Warai; simply finalize the last remaining clauses in Kinsue’s proposal. In truth, the new liaisons he had employed in Ocha province had made the entire deal comfortably simple; papering over the cracks and misunderstandings that inevitably arose in a negotiation of any magnitude. Kinsue intended to spread them out among his more important partners once this deal was through.

Nevertheless, his aide had never been satisfied before without preparing the noble for every gritty detail that could possibly arise at an event like this. Katsurou had procured the older man for Kinsue once he had begun to work independently. He had a keen eye for detail, and a demeanor that Kinsue never found himself capable of arguing with on such matters.

A call came from outside his quarters: ”Cap’n! Everythin’s ready fer yew!” The boatswain’s call was the cue for the pair to finally disembark. Kinsue and the aide took their leave of the ship’s underbelly, a brief nod directed to the long-suffering sailor who had signaled them.

The docks themselves seemed unremarkable. Sufficient enough to serve the traffic that passed through the area, but lacking anything that might have marked it out beyond a sailor’s convenience. The sight would never have held Kinsue’s eye, had the regal image of Aisu Naohiro not been stood proudly at their berth.

The man was unmistakable to Kinsue, no matter how many years may have passed since their last meeting. Yet, thought came slowly as he gazed upon him. We were rivals, once, he mused. How long ago had that been? What did it matter?

Slower still, were the thoughts of why he was here. He must have accepted Kinsue’s mission request, and for such a thing to be a coincidence was impossible. Some ulterior motive had to be at play. Did the village have intel of a threat to the deal being made? Why would they not have informed him ahead of time? Perhaps, something more personal was at stake. Kinsue frowned; whatever the Aisu’s game was, he doubted that it would bode well for him.

Yet, some small part of him must have thought, it had been so long since he had last seen his old companion.

He stepped off from his ship onto the waiting jetty. Perhaps Naohiro would’ve expected a smile, and a friendly greeting. If so, he would not receive it. ”You could have asked to see me, Aisu-san. This is beneath you.” No doubt Naohiro would understand that the tone carried in his voice was not hostile. Rather, it was simply distant. Lifeless. Not at all like the boy he had once known so well.

[Valkier]

In the days since picking out that surprising mission request Naohiro had run through the reunion with Kinsue a dozen times or more in his head. But now, facing his old friend, all of his carefully prepared openings and perfectly rehearsed reactions were swept away like dust in the wind at Kinsue's tone. He'd anticipated shock and surprise. Excitement, disbelief. Maybe blasé humour or even mild-mannered suspicion. He'd expected something. And the total lack of it cut deeper than he'd thought possible. His jaw tightened.

"Would you have agreed to see me, if I had?" He kept his own tone serious and schooled his face to calmness. He'd tried to visit his friend many times, years ago, after Kinsue first vanished from active service. His efforts had not been fruitful. He watched his old friend for a moment now, noting the downward cast to his eyes, the invisible weight upon the man's shoulders. The unexpected age upon his face. This... Was not going to be as simple as he had first thought.

Well, if that was the way of it, he would play the game; there were none alive who could out-formalise Naohiro of the Aisu, and he wanted to give Kinsue no reason to dismiss him now. He squared his footing and bowed, sweeping the legendary cloak Desire out behind him in a practised flourish. He could offer his old friend that much, at least.

"My Lord Karagata," he intoned, "I am here now as ordered, and am at your service. The estate is clear and waiting for you. This way, please, when you are ready."

He would wait patiently, not meeting Kinsue's eye but very much watching surreptitiously to learn all he could of the man's manner. Something about him was very, very wrong. This wasn't the Kinsue he remembered. For now he'd play it safe and learn what he could of Kinsue's situation while trying to build some level of trust; they would have plenty of time to talk later, once the business was concluded.

[Jinan B]

If there was one skill Kinsue had cultivated over the past 5 years, it was the ability to read the emotions of those around him. When it came to Naohiro in particular he also had years of experience with the man working in his favor. Yet, the shinobi’s response had caught the noble off-guard. He had mis-stepped somewhere; that was clear enough.

He remembered those times when Naohiro had extended invitations to him. At the time, he had seen no choice but to turn them down. The work had been overwhelming at first; leaving no time to make social calls with his former friends. No time to do much of anything; to visit the theater as he once had, or to pursue romance as his family encouraged. Kinsue’s home had become the only comfort he could keep. By the time the work had calmed down, such a life seemed normal to him.

He had believed that Naohiro stopped reaching out because he also had been preoccupied with other matters. Perhaps even because he had moved on from wanting to see Kinsue at all. That thinking paled now before the shinobi. Clearly he needed to say something, but the words escaped him until Naohiro continued on.

The procedure of his old friend's words was something he could escape to now, so Kinsue simply nodded his ascent and followed his old friend to a waiting carriage. The estate would be a short trip away, with gifts, supplies, servants, and paperwork prepared in advance brought up through the afternoon. The aide would be sure to arrange everything, leaving the noble to his own devices for a time.

The carriage was finely furnished; with silk-covered cushions and shade curtains that held the high heat of the island at bay. Aside from the driver, it would only be the two men present within the ample space of the vehicle. Even if it had been three weaker shinobi who had answered Kinsue’s mission request, they all would have been comfortable.

To his mind, however, there was a tension that prevented him from feeling remotely settled. He could not afford to remain silent much longer. A short time into the journey he would finally speak; barely more than a whisper.

”Forgive me. I was kept busy. Especially after I first resigned.” His excuses would not be adequate, but there was little more that he could say.

He allowed himself to look his old friend in the eye, for a moment. He took in Naohiro’s bright blue eyes, and the way his hair settled perfectly over his pale neck. All of these were as they had always been, but seemed foreign now. Strength radiated from the Aisu in a way Kinsue did not recall.

”You look… Well," he managed after some time. Words were continuing to fail the Karagata. The space between the two had widened beyond something he knew how to bridge.

[Valkier]

After quickly re-checking the interior of the carriage for threats, Naohiro stepped back and allowed Kinsue to enter and settle first before sitting down himself. There they sat in a rather uncomfortable silence, with Naohiro letting his old friend stew over their greeting while they waited a frustratingly long amount of time for the carriage to be ready and begin moving. He'd almost forgotten the snail-pace at which civilians lived. He was reasonably sure he could have run to the estate and back in the time it took the lavish entourage to load some chests and finish their arrangements to leave the docks.

Eventually, Naohiro won the stalemate, and he quirked a very faint smile at Kinsue's words. Finally, a crack in the armour. Strike one. He waited a little longer, drawing out the moment, then met and held Kinsue's gaze.

"I wish I could say the same, old friend." This time, his voice betrayed some concern. It was... difficult... to see Kinsue after all this time only to see him so... unresponsive. "Is it really so bad to see me again? To travel together, like old times? I thought ours to be good memories." He frowned, thinking back to their youth. At the time, Kinsue had claimed he was leaving his role as a ninja to answer his family's calling in a time of need, even though he had never seemed to agree too strongly with some of their practices. The explanation had never sat right with Naohiro, but he'd tried to respect it—and, moreover, been forced to accept it, when it became clear that Kinsue did not wish to see him again. This had been his assumption through all these years, but what if there was more to it?

"... Did I offend you?" It must be so, but when? How? "I am sure we were both busy, likely always, but even so. We could have found the time. Maybe even helped one another." Could it have been their chuunin exam, that so-closely-fought battle that had almost ended the pair of them? Surely not. Their bond, if anything, had been stronger than ever following it. Or so he'd thought. Kinsue had been so strong, and the pair of them poised for greatness.

He frowned at the various different avenues of thought, but nothing felt right. He was missing part of the story. And, damn it, he was going to figure it out. Before anything else, he had to know whether he and his old rival could still trust one another. The silence stretched to a gulf between them.

"I deserve an answer, Kinsue. What happened to you? Why did you leave?"

And suddenly it struck him, as keen as the cutting of Kinsue's greeting, why the situation bothered him so much. They'd been so close. And then Kinsue had abandoned him. After all the years apart, all their years on separate paths, those feelings were revealed now as those of betrayal.

[Jinan B]

Perhaps it had been a mistake to meet his old friend’s eye, for now Kinsue found that he could not look away. The worry in Naohiro’s voice was in equal parts unmistakable and unrecognizable. He had heard that tone before, many years ago. The memory came clearly to him. A younger Aisu, huddled miserably in a hollow in the ground. Naohiro, speaking gently, offered him a comb of all things alongside his compassion. Is that how the shinobi saw Kinsue now?

Then, he continued with harsher words. The noble found himself shocked. Of course he had wanted to see his old friend. How could the man have thought that he had offended? He wasn’t capable of causing Kinsue hurt to the extent he seemed to believe. Yet, there was nothing that he could say that would put things back how they had been. His face betrayed his surprise at what Naohiro had expressed, but no words would come to him.

Regret began to churn within him, breaking through the distance that he had built up over the years. His choices had broken a connection that he once held so dear, and now the result of it was staring him in the face. Naohiro was angry, a deeper anger than a friend had any right to cause.

And wasn’t he right, in this? For so many years Naohiro had been by his side. When he entered into the academy Naohiro was there, opening his heart to the students around him. When he began working in earnest as a genin Naohiro was there, as devoted as he was to upholding the ideals of the village. When he had been crushed in his first Chuunin Exam, it had been Naohiro that dealt the winning blows. The pair had faced death and the brink of civil war together, and they had always come out stronger for it. Until now.

So he deserved to know why Kinsue had deserted him, that much was clear. To admit that and tell him, however, was a different matter entirely.

”I’m sorry, Naohiro,” would be his response. ”I had no choice. I was no longer capable of serving as a shinobi.”

