Enma's search was nearing it's end.
Tracking down the body thief was akin to following a trail of breadcrumbs through a haystack in search of a needle that could look like virtually anything. True, the breadcrumbs were there for a hungry crow to find, but many had grown stale and unpalatable in the several seasons that had passed since Henkou was a word that passed anyone's lips laden with dread. Renjiro wanted to be found though, at least by those with the information and talent required to do so.
Beginning with naught but the name of a tavern in the outskirts of Wind Country, Enma might begin to appreciate the meticulous methods of his peer by the time he found him... that is, if those methods hadn't driven him utterly mad. A painted whore well past her prime had been the only one to know anything about a man matching Renji's description, and even then, the only morsel of substance she had to offer was that he'd mentioned that he was a traveling musician, part of a troupe from Kusagakure.
By the time Enma arrived, the only notable troupe in the village had gone on three month tour that would pass through Amegakure and then the Land of Rivers before cutting back up through Fire Country. By then, the troupes manager reasoned, they should have been in a port city in River Country. Sure enough, when Enma caught up with them and began asking questions, one of them, a fetching young man with blond hair and blue eyes, had told a tale of woe about a lover matching that description who had a father dying of pox in Yugakure.
At the Office of Official Records, the clerk would have no information about any pox deaths in decades, but when she brought out her supervisor, he remembered a man like Renji causing quite a stink in an attempt to get an official passport and bill of lading so that he could travel to a particular island in Water Country to sell a shipment of pearls...
And so it went, with The Body Thief of Konohagakure's breadcrumbs left in the care of innocuous, everyday people whom no shinobi would have any reason to care about otherwise. Had the body thief had business in these locations, or was it merely all an elaborate means to find him, carefully networked and developed in the intervening months?
Whatever the case, at Enma's most recent stop- a fishing village on one of Waterfall Country's many swampy lakes- he would have learned of a pale man with pale hair who had been in town buying medicine for his son. Supposedly, he lived in an even more remote village a day's walk from the other side of the lake.
The setting that Enma found himself was hardly worthy of the description of "village"; it was mostly farmland, with miles between each homestead. Inquiries regarding a father and son would lead him to the edge of a fairly idyllic forest, with straight-standing deciduous trees that spread dappled light across the ground. As he drew nearer, he would become aware of a curious, creaking sound, likely unfamiliar or at least hard to place.
Following that sound would lead him to a small woodland clearing, at the center of which was an old stone well and a young man struggling with the rusted crank to draw a bucket up the pulley that dipped down into the water below.
He certainly didn't look like a shinobi. He was thin, and not in the lean, muscular way that the products of ninja villages were. His struggles with the crank seemed earnest, but he labored patiently, having found a rhythm that involved throwing the entirety of his slender body into the crank, working it more with his bony shoulder than his hands. His manner of dressing was unremarkable- linen vest and pants in a dusky blue, a white peasant's shirt, and boots with the wear of the road upon him. He wore his hair in a bit of a shaggy mess. A pair of sunglasses, simple frames and virtually opaque black lenses, was the only accessory he favored. By all appearances he was unarmed.
As Enma drew nearer, he would hear faint strains of strong that had previously been eclipsed by the metallic whine of the crank. The words were punctuated by the occasional grunt or heavy breath, but would be clear. The youth's voice was fine, if unimpressive and soft, and likely deeper than anyone would have guessed from looking at him.
"A wander-wander-wander-ing,
A wide and far-ranging wander-ing,
A wander-wander-wander-ing,
A traveling we will go.
A traveling we will go,
A traveling we will go,
And when we wind up where we're wander-ing,
Well then we will finally know."
The bucket had finally appeared above the well. With a grunt of finality, the boy locked the crank into place and set to hefting the bucket, which was indeed quite large, off of the hook it was hanging from. Preoccupied with his task, he continued humming the next verse of the road song, unaware of any watching eyes or ill intent.