”Please, allow that to be enough. There is nothing more that I can say.” Kinsue’s voice was weak. For Naohiro, it would be clear to see the shame that he was feeling. Shame, and fear. Fear of the retribution of his closest friend.

The carriage was surely close to its destination now. The noble needed an escape from his old rival’s critical eye.

[Valkier]

Naohiro continued to hold Kinsue's gaze for a good while longer, letting the apology wash up against him ineffectually, though the anguish on his friend's face, and the pain in his words, certainly gave it weight. Eventually he gave a slow nod, and sighed.

"All right," he conceded, and looked away, letting some of the tension dissipate. Kinsue had clearly understood the point, and further pressure would only widen the rift between them now. Perhaps he would say more, one day, if Naohiro was skillful enough to nurture this one meeting into more. And that would have to be enough. Just as Naohiro deserved an explanation, Kinsue deserved the respect to withhold it. That Kinsue had acknowledged the issue was progress in itself.

The pair sat in silence for the rest of the journey, which for all its short distance seemed to take an age. The carriage rocked and squeaked as the packed earth of the coast path gave way to the paved road of the estate, and eventually it slowed to a halt. The coachman clambered down and opened the door with a bow. Naohiro rose first and stepped out, partly for Kinsue's safety, but also in search of fresh air and to give him friend a moment alone to recover. No doubt a moment to compose himself would help before meeting his contacts for business.

The estate itself was large and peaceful. A gentle wind whispered through the treeline on its border that ensured a degree of privacy from the world beyond, but the grounds inside included an expanse of ornamental gardens surrounding a sizeable manor and outbuildings, all of glistening white walls and tiled roofs. The carriage had pulled up just outside the ring of buildings in a wide, fountain-lined courtyard, and a small delegation awaited Kinsue and his entourage. Naohiro gave each of them a searching, critical look. One was clearly a footman, probably there to organise the baggage and accoutrements, and another was a smartly liveried head servant who, by her expression, was clearly frustrated at the time this was taking out of her day. Another was a house guard in a breastplate that had seen far too much polish and too little use, but it was the last man—a slightly rotund fellow with large eyes and an overbearing cloud of perfume about him—who approached and bowed low.

"My dear Lord Karagata, it is an honour to be able to host you at last! Welcome, please be welcome as my guest!" He began, cupping his hands and nodding a second little bow. It would have been a fine show of subservience had he not been offering it all to Naohiro instead. Naohiro quirked a faint smile and watched him squirm for a moment before stepping aside out of the way of the carriage door.

What followed was several minutes of profuse apologies, scraping bows and reassurances that Naohiro filtered out while watching their surroundings. Somewhere in the slew of words were mention of the Ocha Province entourage expected later that evening, and an offer to follow the group up to the manor for refreshments and a chance to rest away the journey. Naohiro stayed quiet and followed Kinsue's lead, staying a few paces behind his friend.

During a lapse in their host's blathering, no doubt for the man to recover his breath while trying to keep up with them, Naohiro stepped closer to Kinsue for the breadth of a few paces.
"Keep your eyes peeled, too," he muttered quietly, "you were always quick to spot anything amiss. I won't believe that your eyes have been slowed by dealing with businessmen instead of bandits." In Naohiro's experience, they were often one and the same. Then he fell back and continued watching the rest of the group and their surroundings, letting Kinsue lead on. It would be good for Kinsue to approach this event with the mindset of a shinobi, and Naohiro intended to remind him that he still could.

[Jinan B]

All right, he said. Kinsue was relieved; he could feel the weight of Naohiro’s judgment lesson even if it hadn’t entirely disappeared. Both of them seemed to know that this was not the end of it. The shinobi would not give up his desire to know the truth one day. If his old rival did not one day oblige, then perhaps that would be the end of them. Perhaps their bond would simply be forever diminished. Perhaps it already had been.

His thoughts were broken by the arrival of their carriage. Naohiro led the way, leaving Kinsue a moment to recollect himself. He took a breath, and felt the familiar mask he wore at these events slip on once more before he exited the coach.

Once exited, he saw Naohiro facing the bemusedly mistaken noble of the estate. He searched his memory for the name of their host: Tokudashi, was it? No, Tokudaiji. The Karagata had offered them consignments when their cash flow had faltered; saving them from bankruptcy. The aide had told him on the Warai.

”Tokudaiji-san. We appreciate your hospitality. I understand my partners are expected to arrive this evening?” He largely ignored the barrage of bluster that the merchant saw fit to send his way. In turn, he apologized, promised that the estate would meet his expectations, and invited him to tea with his family (apparently he had a young daughter with a bright mind and a promising future) before finally answering his question.

”That won’t be necessary. I have much to make ready, but I hope you will join us for a meal once they arrive.” Kinsue was sure he had been hoping for such an invitation, and some cordiality would be expected from the family as a return for his courtesy. At least he could guarantee someone there with a desire to talk. He didn’t bother to pay full attention to his response other than to ensure it contained nothing that warranted an answer. So many of these visits played out the same way, Kinsue had learned the right things to say as if they were second nature.

The party began to make their way into the estate, Naohiro whispering a warning to stay alert as they did. ”Very well,” he said; though he didn’t know what Naohiro expected would be the danger in such a place. Kinsue’s life hadn’t been truly threatened in years. He had learned that most bandits knew what it meant to attack a direct representative of the Karagata (especially one trained as a shinobi), and anyone more dangerous had been too busy deploying for war to worry about someone who wasn’t preparing to attack them. His work was safe, a stark contrast to what his life had been like before.

The furnishings inside the estate were extravagant, all leather and silk and fine wood, but Kinsue paid it little mind as he was led to his accommodation for the stay. He was more than ready to try and find some peace of mind after the unexpected stress of the journey here. Naohiro similarly would be shown his own way to fine accommodation (though furnished for multiple shinobi as was expected by the merchant). It would be several hours before the Ocha Province delegation arrived, and neither had any commitments to attend to before that happened.

It was a small blessing that Kinsue’s aide would be per-occupied throughout the afternoon, otherwise the noble was sure that he would find no rest. As it was, he settled down on the comfortable armchair within his room, and began to read.

---

“I cannot stop seeing it,” he said softly. “Her death.” I could not either; the gaudy spray of blood, the shock and pain in her eyes.
“It will not always be like that,” I heard myself say. “She was a girl and innocent. These will be men that you fight, warriors who will kill you if you do not strike first.”
He turned to look at me, his gaze intent.
“But you will not fight. You hate it.” If it had been any other man, the words would have been an insult.
“Because I don’t have the skill,” I said.
“I don’t think that is the only reason,” he said.
His eyes were green and brown as forest, and even in the dim light I could see the gold.
“Perhaps not,” I said, at last.

A knock on the door roused Kinsue from his torpor. It was the aide, come to say that the delegation had been sighted. The Karagata was expected to meet them, and proceed directly to the welcoming meal. It would be tedious, he was sure, especially after he had struggled to find peace in his time alone. Naohiro’s words still dragged through his mind, demanding answers from him.

Yet, it was his duty now. At least, considering the courtesies that his partners had shown him thus far, it would not be difficult. He rose, and began to make his way back to the entrance of the estate, prepared to meet face-to-face with the leader of the delegation.

[Valkier]

Naohiro followed behind the group as they made their way up and into the manor at the heart of Tokudaiji's estate, feeling alert and ready. He couldn't help it; it was just the mindset one adopted if one wanted to live through as many missions as he had. More than once, though, he had to remind himself that this was a run-of-the-mill assignment suited for trainee ninja some ten years his junior, and that there had been nothing untoward or even suggestive of danger thus far. He could lighten up a little, maybe. But would it be worth it—worth risking his friend—if something did go awry? No, never. And so he watched every shadow they passed, listened to every shuffling footstep in the area, and most of all kept a good watch upon Kinsue and their hosts alike.

A wide entrance hall greeted the party inside the estate, with a sweeping grand staircase all carpeted in reds and whites and aglow from a chandelier hanging above. Quite a show, for a country estate, though he suspected much of it was freshly prepared for the benefit of their guests. Or perhaps as a show, a silent power-play, to demonstrate the hosts' own comparative worth. Naohiro skimmed across it without much reaction, partly because the quality seemed rather drab to his own home, and partly because he'd already glimpsed into some of these halls and rooms earlier during his sweep of the grounds, quick as it had been. He made sure to be the first into each room, including and especially Kinsue's chamber, to be sure each was clear, and took the adjoining room for himself, despite the apalled protests of their host. It was a small servant's room, cramped and simple, designed to keep help near-at-hand for the comfort of the guest next door, but it would do perfectly fine for Naohiro's needs—he didn't plan on getting much night-time rest, anyway—once he bodily forced the current occupying servants out of the door into the hall. Funnily enough, none seemed too keen to push the issue with a Kirigakure shinobi, especially one looking like a lord himself.

Several hours came and went while the Kirigakure party rested and waited for the arrival of the Ocha Province delegation. Naohiro spent some time walking the estate and exploring the building, but spent most of it occupying himself with mundane, routine tasks—checking his equipment, fixing his hair in the reflection of a kunai, for his chosen room obviously bore no mirror, and eating a meal from his own rations—while becoming accustomed to the new environment. His years of training under the Head Hunter Divison had rewarded him with an extreme sensitivity, and while sitting in his little room he could make out the creak of floorboards beneath the feet of a servant in the attic, the rustling of drapes being drawn in a room across the manor, and the clatter and calls from the kitchens below. A gentle hum of conversation filled the building and, listening long enough, he even began to recognise some of the occupants, singling them out from the others. One of the laundry maids was old and shuffled in her gait. A guard in the courtyard outside had worn through the sole of one boot, making his stomping an uneven pattern on the cobblestones.

Eventually the murmur of activity grew, and sounds from outside—the servant's room had no window, of course—drew his attention. Making a snap decision, Naohiro left Kinsue to answer his summons and made his own way to the roof of the building, following the sounds of that earlier servant and finding an attic window from which to egress. Clinging close to the tiled roof, he ducked down in the shadow of a chimney to observe the arrival of Kinsue's business partners.

They were a small entourage, with fewer servants than he would have expected, but they gathered closely around their carriage and spoke little to the head servant or even to Tokudaiji as he hurried to meet them. But there was more about the party that gave him pause, and he peered at each of them closer, silently assessing. The way in which one man disembarked reminded him of the way a soldier moved, one who was used to being mindful of a sword at their waist, and the group as a whole seemed to pay too much attention to the estate, and to Kinsue's approaching group, rather than on their own concerns. One guard seemed uneasy, shifting his position and stance too often for someone used to the mundane role. Slowly, Naohiro began to revise his earlier assessment: this group had a wrongness about them that warranted further attention and caution.

Still watching from afar, he opened his senses visualised the group ahead in his mind's eye, assessing each of them. He was pleasantly surprised to feel the strength of Kinsue's chakra signature at the same time, but his satisfaction there was short-lived. If Kinsue was strong, two of the Ocha Province were equally so. But the man who stepped forwad at the head of the Ocha Province delegation seemed to have the chakra levels of a regular untrained civilian, and would pose no threat to even a retired shinobi. And as he watched, the group met with Kinsue and spoke without apparent hostility. Were those two guards a threat to his friend, or not? Was their boss perhaps just flexing—much like Tokudaiji's grand entryway below—showing off his power in an attempt to avoid being used by the formidable Karagata? It was... possible.

For now, Naohiro would have to trust to Kinsue's lead, and continued to watch from afar, but his body was tensed and ready to leap into action if necessary...

[Jinan B]

The mask slipped back on as Kinsue exited the front of the estate. He saw that Tokudaiji was already outside, in the midst of welcoming his new guests to his home. Kinsue took a moment to look over the entourage – servants, samurai, and merchant all – before he continued forwards.

The centerpiece of it all was the man addressing Tokudaiji directly. He looked to be of an age with Kinsue, with a finely trimmed beard and auburn hair combed so as to frame the right side of his face. He wore a finely made purple haori over while, the rich fabric clearly custom tailored for him, and a matching amethyst earring hang from his left ear. For a moment, Kinsue thought he saw the edge of a tattoo peek out from the outfit’s collar before the fabric shifted again to cover it. This was the man who had led the remote negotiations: Ukita, Nishio.

Kinsue’s mask bore a smile as he approached. ”Ukita-san, be welcome here. I hope your journey was comfortable?” He asked his partner-to-be. Ukita offered him a bow, and the noble responded in turn.

”Lord Karagata, such a pleasure for us to finally meet. The waters were not calm, but I think seeing you more than makes up for it.” He was a flatterer then, Kinsue thought, though he was better at it than Tokudaiji was. Nishio seemed to have a careless confidence to him that their host lacked.

He was expected to play along, of course. He broadened his smile, and nodded appreciatively. ”You flatter me. I hope you’ll find the quarters suitable. In an hour’s time there will be food ready for us in the main hall; and we can speak further. The servants will show you.”

The first meetings were often short, a few exchanged pleasantries before the guests were allowed to settle and calm themselves. Nishio thanked him, and was led away by the stern-looking head-servant who had welcomed Kinsue earlier. Later there would come more small talk, and finally the substance of why they were here would be brought up the next morning.

But it wasn’t the delegation that occupied Kinsue’s mind as he turned back for his quarters. He looked to the sides of the estate, at its windows, and finally to the roof before he spotted the slight shadow that surely was Naohiro. Of course he would’ve been close at hand. The Karagata was glad for the space, at least for now. His old rival would have to make himself known sooner or later, and they would both face the challenge of making sure the tension between them was not apparent.

Before that, however, Kinsue would be afforded more time in isolation. He had an hour to prepare for the dinner, and the aide would not disturb while he was getting ready.

NishioShow

[Valkier]

Naohiro continued to watch, moving positions twice, while the two groups completed their pleasantries and parted ways. He kept his attention on the newcomers for a few minutes after Kinsue had disappeared back into the building below him, and only abandoned his vantage once the Ocha Province delegation walked close enough to risk detecting him. It was unlikely, still, but the two strong guards made him act cautiously.

Back inside, he wasted little time in reaching Kinsue's room and had a palm against the man's door, pushing it open, before Kinsue's aide reached out an arm and stalled him.

"I am sorry, Aisu-san, but he should not be disturbed now. He is getting..." The man's voice quavered and died under Naohiro's flat stare, eye to eye. He took a deep breath and was gathering his courage to stand his ground when Naohiro cocked his head, smiled, and moved him aside with no apparent effort.

Naohiro took two steps into the room and froze, suddenly aware of why the aide had dared stand up to him. Kinsue was very clearly in the middle of getting changed. Naohiro quickly averted his eyes and coughed to announce his presence.

"Sorry, Ki.. I mean, my sincere apologies for barging in, Kinsue." He bowed, and stayed inclined for longer than necessary as a convenient way to keep his attention elsewhere.

"I had hoped to talk with you about your partner's party from Ocha Province... Should I return later?" He hesitated, then added for good measure, "I... don't like it. Two of the men in the delegation are surprisingly strong, but hiding it, and something about their manner is... wrong." He risked a glance upwards to see if he had Kinsue's attention, then straightened but turned aside.

"Are you sure you can trust them?"

[Jinan B]

Kinsue quickly found himself back in his luxurious quarters. While he had been welcoming Nishio and his delegation, attendants had found a chance to set out a fine outfit for the dinner and draw a bath of hot water for him. He had grown used to the intrusion over the years, but today it struck him just how different it was from his life before. Being a shinobi had never been this comfortable.

He began to take off his outfit, leaving the clothes piled in a heap until he was wearing only his hakama. He paused, standing in front of the standing tri-fold mirror that dominated the corner of the chambers. In his reflection, he could clearly see the brand still emblazoned on his back. Perhaps he should have had it healed after he resigned.

He was about to remove the hakama as well when the sound of chatter from the hall broke into his thoughts. A moment later the door opened. The Karagata turned, and saw that it was Naohiro who had entered. His old friend seemed caught off guard to see him so unclothed, an unusual look on the Aisu. He suppressed a slight grin (not that his friend would have seen it), and reached to pick his kimono off the ground.

The aide – standing aghast behind Naohiro – began to speak, but Kinsue waved him away. He wrapped the Kimono around himself, letting it hang loosely off his shoulders and achieving some semblance of modesty.

”Please. Stay,” he would say in response to the Aisu’s hesitancy. He pushed away his instinctive discomfort at the situation, as well as the buried regret at the further proof of their distance. They had been in enough uncomfortable situations together that a discarded top hadn’t seemed to matter back then.

The Karagata moved and sat on the large bed within the room while Naohiro continued. It seemed that the shinobi was genuinely concerned, and that was enough for him to take it seriously. ”Only two of them… The samurai, I assume.” The samurai, and not Nishio. That seemed strange in itself.

”If they were planning something untoward, I would expect a civilian to show unease. Nishio seemed entirely comfortable while I spoke with him. Perhaps it is simply a protective measure.” It would hardly be the first time a partner of Kinsue’s had been concerned by his military past. ”Or perhaps he is unaware of the situation? To your eye, was the entire delegation acting strangely?”

He mulled over the situation for a moment. He knew better than to think he could trust any of the organizations that he worked with, but to plan some form of attack would be unprecedented. The retribution that anyone foolish enough to try would suffer served as a fine deterrent to such things. That left one question remaining in his mind.

”Can you tell how powerful they are, precisely? Could they defeat you?”

[Valkier]

Eventually, Naohiro made himself look up and acknowledge Kinsue directly. What did it matter if he was topless? This was a man he'd fought beside on more than one occasion, and even fought with, nearly to the point of death. A missing shirt was no big deal, only that it was a reminder of the bond they'd once held as friends and rivals. But, there were more important concerns for the moment. The mission.

"Perhaps. Only I can't shake the feeling that there is more to it." He shook his head, frowning. Could it just be his own expectation, having grown accustomed to missions with higher threat levels? He began to pace across the room, showing an uncharacteristic anxiety. At Kinsue's next question, he nodded.
"Strangely enough, considering. I suppose it would make sense—you are who you are, and your family even moreso. I suppose any businessman would be wise to take certain extra cautions. Or try to show off his strength and resources, to avoid getting swept away in the tide of his betters..." But his tone spoke of a man unconvinced by his own words. If it were so, then why only two men, and not a dozen? What mattered the individual strength, if it were just for show? Two skill men were not for demonstration. You bring two skilled men for a purpose. He paused at the window, looking out into the darkening skies over the estate. All seemed calm, and he took a deep breath to steady his thoughts.

"I didn't get an accurate read," he admitted finally, "I was more watching their actions than their signatures. But, certainly around the level of an experienced ninja. If I were to classify them like the bingo book... Perhaps "B-Rank". Perhaps with some luck, and co-ordination, but... No. No, they could not defeat me. Not me." He hid all but a moment of his hesitation, glancing at Kinsue, and left the implication hanging in the air between them.

As he watched Kinsue it struck him suddenly that he was still wearing his mission attire, but would also presumably have to make an appearance at dinner soon. So, while still milling over the concerns in his head, he strode to the small door to the adjoining servant's quarters—the ones he'd liberated earlier—and ducked inside. A minute later he re-emerged having exchanged the legendary cloak Desire for a prisine blue-and-white haori, just long and flowing enough to hide the flak jacket beneath. Then he commandeered a spare mirror in Kinsue's room and began delicately straightening and pinning up his hair. At one point, a small hand-sized rift opened in the air at his side, like a shadowed mirage turning in upon itself, and he reached a hand into it to withdraw some matching blue hair ornaments. The fabric of space reasserted itself and snapped closed while he slipped them into his bun.