Somewhere That's Green
Somewhere That's Green
Stories were still told in Konoha about the body thief. Mothers scared their children straight with his name. Somewhere in the annals of history, Renjiro Yamanaka (as he was known to higher-ups in Konoha and his close friends) had ascended from humanity and became a legend. There were very few people that Enma envied. Yaku's old partner was one of those people. Long ago, when he was still an agent of Konoha, he'd volunteered to hunt the legend. This was before Henkou. It was before the body thief reared his head up. Going alone as he always did, he moved through all the usual trails that a missing-nin would take and found nothing for the effort.
The body thief had inspired his knack for the henge jutsu, off-brand imitation though it was of his brilliance. Disguising yourself in a crowd was a valuable skill that many shinobi underestimated. For a culture that prided itself on stealth, the word clandestine was lost on many of his fellow ninja. The order from Yaku was direct, as many things were with the faceless man. Find Renjiro, tell him the plan was ready to go.
Kill him if he refuses to cooperate.
Yaku could be so boring sometimes. The interesting people deserved to be kept alive. The older missing-nin almost seemed like he was testing Enma when he gave him the name of a tavern in Wind Country. The town had narrowly managed to avoid destruction at the hands of a genma due to its placement slightly out of the creature's path. Asking around with practiced smiles, he found someone that knew of Renji. After a night spent with her doing what he did best (but with consent and a few ryou emptied from his pocket), he set off on the trail. Old instincts kicked in, old methods of hunting a man down. Theirs was a big, open world. There were a lot of places for a person to lose themselves in.
This was a challenge. Enma never backed down from a challenge. By the time his trek through half the known world was done (mostly spent with Yaku. The hooded man had business in the area usually. He came and went as he pleased), he thought he found him. It was only a lover though, and he went off pecking at the breadcrumbs. Every encounter left him second guessing himself. Was that one boy Renji? What about the person faring him to Water Country? Maybe he was being followed all along.
Enma reflected as he walked through Waterfall about how easy it would be to grow paranoid with Renji as a foe. You could never truly be safe and he'd never be so brazen as to reveal himself carelessly. The details of Yaku and Renji's meeting had never been revealed to him...he wondered how Yaku had tracked him down. Probably in a way that made him seem hamfisted, if Enma had to guess. Following this trail of father and sons in Waterfall, he was finally nearing what he hoped would be the last stop. If there was one member of Henkou that could stay inside Waterfall undetected after Dokuja Yaksha's failures, it was Renji.
If Enma had to describe his present surroundings, he'd say they were like the beginning of a cliche fantasy novel. Farmlands for miles, a land that remained untouched by man and monster, and water so clear he could see his reflection. Most people in the area seemed annoyed by him because he brought along crows. They pecked at the crops and flew off cawing with laughter.
He looked like a city boy. His fur lined jacket had been removed due to the heat of the day. Below was a dull pink shirt. Its sleeves were just short enough to give tantalizing hints about the scars hidden beneath. The boy struggling with a well. When it was finally brought up, he saw a heavy bucket of water. Exhausted from his search he had half a mind to steal the water and book it.
But he didn't do that. Especially not when his target was potentially in the area. A few crows were sitting in the trees, watching and waiting for their master's call. Walking towards the boy, he spoke in a voice a few pitches higher than his natural one. "That's a pretty song you were singing. I heard it all the way from the road and thought I'd pay my respects to the singer." It was a lie of course. He'd heard the creaking of the water and his true intent had been more malicious at first.
"Do you need help with that?" The gray haired man asked as he observed the boy's struggle with the bucket. "I may not look it, but I'm used to this kind of work." Another lie. His muscle tone was from years of combat and training.
Now it was a matter of figuring out whether he was dealing with a fellow liar or an honest bumpkin.
The body thief had inspired his knack for the henge jutsu, off-brand imitation though it was of his brilliance. Disguising yourself in a crowd was a valuable skill that many shinobi underestimated. For a culture that prided itself on stealth, the word clandestine was lost on many of his fellow ninja. The order from Yaku was direct, as many things were with the faceless man. Find Renjiro, tell him the plan was ready to go.
Kill him if he refuses to cooperate.