"I suppose there is nothing to do yet but watch and wait. Keep your guard up tonight." He couldn't tell his friend not to drink at his own business meeting, of course, but hoped that Kinsue had sense enough to avoid it anyway. "I'll be watching them closely. Perhaps I can learn something. Or deter something." He trimmed a rogue hair with a kunai, then flicked his wrist and the weapon vanished into the folds of his outfit without a sound.

"Shall we, my lord?" He stood and bowed, mimicking the way he'd seen Kinsue's aide do so earlier, and indicated to the doors.

[Jinan B]

It was a reasonable fear, Kinsue supposed, that there was more to this than met the eye. His old friend had certainly not reached his position by overestimating risk and acting cowardly. The explanation that the Karagata had offered seemed weak to his own ears, as well. Nishio's attitude earlier was at odds with someone who would act so fearfully.

Yet, the sheer amount of concern that he was showing seemed odd in itself. Naohiro wasn’t one to fret, at least as far as he remembered. Why would it be any different now, he had to wonder. Had the pressures of the war overcome him while Kinsue hadn’t been there to see it?

The shinobi calmed himself, and as he continued things became clear to Kinsue. They could not defeat Naohiro, but two B-Rank shinobi would be more than a match for him. More than a match even for him and whoever else might have been assigned the mission. Had the Aisu not decided to come himself, his fate may already have been sealed. He should’ve said something then, but once again the words failed to come to him.

Instead the Aisu would take his leave, allowing Kinsue his privacy once more. He undressed once more, fully this time, and was about to wash when the door opened once more. Instinctively, he stepped behind the standing mirror as his old friend entered — seemingly now too preoccupied by the tasks at hand to bother with bashfulness. So much for the bath, Kinsue thought.

He kept the mirror between himself and his rival, and swiftly donned his fresh outfit. For the dinner, he had decided on warmer tones than his usual outfit. A navy blue kimono and hakama, with fine red trim. His white haori would accompany it, complete with his family symbol on the back. With only his hair left to attend to, he glanced over at his companion in time to see his effortless use of Jikukan. The sight of it finally brought a smile to his face; one of the most advanced and elusive techniques in the world, all for a hair pin. In some ways, Naohiro was still the boy he had met in the Academy. He couldn’t deny how pleasant it was to see. For a moment, he felt like the boy he once was as well.

Then, they were both ready. Kinsue nodded at his friend’s words. ”Agreed. The samurai will likely recognise you, I think. If they have something planned, they may give it away once they see it's out of reach.” As he spoke, the mask slipped on and he became the Karagata envoy again; distant and inscrutable.

Down on the ground floor of the estate, the dining hall had been fully decked out in resplendent decoration. The finest furnishings and tableware that Kinsue suspected Tokudaiji could afford had been laid out; and the man himself was standing inside – waiting for his guests. With him was a younger woman, perhaps 18, standing with clearly trained grace. The man’s daughter, Kinsue assumed. They led the two of them to their seats before taking their own. Nishio and his own bodyguards would only be a moment behind.

[Valkier]

Kinsue didn't appear inclined to object to Naohiro's presence, and so soon enough the pair descended through the finely furnished estate and into the dining hall. There, they bowed and greeted their host, who seemed to finally have recovered from mixing the pair of them up. A lovely young woman stood at Tokudaiji's side, but the way she batted her eyelids at both Naohiro and Kinsue in turn suggested that she knew exceedingly little about either of them. He hoped she wouldn't take it personally that neither were likely to return her attentions in earnest.

Tokudaiji and his daughter led the pair and seated them at a large oval table that filled the centre of the dining hall, ringed with chairs and already heavily laden with exquisite food. The various smells made his stomach rumble immediately. Fresh-baked rolls, soups and spreads of all colours. A wide selection of roasted meats and steaming platters of vegetables, cooked every which way, were on offer too, and growing by the minute as chefs continued to bring more to the table. A second table to one side was already being filled with all manner of desserts and sweets. And everywhere enough wine to sink Kirigakure, by his careful measure. Businessmen, it seemed, were rather partial to a drink. For an amused moment Naohiro considered that perhaps he should've assigned Karagata Shiv to the mission instead.

Soon enough they were seated and served their choice of drink, and were soon joined by the Ocha Province delegation. Tokudaiji and his daughter sat at one side of the table, leaving Kinsue and Nishio to sit next to one another on the far side. Naohiro and Kinsue's aide, as well as the rest of Nishio's entourage, filled the remaining seats. It so happened that Naohiro himself was hidden from the dining hall door by a large centrepiece as Nishio and his samurai entered, and when each took their chairs he was graced with their expressions up close. Upon seeing him, the three men transitioned in spectacular fashion from indifference, to recognition, to shock and alarm, then back to a very strained indifference again. And all at once, Naohiro felt vindicated. They knew of him, and his presence here seemed to be a problem. Perhaps he had been right all along—or, perhaps, these men thought his presence a testament to Kinsue's own level of power, and were aghast at being outdone in their little game of who had the biggest friends. To have a renowned jounin in tow as a mere bodyguard would speak much to the Karagata's influence. Catching Nishio's eye, Naohiro simply smiled and raised a glass in acknowledgement, though he did not drink. Nor did he look away for some time.

Soon enough the meal began, though voices across the table seemed somewhat tense to Naohiro's ear, the conversation innane and forced. No wonder the wine was so beloved, if this was how things usually began. His own glass and plate remained untouched, however. He'd eaten a few rations earlier to keep himself going, and had no intention to partake in the evening feast... At least until a very pointed look from Kinsue urged him to at least pretend. He eventually did so with reluctance, drinking nothing and choosing only morsels of the foods that he saw everyone else, Nishio and Tokudaiji both, also pick from. It was all mouth-wateringly good, but he made himself stop after a few feigned tastings all the same. Appearances be damned; he knew he could easily save Kinsue from any poison they might possibly encounter, but things became a lot more difficult if something were to knock both of them down at once, and a few tasty morsels were not worth the risk.

Slowly, as bellies began to fill and wine-darkened lips began to loosen, the conversation began to flow a little more naturally, and also a little more interesting to Naohiro's ear.
"A terrible affair, all this war." He heard Nishio saying, though his expression suggested the opposite. "It will be years before Ocha Province recovers! It affects us all, you know—" he speared a fat sausage and used it to point around the table. His eyes looked away from Naohiro's a little too quickly. "—and we all must do what we can to help! This deal will do much to strengthen the land." He patted his stomach in satisfaction and Naohiro began to suspect that 'the land' was likely the last of Nishio's interests.

"I promise you this, Karagata! Great things will come tomorrow. Great things." And he chuckled, joined by his men, as if making some private joke.

[Jinan B]

It was a moment of truth, however small, when Nishio and his bodyguards made their way into the dining hall. Kinsue had accepted his old friend’s concerns, and observed keenly the reactions of the foreigners when they first noticed the renowned Jounin. The samurai’s reactions were distinctly concerning. The blatant recognition, and poor attempts to hide it after seemed to be clear giveaways that something had gone awry. Kinsue might have smiled, were it not for the mask. Control had fallen into Naohiro’s hands, and the Samurai seemed to know it.

Nishio, though, showed no sign of alarm. He held Naohiro’s intense gaze, and simply smiled back at the shinobi. ”I did not think your bodyguard would outshine even you, Lord Karagata.” He winked playfully at the Aisu, before finally breaking eye-contact and reaching for a full glass of wine. Ever the flatterer, it seemed. Perhaps still unaware of quite what the situation was too.

”This is Naohiro, he’s an old friend of mine,” Kinsue said by way of introduction. ”And quite radiant, I agree.” The mask provided the noble with his own feigned ease; drawing a broad smile and jovial manner over his features. Being able to add a slight jab at his former rival helped it feel even the slightest bit genuine.

At least, it was so for him. Naohiro, ever the master of the pomp and circumstance of his clan, seemed uniquely out of place. The man even refused to eat until he took the message from Kinsue that it was most necessary. His cautious eye was a marvel, but it took far less than that from Kinsue to see the distrust and caution clearly written all over him. Most likely the samurai could see it too, and the noble hoped that they would attribute it only to the habit of an experienced soldier.

The dinner itself passed somewhat as a blur. The samurai seemed to calm themselves over time, and as the plates and pitchers came and went the atmosphere took on an air of near genuine merriment. Nishio himself seemed to delight in telling the stories of Ocha Province’s devastation; and the reconstruction that would result from the gold that would be brought in by their deal. It was a comforting fable, at least, but the genuine altruists were never competitive enough to find success with the Karagata.

”I look forward to seeing the province prosper," Kinsue said, raising his wine (of which he had allowed himself only one glass) to his partner’s toast. ”I’m glad that the deal has been allowed to move forward so quickly. So many others would try and force the terms to be in their favor.” That was the last thing that raised Kinsue’s concern. On its own, the speed with which this meeting had come about seemed inconsequential. Alongside everything else, he was sure Naohiro would be very interested to hear how Nishio justified that act.

The man’s grin didn’t seem to falter. ”What matters most is ensuring that the trade is moving, no? The province cannot afford to wait for the perfect deal.” He took a bite of his food, succulent fresh fish. ”There will be time for more extensive negotiations when we renew our contracts.” It was a fair answer, Kinsue thought. One that a genuine merchant might even have come up with.

Yet he couldn’t help but notice the glance shared between the samurai. The unease that he had felt earlier made itself known once more; silently burning a hole in his gut.