Yaku could be so boring sometimes. The interesting people deserved to be kept alive. The older missing-nin almost seemed like he was testing Enma when he gave him the name of a tavern in Wind Country. The town had narrowly managed to avoid destruction at the hands of a genma due to its placement slightly out of the creature's path. Asking around with practiced smiles, he found someone that knew of Renji. After a night spent with her doing what he did best (but with consent and a few ryou emptied from his pocket), he set off on the trail. Old instincts kicked in, old methods of hunting a man down. Theirs was a big, open world. There were a lot of places for a person to lose themselves in.
This was a challenge. Enma never backed down from a challenge. By the time his trek through half the known world was done (mostly spent with Yaku. The hooded man had business in the area usually. He came and went as he pleased), he thought he found him. It was only a lover though, and he went off pecking at the breadcrumbs. Every encounter left him second guessing himself. Was that one boy Renji? What about the person faring him to Water Country? Maybe he was being followed all along.
Enma reflected as he walked through Waterfall about how easy it would be to grow paranoid with Renji as a foe. You could never truly be safe and he'd never be so brazen as to reveal himself carelessly. The details of Yaku and Renji's meeting had never been revealed to him...he wondered how Yaku had tracked him down. Probably in a way that made him seem hamfisted, if Enma had to guess. Following this trail of father and sons in Waterfall, he was finally nearing what he hoped would be the last stop. If there was one member of Henkou that could stay inside Waterfall undetected after Dokuja Yaksha's failures, it was Renji.
If Enma had to describe his present surroundings, he'd say they were like the beginning of a cliche fantasy novel. Farmlands for miles, a land that remained untouched by man and monster, and water so clear he could see his reflection. Most people in the area seemed annoyed by him because he brought along crows. They pecked at the crops and flew off cawing with laughter.
He looked like a city boy. His fur lined jacket had been removed due to the heat of the day. Below was a dull pink shirt. Its sleeves were just short enough to give tantalizing hints about the scars hidden beneath. The boy struggling with a well. When it was finally brought up, he saw a heavy bucket of water. Exhausted from his search he had half a mind to steal the water and book it.
But he didn't do that. Especially not when his target was potentially in the area. A few crows were sitting in the trees, watching and waiting for their master's call. Walking towards the boy, he spoke in a voice a few pitches higher than his natural one. "That's a pretty song you were singing. I heard it all the way from the road and thought I'd pay my respects to the singer." It was a lie of course. He'd heard the creaking of the water and his true intent had been more malicious at first.
"Do you need help with that?" The gray haired man asked as he observed the boy's struggle with the bucket. "I may not look it, but I'm used to this kind of work." Another lie. His muscle tone was from years of combat and training.
Now it was a matter of figuring out whether he was dealing with a fellow liar or an honest bumpkin.
S-Rank Missing Nin • Konohagakure's Most Wanted • Missions: S:1 A:3 B:7 C:0 D:0
| Nin: 9 | Tai: 8 | Gen: 10 | Sta: 15 | Con: 15 | Str: 11 | Spe: 10 | Wit: 11 |
| Nin: 9 | Tai: 8 | Gen: 10 | Sta: 15 | Con: 15 | Str: 11 | Spe: 10 | Wit: 11 |
Somewhere That's Green
Enma didn't seem to be exercising much caution; as a result, Isao was already studying as he approached, paid his compliment, and offered his assistance. From behind his sunglasses, he studied the interloper, but his expression remained typically stoic. Well, typical for when Isao had actually been himself, anyway. The body thief had not survived as long as he had through half-measures. Even drawing water from a well, he was in character as the boy he planned to take down Takigakure with. As he watched Enma, he shifted his weight into a wider-legged stance to better manage the massive bucket of water with his slight frame, trembling ever so slightly until he had found his center of gravity.
When he spoke, it was with Isao's flat, measured tone. His voice evinced the strain presented by the physical endurance he was exhibiting, gaining the very slightest of edges.