[Valkier]

Naohiro did not look away from Nishio quite so quickly. Even before the man spoke it had been clear that he'd recognised Naohiro—and him specifically, not just one of the Aisu family in general—and Naohiro did not miss the flicker of concern and doubt that crept across Nishio's face, almost imperceptibly, at the revelation. A moment later and it was gone, replaced by flattering smiles and twinkling eyes. Naohiro's own smile was cold, and did not reach his eyes. Some silent signal passed among the Ocha Province delegation and their group seemed to settle and relax, though an agitated undercurrent was still palpable throughout the room.

And yet when Kinsue replied, with his earnest words and easy manner, a lot of that tension seemed to bleed away. Naohiro pulled his attention back to the room as a whole, and to his old friend in particular. He found himself a little impressed by the man's smooth handling of the two parties; Kinsue had always been smart and calculating, but it appeared to have grown into a man who exuded confidence and control over a gathered group. He was good at getting along with people, even these ones, and very likely good at getting what he wanted from them too, considering his current line of work. He was a natural at it. And Naohiro, strangely, felt a small mote of pride watching his old friend at work, defusing the initial hostility and concern in the room until everyone seemed to genuinely be having a good time. Even more strangely, seeing it planted a small seed of doubt in the back of Naohiro's mind: would it be wrong to try and draw Kinsue back to the life of a shinobi, having seen him now in his element? Where he thought he belonged? He mused quietly as the meal continued, but did not like the line of thought. His friend appeared happy, separated as he was from the concerns of a ninja, but did his happiness outweigh the needs of Kirigakure?

Eventually, when the plates and glasses were stacked high and empty, and when an air of tiredness overcame the gathering, the meal drew to a close. Tokudaiji's daughter was the first to rise and depart—again with some fluttered lashes and a coy but ignored smile in their direction—and the group as a whole soon followed suit. Handshakes and smiles were exchanged, and even Naohiro swapped a few reserved nods as he, Kinsue, and Kinsue's aides took their leave. They chatted idly as they made their way back to their rooms, and though Naohiro remained alert, nothing aroused further suspicion. He insisted on checking Kinsue's chamber one more time before allowing his employer to retire, but eventually relented and went back to his own room.

Inside the small adjoining servant's chamber, Naohiro sat cross-legged on the bed and attuned his senses again to the rest of the building around him, trying to track the locations of the various occupants. What he heard and felt lessened as the night deepened, and soon enough even the servants and staff of the estate retreated to their own beds, leaving only a few guards outside leaning heavily at their posts. Except for one other. Naohiro rose, cracked open the door to Kinsue's chamber, and slipped inside all in total silence. He moved through the darkened room like a shadow, stopping in the open doorway that led out to a private balcony. His friend leaned on the railing just ahead, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Just what was he thinking, standing outside and so exposed in the middle of the night? Concerned, but respectful, Naohiro stayed quiet and waited, watching.

[Jinan B]

The dinner ended quickly enough, with a decidedly drunk Tokudaiji and relatively sober Nishio making their separate ways. Though he did not show it, Kinsue was relieved that he could have some peace once again. These functions were often dull, but tonight had been especially suffocating. Today, everything seemed tense to the young man. Every small action sapped away at him.

His room provided some small comfort, hidden away from the rest of the estate. Despite the seclusion, however, Kinsue found as the night dragged on that he was unable to rest. His mind was brought back to Naohiro’s presence next door. Most particularly, he wondered what he could tell his old friend. The Aisu deserved to know why he had abandoned his old life, but how could he explain it? Would his oldest friend be able to accept the truth of it?

He gave up his attempts to sleep and instead rose from his bed. Clad only in his hakama, the gentle wind brushed against his old scars as he opened the door to the room’s balcony. It was certainly a fine view at least; the outer gardens of the estate were gently lit by the full moon. Something about it allowed Kinsue to feel slightly calmer. The pressure that he felt had eased at least for a moment.

Then, he felt the wind brushing against him change. A draft had been created by the opening of the bedroom door. Kinsue looked back, ever so slightly, and saw Naohiro watching him. Silently waiting.

The young noble didn’t speak for a moment. What was there to say? Simply explaining his restlessness would not be enough, and his mind was still focused on the questions that Naohiro had received no answer to when they had traveled to the estate.

He had tried, time and again, to explain himself to his old friend. To tell him why he had made the choices that had split them apart; to thank him for refusing to leave their past behind them. He hadn’t been able to before. Now, under the open sky, he felt the pressure pushing down on him finally ease. The words came to him.

”Do you remember Soul Country?” He asked, voice quiet but carried on the still air. ”I was assigned under the Mizukage. We were supposed to capture the temple bordering the wastes.” He looked out at the distant fields beyond the estate's boundries, refusing to risk turning and seeing his old friend’s face.

”They were so clear on that, weren’t they? That we were there to capture and not destroy. That excessive force ran counter to the whole point of the operation… The first thing Kasai did was bring an entire tsunami down on the temple. He didn’t care about the damage it would do. We were all fighting under his order, and he didn’t care.” He felt his hands press down upon the balcony’s railing, steadying him.

”It didn’t matter that we were pulled out early, we could never have taken the Country. They would all have turned against us for what we were doing to their holy sites. But the village didn’t care about that, did they? They wanted blood; Kasai was a hero for bringing it to them. It didn’t matter that it had all been so pointless.” The words had a mind of their own now; he couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to.

”You were almost killed. All to sate his ego.”

His knuckles were white against the rail now. His rage threatened to overtake him. He hadn’t realized before, but Naohiro’s fate had been the greatest offense of the operation. They had both faced death time and time again in their lives, but always for a purpose. If they had died, they both would’ve done so gladly in the knowledge that they did it in service to the village. Soul Country had been so different.

He was too furious to speak now. He reached for the mask, trying to put his emotions back in their place, but found that it was out of his reach. Instead, he slowed his breathing and looked out over the garden until he felt he could speak safely again.

All that was left was the most shameful part of his confession. ”A ninja lives not for themselves or for anyone else, but for the village. I couldn’t do it anymore; not with Kasai at its helm. Katsurou understood. He offered me a way out. One that wouldn’t look like cowardice… or treason.”

Then, Kinsue turned and looked at his old friend. He searched the man’s expression for signs of what he thought, and he was afraid. Would Naohiro turn his back on him, now that he finally knew the truth?

[Valkier]

Naohiro remembered Soul Country vividly. It'd been one of his formative wake-up calls to the world they lived in, and to this day he still wore the badge of honour the Raikage had given him. A half-healed webbed scar from hip to rib. Looking back now, he'd still been mostly a child at the time, but that hadn't stopped the Lightning Emperor. Hadn't even made him hesitate. Kasai had not been the only one eager for blood and victory, and ruthless in his efforts. Naohiro held a hand to the old scar, but kept quiet and allowed his friend to continue.

A sense of dread crept upon him while Kinsue spoke, and when he repeated one of the village creeds, understanding began to hit home. Like a cold knife through the ribs. A way out. He stood rigid now, stunned, and did not even think to conceal the emotion, not for Kinsue. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words came; what could he say? Duty was everything to a ninja. It was what they lived for, were shaped for. Was it betrayal? Surely not, not from him. Kinsue turned to look at him, and the earlier mask had fallen away completely. Naohiro found himself struck by the depth of the emotions in his friend's face. Anger, shame, passion. Hurt. He tore his eyes away, looking down, unable to meet Kinsue's gaze just yet.

Instead he stepped forwards and stopped by the railing at Kinsue's side, and leaned down on it to look out into the night, though his eyes attention was focused only inwards. A way out. He took a deep breath and held it, his mind racing. A small part of him that he had not wanted to acknowledge understood Kinsue's explanation. He should've worked it out long ago; his friend was not a fool. Even as children, during their first meetings in Academy One all those years ago, the Karagata boy had looked outwards and upwards to the larger picture, the greater implications of any given situation. They had been alike in that regard, and Kinsue's wisdom had been what had first impressed Naohiro. Now, it bit back. And all down to a man like Kasai. Naohiro finally exhaled and grimaced. He'd been silent for too long.

"A ninja must recognize and be aware of all forms of strength; the physical, the mental, and the spiritual." He spoke quietly, almost to himself, repeating more of the creed started by Kinsue and that they'd all been raised to embody. "A ninja must not ignore fear, but embrace it, as fear can be an ally. A ninja recognizes no limitations." His tone grew in intensity if not in volume, and he closed his eyes while he repeated the doctrine like a personal mantra.

"Kasai was our commander. That's all there was to it, for all that he was not a commander. He embodied the strength we're all taught to strive for, and was not coy in its application. But... But you're right. I know it as well as you. Everything we do is for the village—should always be about the village." Though there had been some good reasons for the disastrous operation at Soul Country, the method and action on the ground had certainly left much to be desired. Slowly, he shook his head. "But men like us can't just stand aside. There's no abstaining from Kirigakure. And Kirigakure needs people like you, Kinsue, to keep it on the right path. I need you." He dared a look to the side, meeting his friend's eyes.

"The idea of Kirigakure did not get crushed under the waves at Soul Country. Not for me. Kasai is gone, and we... We can do better. And yet we're floundering, now more than ever. The invasion should've brought us together again, united in obvious purpose, but instead the chaos is worse now than before. Say one thing for Kasai, for all his flaws: he exuded control over a place built to challenge it. There's a void left by his absence now, and something bad is brewing in Kirigakure, mark my words. I can feel it." He looked away again, concern evidence on his voice. Was Kinsue right?

[Jinan B]

Naohiro was as shocked as Kinsue could ever have expected. Of course he was. If the Aisu had said the same thing to him 5 years ago there wouldn’t have been room in him to accept it. He braced himself for his old friend’s harsh words. He knew what they would be. After all, he had said them all to himself over the years.

But, he didn’t speak at first. No exclamation of horror. No immediate denouncement. He only refused to meet Kinsue’s eye and moved closer to the railing; using it for the same support that it was giving to the young noble. After a moment that seemed closer to an eternity, he began to speak. It seemed he was still trying to process the surprise that came with his confession.