"If you will excuse my skepticism, sir, you look like you are far from home. We get few travelers this way, so I cannot help but regard you with some suspicion, much though I appreciate your offer." What little muscle there was in his forearms was completely engaged, bringing veins into prominence, by the time he finished speaking. Clenching his teeth for show, he bent at the knees and lowered the bucket to the ground. He was mindful not to jar his sunglasses as he did; that would complicate things.
Rising to his full height once more with the bucket more or less at his feet, he folded his narrow arms across his chest and regarded the stranger anew. There were only so many possible vectors that this encounter could travel. The least likely was that this man was exactly what he presented himself as. The most likely, which could take an infinite variety of forms, was that his will was ill. On the lower end of the spectrum, he was some sort of common criminal, perhaps intending to rob or rape the hapless boy he'd stumbled across. On the higher end... well, he could be a hunter-nin. That seemed unlikely though. Why now, after so many years? The only hunters he'd encountered (and dispatched) in the past had been incidentals- individuals he'd run into who had realized who or what he was. They'd never actually found him.
It could finally be Yaku coming to call, though sending someone unknown was... well, dangerous, really. It made that eventuality unlikely but not impossible. And what was the significance of the appearance of so many crows? Renji hardly lacked for perception, particularly when he was wearing Isao. The only real question that remained was how to play this. Divested of the water, he wasn't at any significant disadvantage.
"Carrying this water will make me stronger," he added, only a beat or so after his prior statement. "But if you are tired and hungry, you are welcome to walk with me. I live nearby with my father, and we believe in hospitality." He said all of this without smiling; it wasn't hard to imagine Isao being perfunctorily polite to such an extreme, though. "Might I have your name, sir?"
When he spoke, it was with Isao's flat, measured tone. His voice evinced the strain presented by the physical endurance he was exhibiting, gaining the very slightest of edges.
"If you will excuse my skepticism, sir, you look like you are far from home. We get few travelers this way, so I cannot help but regard you with some suspicion, much though I appreciate your offer." What little muscle there was in his forearms was completely engaged, bringing veins into prominence, by the time he finished speaking. Clenching his teeth for show, he bent at the knees and lowered the bucket to the ground. He was mindful not to jar his sunglasses as he did; that would complicate things.
Rising to his full height once more with the bucket more or less at his feet, he folded his narrow arms across his chest and regarded the stranger anew. There were only so many possible vectors that this encounter could travel. The least likely was that this man was exactly what he presented himself as. The most likely, which could take an infinite variety of forms, was that his will was ill. On the lower end of the spectrum, he was some sort of common criminal, perhaps intending to rob or rape the hapless boy he'd stumbled across. On the higher end... well, he could be a hunter-nin. That seemed unlikely though. Why now, after so many years? The only hunters he'd encountered (and dispatched) in the past had been incidentals- individuals he'd run into who had realized who or what he was. They'd never actually found him.
It could finally be Yaku coming to call, though sending someone unknown was... well, dangerous, really. It made that eventuality unlikely but not impossible. And what was the significance of the appearance of so many crows? Renji hardly lacked for perception, particularly when he was wearing Isao. The only real question that remained was how to play this. Divested of the water, he wasn't at any significant disadvantage.
"Carrying this water will make me stronger," he added, only a beat or so after his prior statement. "But if you are tired and hungry, you are welcome to walk with me. I live nearby with my father, and we believe in hospitality." He said all of this without smiling; it wasn't hard to imagine Isao being perfunctorily polite to such an extreme, though. "Might I have your name, sir?"
Somewhere That's Green
It takes a thief to catch a thief
An old proverb from some wiseman or another went like that. In this case, it took a world class actor to fool someone likewise predisposed towards deception. The only red flag that was waved in the boy's presence was one that had been waving ever since he started this goose chase. Enma knew Renji was good. It was only after much scrutiny that he let his guard down around anyone. He liked his body.
Granted, if Renjiro could see him with a shirt off, he might pass on taking over this particular person. Enma was, after all, used goods. A few of the old wounds still caused him pain every now and then. The clear strain of the boy's muscles wasn't lost on him. If there was anything benevolent inside of him, he'd once again offer assistance. As it was, he dismissed the notion of helping the boy with a shrug that almost screamed suit yourself.