It took a moment longer before he responded in earnest. First diminishing the impact of Kasai on the village. Then, Naohiro… Agreed with him? At least, in part even if he still insisted that Kinsue needed to serve again. That he needed the Karagata, in fact.

Kinsue sucked in a breath at that. Of all the things his friend could have said, such an admission was the last thing he could’ve expected. Naohiro finally met his gaze, but Kinsue only held it for a moment and shifted his eyes back to the shadowed landscape. His own questions had shifted into perfect clarity. This was why Naohiro had come all this way; had degraded himself with children’s work. Not to find out why the Karagata had left, but to bring him back. Now Kinsue knew that he would leave disappointed.

”Naohiro… I love our village, and I want to serve. Even this, paltry as it is, gives back towards her power.” He paused, feeling the weight of what had to come next. If things were as dire as the Aisu said, then having to decline would be a hefty blow. ”...But you’re wrong. You need shinobi who share your vision for Kiri; who want to make sure that it is the village we all want it to be and who have the conviction to strive for it. What you need most of all is the people who have the strength to back up that will, and that isn’t me. Not anymore.”

Maybe it had never been him. When he was a boy Kinsue had believed that he could bring the village in line with his beliefs, that he would make his way to the top of the ladder and take out the ones who held Kirigakure back. He had years to look back over his record as a shinobi; a record of failure and defeat buoyed by the war hero who now wanted his help.

He didn’t dare to look back at Naohiro now. Whatever hurt his words might have been causing, he wasn’t ready to see it.

[Valkier]

Anticipation and excitement built within Naohiro as Kinsue considered his words, rising with the first words of his reply. When the denial came, it broke the feelings into a chilling wave of cold washing through his body. I should've known, he thought, shaking his head slowly. This was never going to be easy. He is not a man of shallow conviction. And yet, it was the nature of the denial that hit hardest, moreso than the refusal itself. Standing at Kinsue's side still, feeling a nightttime breeze rush over and past them, Naohiro only had to whisper.

"You're wrong." Not enough. He turned to face Kinsue directly, and spoke more clearly.
"You're wrong." And I will show you by just how much. He let the words hang a moment before elaborating.

"I came out here tonight intent on talking to you about the Ocha Province delegation and the threat they pose. To warn you away from them. But I suspect you already know the danger; you saw their reactions at dinner, could read into their words even easier than I. They looked at us like slavering dogs, and neither of us can be fooled by their 'show of strength' any longer. And yet—and yet here you stand. In full defiance of these men who have lured you here on a ruse and are very likely, even as we speak, plotting your downfall, you do not run. You do not hide. Why?" He let the question hang for just a moment, watching Kinsue carefully, before answering himself.

"Because you're not a fool, and nor are you weak. Take that from a man—no, a comrade—that has fought by your side, seen your talent, and who has been very nearly defeated by you many times. I suspect that even if I told you, right now, to run away and run for your life, you would not. There are few other shinobi—because that is what you are, for all these years pretending otherwise—that I would want at my back."

For all his talk, he did not truly think that these words would be enough to sway his old friend. Kinsue needed to see the truth of it for himself. But if any shred of the ninja within him remained, driving him to stay and face the danger that Naohiro was more and more sure was coming at them, the opportunity for such a test would be close at hand. Naohiro turned to leave, but paused by the door. Partly to hear any response, but more importantly, to ensure his friend was not left alone and vulnerable out on the balcony alone.

[Jinan B]

It was no surprise that Naohiro took his words poorly. More than just disappointment, his response was filled with outrage at the truth of Kinsue’s strength. He kept his gaze forward, eyes trained on a particular row of trees that he could just about see in the darkness, and gave little response in his body language to his old friend’s tirade. As much as he thought the nature of it to be different, Kinsue had still expected harsh words to be levelled at him tonight. He was braced for it and so could allow the speech to wash right over him.

As Naohiro finished his lecture, moving towards the door and signalling that the conversation was over, Kinsue mulled over his question. He couldn’t say that he felt very defiant throughout the day -- bowing as he had to his friend’s old wounds. Instead, it was something else that kept him here. The man reached for the fear within him, measured it and saw that it was directed fully at the Aisu. He feared losing his connection with the man, a fear that now was beginning to seem realised. Nothing was left for Nishio and his band of would-be assassins.

Without movement, he would respond to the shinobi still lingering in the doorway. ”Maybe they’ll kill me tomorrow; maybe they won’t…” What did it matter? He did not speak the end of it out loud. Instead, he would turn back towards the interior of the estate with an attempt at ease. ”You said before that they are no match for you. To put it simply, I don’t see what there is to fear.” It was a feeble lie, perhaps. Made to put a veil on just how far he had fallen and surely just as easily pierced. Yet, for now, it brokered little argument.

With the time for talk over, Kinsue found himself tired where before he had been restless. He walked back into the elaborate chambers and – after allowing Naohiro to excuse himself – collapsed into his bed. Sleep, strangely enough, came easily now. A good thing too; tomorrow promised to be even greater a trial as what had passed that day.

[Valkier]

Kinsue's words, unconvincing, washed over Naohiro while he stood waiting at the door. There was more meaning to them than had been said aloud, he was sure, and it worried him. He turned to ask, but Kinsue was already walking back inside. His turned back was not inviting further conversation. Shaking his head slowly, Naohiro retreated back to his own room, giving Kinsue his privacy for the time being. Those final words still stuck in his head. He would certainly not be sleeping.

He lay down anyway, resting his body if nothing else, since his mind was still fully occupied with the brief exchange. How and why would Kinsue think this way? Had he truly been so lost, all these years? Was there more, left unsaid? No, he realised, that had the feel of an earnest confession. He found that he did not hate what Kinsue had done—or even why—only that the man who'd been his closest friend and strongest ally for the longest time had made the decision alone. What might have been, if they'd had this same conversation a decade ago? All those wasted years...

The parting words bothered him as much as the rest. They'd rung with... conviction? No, resignation. Did Kinsue want to die? Is that why he was here? No, not Kinsue. He wouldn't think that way; if he wanted to die, it would have happened long ago. But he could well just be... indifferent to it. In many ways that was worse. His words echoed back to Naohiro now as he lay awake in the darkness, listening to the distant bustle of activity throughout the estate.

What should he do? What could he do? They could leave, for one. A click of his fingers and he and Kinsue could be back in Kirigakure. But he knew such a move would spell the end of his last chance to get through to his friend. Or to help him. They'd go their separate ways, and likely for the last time. The threat of failure tugged at Naohiro's heart, and he winced. If not to leave, then he had to stay and protect him. And hope for some other opportunity. Part of him wanted Kinsue to see the danger and action of whatever lay ahead, to have him experience the risk and come again to rely upon his own instincts, to remember his own skill. Like old times. Could it be done? But now he worried that his old friend simply wouldn't bother. An attempt on his life might simply be met with an empty shrug. An easier way out. He grit his teeth and scowled into the night. But— Wait... Bustle of activity?

Suddenly Naohiro sat bolt upright, his small lumpy servant's bunk creaking beneath his shifting weight. Fully alert, he cocked his head and froze, listening, picking apart the distant sounds of movement from across the building. Yes, there it was again. And there, and again. What was going on? He hadn't drifted off; it was still the early hours of the night. No noise came from Kinsue's room. But there were a great many people now moving through the rest of the building, and outside, and many of them making poor attempts to do so quietly. Taking a deep breath, Naohiro began to glow faintly as he opened the senses of his mind's eye.

Awareness blossomed into his mind like a stage curtain falling at the start of a show. Chakra sources covered the estate, tenfold more than earlier. Many were small—the tiny chakra-beads of simple guards rather than the levels of trained shinobi—but a few stood out. The same signatures he recognised from the arrival of Nishio's entourage earlier that day, spread out amid the rest. They were at the heart of it. He flung himsself up and was strapping on his flak jacket and equipment even as he shouldered through the door to Kinsue's room. He crossed the large chamber in a heartbeat and swept back the drapes of the bed. Cupping a muffling hand over Kinsue's mouth, he leaned close.

"Wake up! Something is afoot. Prepare yourself."

His earlier concerns over Kinsue's desire to resist an attack faded as the reality of the present danger set in, and Naohiro dropped his kunai pouch on the bed beside Kinsue. He'd have to trust him, once again. He knew this man, however much Kinsue tried to convince him otherwise. He would act right. He would.

"Hide that beneath your robes. If you need to use it, do not hesitate." And then he started for the door, slipping noiselessly across the carpeted floors. "I'm going to slip out and check around. Won't be long. If anything happens..." He glanced back at Kinsue and flashed him a slight grin, "Scream like your life depends upon it."

[Jinan B]

Sleep came easily, but Kinsue’s rest was fitful. He dreamed of better times. Years ago, when he woke up most days with a hunger for what lay ahead of him. Especially whenever he and his oldest friend had the chance to work together. It was little wonder that his mind couldn’t tear away from it, now that Naohiro had given him the opportunity to return. In another world; he would surely have woken alongside a late dawn and drearily gone about the rest of the deal. Nothing out of the ordinary would have happened, he could have rejected Naohiro’s pleas, and life would go on as it had for so many years.

Instead, he was woken forcefully. The drapes of the bed being swept back were enough to bring him to alertness; before he could react, he felt a cold hand against his face. Understanding came to him quickly as he saw Naohiro, and the Jounin’s words settled it. Once the Aisu withdrew, Kinsue would get up swiftly, throwing clothes on as he prepared to follow his old friend.

His instructions were met with a moment of hesitancy; before Kinsue picked up the pouch and tied it around his waist. He nodded as he pulled his robes over the weapons, feeling them settle in a distantly familiar way. Though even now, with something clearly afoot, he let himself believe he would need them. Naohiro would handle whatever plot the delegation had hatched, after all.

In the near silence of the early morning, Kinsue's footsteps as he neared the door seemed almost thundering. The contrast to Naohiro’s wraithlike movements was startling, when had he learned to be so silent? It was clear that he couldn’t follow his old friend without compromising him, so he simply nodded at the Aisu’s jab. ”Just. Don’t do anything stupid,” he would say; a slight touch of concern in his voice. Things had not gone so well for them in the past snooping about nobles’ estates.

As Naohiro made his way through the still halls of the estate he would at first see none of the activity that he had heard. At the moment, the interlopers were gathered solely on the ground floor and outside. As he made his way to the disturbances, he would come to the top of the manor’s staircase. From there he could see a small group at work in the central entryway. A few who had not been part of the initial delegation were covering the doors and windows -- as quietly as could be managed -- with scrolls covered in complex fuuinjutsu. One of the samurai acting as Nishio’s bodyguards was inscribing new scripts directly to the manor. With Naohiro's expertise in the art, he would be able to identify the scrolls as barrier jutsu, and the samurai's work as some kind of trap. Nishio himself was present, though not acting. He was simply overseeing the tense and near-silent process.

Bundled to the side and out of the way were three corpses; the bodies of Tokudaiji’s guards unfortunate enough to get in the way.

[Valkier]

Naohiro inhaled sharply at the scene unfolding ahead. Bodies and barriers. Ill omens, both. He ducked back around one of the large pillars that flanked the grand staircase and pressed himself up against it, peeking around just enough to see.

"You bastard..." He muttered, watching Nishio direct the group with a sure hand. Nishio might only be a simple businessman, but he was smart. Smart enough to surround himself with dangerous people, and hatch dangerous plots. Few things were as vicious as a man with ambitions higher than the extent of his own talents. Although, Naohiro reconsidered, he does seem familiar with fuuinjutsu. Interesting. He must have worked with Shinobi before... Nishio turned then, shooting a look back and up towards the stairs, and Naohiro threw himself backwards and held his breath. A long moment passed before he risked another peek, then relaxed. It seemed he'd avoided notice, for now. Not for the first time he blessed the years he'd spent training in the secrets of the Head Hunter Division. In a way he had Kinsue to thank for those, too; it'd been the prospect of their chuunin exam that had led Naohiro to first petition Kaikyo Kohon to begin teaching him the arts of the Hunter, back in the long days of their youth.

He listened and watched for a moment longer, considering. He could probably fight his way through, if it came to it, but doing so while protecting Kinsue as well introduced room for error. Should he ambush them now, while they were unprepared? Or find another route? The sounds of other movements, all throughout the estate, decided for him. Engaging Nishio's goons here would leave Kinsue alone, hiding in his room and waiting.

Instead of beelining directly back to Kinsue's room, Naohiro detoured along a different corridor first, checking the doorways along its length and the window at the far end. All bore similar etchings, neat black lines deftly carved into lintels and sills. He swore under his breath and turned back, hurrying on silent feet back the way he'd come. No easy escape up here, either.

He turned back onto the corridor containing Kinsue's room and froze mid-step. Four men, lightly armoured and moving almost as quietly as he, stared back at him from beyond Kinsue's door. They shared a look, then a glance at the door, then back.

”My dear fellow, whatever are you about at this hour, hm?" The tone was almost jovial, but the words sent a shiver down Naohiro's spine all the same. Nishio. He cursed himself for his carelessness; how had they known? He turned to see the man standing at the top of the stairs, now, and flanked by his two strongest retainers. Armour-clad, swords drawn.

”A man could seem suspicious, sneaking around in the middle of the night! We can't have that. One might find something... untoward. A man could get hurt!". He flicked one finger, a signal, and the two soldiers charged at Naohiro. Further down the corridor, the group of lesser goons split: two rushed ahead to support their comrades charging towards Naohiro; the other two wasted no time in pivoting towards Kinsue's door.

Naohiro scowled and darted backwards, trying to open up some space between himself and his attackers, mind racing. He had to get past, get to Kinsue. Only one way. His hands flew together in a few rapid seals, then he shifted his weight and launched himself forwards instead, webs of chakra forming into highly pressured orbs ahead of three of the fingers on his left hand. Behind the charging attackers, the two men at Kinsue's door splintered the wood beneath heavy kicks and rushed inside...

Jutsu Used...Show

Fuuton • Airsling
D-Rank Fuuton Ninjutsu
After performing the required hand seals, the user creates three 2cm orbs of swirling fuuton, forming on the fingertips of a chosen hand. At any point during the next three posts the user can fire the orbs, simultaneously or individually, at a target up to 10m away at [control] speed and strength. Upon impact, in addition to striking with [strength] and cutting, each orb will produce a vortex acting to push the target back with a strength of 1/2 [control].

[Jinan B]

It was nearly silent within the quarters after Naohiro departed, the faint moonlight from the balcony providing the slightest visibility in the pitch-black space. Kinsue remained still, keeping his body against the door as he listened for whatever his companion had heard. The Jounin left no trace of his movement that the Karagata could detect, nor did any members of the Ocha Province contingent that may have been about.

Then almost from nowhere Nishio’s voice rang out; startlingly close to the door. Kinsue took a step back, damning his weak senses for how little idea they gave him of what was transpiring. A hand went for the pouch of kunai, fumbling about and grabbing one of them. The weapon felt clumsy in his gentle hand. It was a ninja tool, after all.

Nishio’s voice continued to ring out, confirming the truth of just what he was here to do, before sudden loud strikes resounded from the door. The weak wood splintered immediately, revealing two young men armed and armoured. There was almost peace for the briefest of moments; the pair clearly not expecting him to be waiting for them with a weapon in hand, Kinsue reacting almost as though he were still asleep. The tiniest, near imperceptible, shrug was his only response to the aggression before they charged in earnest.

The men were slow. Painfully, remarkably slow. As they “rushed” him, Kinsue’s mind mulled over just how many children he had met would’ve slaughtered them if they were in his place. Most genin, even some talented academy students might’ve had it in them. All the talent Nishio had access to must have been engaging Naohiro. The one that led the charge brought his blade down from up high, and Kinsue stepped to its side effortlessly. His palm shot out, surprising him almost as much as his foes, and crashed against the man’s temple with a force he seemed entirely unprepared to handle. His body hit the floor, unconscious.

The second, stopped by the sight of his partner taken down, tried to adopt a more cautious stance. Feet planted, thrusting out with his blade in the hope of keeping out of Kinsue’s reach. He slapped at the flat of the blade, turning it aside before closing the distance and grabbing the foe’s wrist. All it took was to twist, and he was screaming helplessly next to his companion; wrist broken beyond use. The Karagata was moving poorly, every mistake clear to his mind as he acted, yet these two were nothing compared to a former ninja of Kirigakure. He looked at the kunai, unused in his other hand. They hadn’t even taken that much.

Leaving the pair of them behind, Kinsue moved to the door of the quarters. Even if Naohiro wanted him to stay put, he had to know whether he was in greater danger.

Jutsu UsedShow

[Blackjack]
C-Rank Taijutsu Manouevre
Prerequisite: [Close Quarters Combat]
The user aims a powerful blow towards the temple of an opponent, using a hard striking point such as the heel of the hand, an elbow, knee, or rigid fist. A clean hit against an opponent with five or more strength less than the user's will be knocked unconscious for two posts from the sudden cranial impact. Targets able to resist the knock-out will instead be dazed for one post, disorientated from the blow, unless their strength is greater than the user's.

[Disarm]
C-Rank Taijutsu Manoeuvre
Prerequisite: [Close Quarters Combat]
A staple technique to fight against armed opponents, the user has learnt to strike at hands, wrists, elbows and shoulders in a manner that has a high chance to cause an opponent to release a held object or weapon. This is most effective when counterattacking after evading an incoming strike, or after gaining a firm hold of an opponent. Foes with a strength stat greater than the user's will be unaffected by this technique.

---

Nishio’s primary bodyguards stood ready to face off with Naohiro. The first – a tall, broad man wielding a kodachi – charged headlong towards him. As he neared his foe, he leapt into the air and aimed towards the Aisu’s shoulders in an attempt to unbalance him.

The second – the Fuuinjutsu user – weaved his own set of hand seals before taking out a long spool of wire. The weapon, infused with chakra, would lash out towards Naohiro at tremendous speed. If Naohiro’s balance was thrown by his companion it would be all the easier to restrain him. If not, the distraction might be enough to capture him either way.

All the while, Nishio watched the assault with a grin on his face. The last two of his servants flanked him; ready to respond to any aggressive move towards their master.

Jutsu UsedShow

Bodyguard One
*[Toryu • Spite Breaker]
C-Rank Taijutsu Maneuver
An unorthodox use of swordsmanship, the practitioner rushes the opponent and leaps at them, attempting to land on their shoulders. Should the practitioner succeed, they will forcefully shift their weight onto the opponent's shoulders, potentially unbalancing them. Opponents with an Acrobatic technique of an equal or higher rank than this technique can resist having their guard be disrupted. Otherwise, the opponent will be suddenly thrown off balance, leaving their head, neck, or torso exposed for the practitioner to attack with their sword.

Bodyguard Two
*[Ninjutsu • Binding]
C-Ranked Ninjutsu
After performing the correct hand seals the user will focus chakra into a rope, wire, or a similar object in their possession. The object will then lash out at a target at [Control] Speed for up to 25 meters attempting to then coil around them and bind them. After coiling around the target, the chakra will cause the object to harden to [Control] Strength. After 4 posts the chakra will run out and the bind will break.

[Valkier]

Twisting lines of fuuton wrapped and wove around Naohiro's fingers as he stepped forwards to meet the two bodyguards, eyes flicking between both. The swordsman moved first, closing in and leaping with his blade raised to strike. At the apex of the jump, as the sword flashed down towards him, Naohiro levelled his left hand and unleashed two of the balls of fuuton. They struck centre-mass and sent the man spinning away, smashing directly into and through the wall of the hallway, his cries lost to the sounds of splintering wood and crumbling stone. Dust and rubble erupted across the hall from the impact, kicked up further by the spiralling eddies of fuuton, quickly masking the combatants.

And so Naohiro, momentarily blind and focused still on the first attacker, was not prepared for the snaking length of wire that appeared all at once through the falling dust. He tried to pull away, to get his hands between his chest and the glinting cable before it wrapped and pulled taut against him, but couldn't react nearly fast enough. Almost before he knew what was happening the wire had coiled around behind him and began shrinking, binding his arms to his sides and compressing his torso. He growled and writhed, but whatever the weapon was, it was clearly built to withstand such strength as he had.

But no Kirigakure ninja would accept defeat so easily, and Naohiro had long since ascended beyond the need to use his hands to fight. A bright glow pierced the settling dust as he began to channel, recalling the layout of the hall and the likely positions of his aggressors. He did not need to be precise, outnumbered as he was. He exhaled with a shout, and with his voice came a torrent of suiton. It burst from his mouth downwards, splashing outwards from around his feet and surging up again in a great wave that rapidly filled the compact environs of the hallway, washing away in all directions with considerable force. If he had the layout of the hall correct, the rushing waters should reach Nishio and his two adjacent bodyguards near the stop of the grand staircase, very likely taking them down with it as it drained. As for the man holding the least now tied around Naohiro's chest—well, he had to hope that the wave would find him, too, flooding all the nearby hallways as it was, and buy Naohiro a moment of respite even if it wasn't strong enough to immediately kill such a skilled opponent.

Jutsu UsedShow

*Suiton • Crashing Wave - Cast at 35ctrl
C-Rank Suiton Ninjutsu
After performing the correct hand seals the user expels a massive tidal wave of water 10 meters wide and nearly 5 meters tall. This wave travels forward at a [35] Speed and Strength for up to 25 meters before losing it's steam and failing.

---

Moments earlier, unbeknownst to Naohiro and his struggle, one of the two men rushing to Nishio's side slowed and hesitated, turning to look back the way he'd come. The sounds of fighting from the Karagata's chamber had been expected, of course, but neither of his comrades had emerged again. Nishio's own attention was fixed on the Kirigakure shinobi down the hall, sparing not a glance to the guard. He licked his lips, then warily drew a short sword and stepped away, back into the path of whatever might emerge from Kinsue's room before it could threaten his employer. Even so, the crash and cry of combat behind him was impossible to ignore, and so he tried to put his back against a wall and swivel his head back and forth, watching both directions as best he could, waiting...

[Jinan B]

The lead samurai, bold as his attack had been, was thoroughly unprepared for the Fuuton to strike against his chest. His armour cushioned the blow somewhat, but blood spewed out from the newly formed wound as he took an unexpected exit outdoors. Crushing the finely kept garden underfoot, he found himself suddenly alone as he heaved for breath – thoroughly winded by the experience. The scraps and cuts taken from the fall were easily assessed, and he judged that there would be time to treat the rather more severe frontal blow once they had dealt with their targets. He had taken worse in Nishio’s service, and right now he needed to make sure he’d live to be hurt again another day.

With the ground floor of the manor entirely sealed by his companion, the only way back to the fight would be level with the Kirigakure shinobi. The hole he had just made was a poor option, but a nearby balcony caught his attention. The large windows would be easy to shatter; and with some distance from the pale-skinned man he would have an opportunity to re-enter the battle advantageously.

Then he remembered. Their real target would be behind that entrance. A sardonic grin crept across his face as he made towards the manor’s wall. The merchant would fall first.

---

For the second of the samurai, altogether wiser (or at least more risk-averse) than the first, things seemed to be going rather well. The team’s attack had worked brilliantly, trapping the bodyguard in his jutsu. What’s more, it seemed that as capable as the famed Aisu Naohiro was; he lacked the strength to break his technique. The man began to move closer, ready to put the bodyguard down when he saw the pale glow of chakra in the air.

Understanding came quickly, and a cry sounded out for the rest of them to retreat from the imminent threat. The young man began to form a slew of urgent hand seals. With the head-start on the side of his opponent and the fact that his prowess was almost certainly greater, it was no surprise that Naohiro was the first to complete his jutsu. As the rushing water flooded the hall, he closed off his jutsu with a desperate cut to the flow of chakra, forming a transparent barrier he knew would not stand up to the incoming force.

Thankfully, it was enough to choke the force of the attack. Though the water forced its way past the crew of bounty hunters, blocking their sight of Naohiro and even sweeping one of Nishio’s attendants off his feet, the damage was minimal. The time granted to the Aisu, on the other hand, was far from insignificant. Momentum was on his side now.

Jutsu UsedShow

*[Ninjutsu • Wall]
D-Ranked Ninjutsu
After performing the correct hand seals the user causes a thin 3x3x1 meter flat barrier to form within 10 meters of them at [Control] Speed and has [Control] Strength. It lasts for 3 posts.

---

Kinsue halted a step before his door-frame, jolting as he heard the sound of shattering glass behind him. As he turned, he saw the frame of one of Nishio’s primary bodyguards silhouetted against the night sky. The sound of his heavy breathing echoed in the relative quiet of the bedchamber – or, was that Kinsue’s own breath he heard? The merchant’s hand tightened around the kunai in his palm.

The samurai, even wounded, would be a far greater threat than the lackeys had been. At the very least, it seemed Noahiro was winning his own battle. Kinsue only needed to stay alive long enough for it to end.

[Valkier]

The torrent of water spewed forth from Naohiro's gullet surged into the hallway, filling it almost to the ceiling with a powerful wall of water. In the moments before it blocked Naohiro's vision he saw the one mercenary standing alone and defiant against him, hands moving in his own set of seals before the wave struck. Bound as he was, Naohiro could only hop awkwardly to one side and a few steps backwards—he knew better than to remain in one spot whenever line-of-sight was broken—while beginning to channel a follow-up technique. He hoped he could do so fast enough, before all the water drained away.

He was surprised to see that same man still standing in the hallway once the initial wave had passed, and quickly re-assessed the strength of his opponents. They were not to be underestimated. Hold on, Kinsue! He wished urgently, not daring to take his eyes off the man before him to look further down the hall towards his friend's room. Luckily, he seemed to have at least interrupted and staggered his opponent. It gave him the opening he needed to follow-up with a second technique.

Should his cast be successful, he would send a wave of blue chakra down into the water still draining throughout the hallway, rapidly chilling it and causing it to flash-freeze in rapid succession along the course of the previous suiton technique. Wherever the water had enveloped targets, snaring legs or carrying people away down the hall or stairs, the liquid would freeze solid in short order, trapping their limbs or bodies. Meanwhile, Naohiro tried again to wrestle free of the bindings, feeling vulnerable now, but with no noticable success. He was held so tightly that he might have to resort to carefully blasting his way out, should the opportunity arise...

Jutsu UsedShow

~Frozen Water: B Class - Cast at 35ctrl
B-Rank Hyouton Ninjutsu
After performing a B-rank Suiton jutsu, the user will do a series of hand seals, rapidly freezing that technique. While the technique may lose it’s ability to permeate and envelope, it will become solid in quality, gaining +[Control] strength in impact force. This technique is useful for trapping in the event the suiton technique has already enveloped something.

---

Matsuda Hideji flew through the broken windows of Kinsue's chamber like a spectre in the night, his tattered haori and splintered armour swaying as he landed and stepped forward. The dim moonlight caught the edge of his kodachi as he settled it across one shoulder, almost casually, though the streaks of blood now running down his arms from his chest spoiled the illusion somewhat.

There you are. Wasn't that easy, now? He sized Kinsue up from across the room, noting the two bodies strewn near the door. So, he has some fight in him, too. But how much? His face split into an eager grin, the smile of a wolf about to begin the chase.

And then suddenly he was moving, darting forward in a blur of zig-zagging steps. Into the room, across towards the desk, the mirros, the bed, trying to keep his victim-to-be guessing as he surged in towards the diplomat to attack. He grabbed hold of a tall, floor-standing candelabra with his offhand as he moved, spinning it around to hold like a staff while his swordpoint lowered, facing Kinsue tip-first. No mere businessman would stop the blade of Matsuda Hideji!

As he reached Kinsue he feinted a thrust with the sword, sending the blade licking out towards Kinsue's left hand side, trying to draw the Kirigakure man's attention that way while he brought the heavy candlestick around in a twirling strike to slam into the Kirigakure man's chest or guard and hammer him backwards...

Jutsu UsedShow

*[color=#b23a22][b][Toryu • Ambidexterity][/b][/color]
D-Rank Taijutsu Discipline
After practicing for a long amount of time with the concept of using both of their hands with equal skill, the user has developed a level of ambidexterity that allows them to utilize both hands equally and as effectively without any penalty. This extends to other methods of combat or simple everyday life as well.

*[b][color=#b23a22][Toryu • Falling Stone][/color][/b]
D-Rank Taijutsu Maneuver
Moving in to launch either an unarmed attack or an attack with their blade, the practitioner will launch a simultaneous unarmed attack or weapon attack with their other hand, bringing their fist or the pommel/butt of their weapon to slam into the opponent's guard, targeting their hands or wrists. Opponents with an Acrobatics technique of equal or higher rank than this technique can resist being disarmed. Otherwise, the practitioner slams the opponent's guard aside, potentially allowing the original attack to strike the opponent directly.