His crows cawed impatiently. Many of his familiars hadn't ate manflesh for weeks. They only ever got to sample the real goods whenever Enma invited them out to play. Tuning in to their sea of consciousness, he could hear the debate over whether to simply eat the boy. A stern mental gaze as he continued to observe the struggle and listen to the observation of the teen was all that it took to shut them up.
They were cowards when it came to him.
"You can say that again. You folks that live around here are lucky. You just barely avoided the genma's rampage." Not, coincidentally, unlike the town in wind country where this chase had started. "I'm looking for someone. Some farmer or another that lives in the area. He's a friend of a friend. He probably knows other friends too." It was only half a lie. Yaku was nothing close to his friend.
Enma walked a single pace behind the boy as he offered to take him to his homestead. He nodded solemnly. Every line of his face contorted into a thankful expression. "Thank you. I'm glad to see the old ways haven't died just 'cause times are tough." His reason for staying behind the boy was that he didn't have the luxury of being able to check people out while his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. In his peripheral vision, he observed the way he carried himself, the struggle to put one foot in front of the other with the bucket. It was enjoyable to watch him struggle.
Might I have your name, sir?
"Only if you promise to keep calling me sir." It was a teasing jab, the kind that would put most people on edge. It was amusing for him to gauge reactions. "Jonichi." He replied anyway. It was a lie that had passed his lips so many times that it was almost true. He followed the boy and found himself thoroughly enjoying the momentary break from only having a thousand-thousand screaming crows for company.
"Where'd ya get those?" Enma asked while pointing at the sunglasses. Items like that were rather luxurious, especially amongst farm boys who probably couldn't afford much. He'd met a lot of people that couldn't accomplish much in life because they couldn't afford eyeglasses and here this kid was with glasses that did nothing but block the sun.
An old proverb from some wiseman or another went like that. In this case, it took a world class actor to fool someone likewise predisposed towards deception. The only red flag that was waved in the boy's presence was one that had been waving ever since he started this goose chase. Enma knew Renji was good. It was only after much scrutiny that he let his guard down around anyone. He liked his body.
Granted, if Renjiro could see him with a shirt off, he might pass on taking over this particular person. Enma was, after all, used goods. A few of the old wounds still caused him pain every now and then. The clear strain of the boy's muscles wasn't lost on him. If there was anything benevolent inside of him, he'd once again offer assistance. As it was, he dismissed the notion of helping the boy with a shrug that almost screamed suit yourself.
His crows cawed impatiently. Many of his familiars hadn't ate manflesh for weeks. They only ever got to sample the real goods whenever Enma invited them out to play. Tuning in to their sea of consciousness, he could hear the debate over whether to simply eat the boy. A stern mental gaze as he continued to observe the struggle and listen to the observation of the teen was all that it took to shut them up.
They were cowards when it came to him.
"You can say that again. You folks that live around here are lucky. You just barely avoided the genma's rampage." Not, coincidentally, unlike the town in wind country where this chase had started. "I'm looking for someone. Some farmer or another that lives in the area. He's a friend of a friend. He probably knows other friends too." It was only half a lie. Yaku was nothing close to his friend.
Enma walked a single pace behind the boy as he offered to take him to his homestead. He nodded solemnly. Every line of his face contorted into a thankful expression. "Thank you. I'm glad to see the old ways haven't died just 'cause times are tough." His reason for staying behind the boy was that he didn't have the luxury of being able to check people out while his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. In his peripheral vision, he observed the way he carried himself, the struggle to put one foot in front of the other with the bucket. It was enjoyable to watch him struggle.
Might I have your name, sir?
"Only if you promise to keep calling me sir." It was a teasing jab, the kind that would put most people on edge. It was amusing for him to gauge reactions. "Jonichi." He replied anyway. It was a lie that had passed his lips so many times that it was almost true. He followed the boy and found himself thoroughly enjoying the momentary break from only having a thousand-thousand screaming crows for company.
"Where'd ya get those?" Enma asked while pointing at the sunglasses. Items like that were rather luxurious, especially amongst farm boys who probably couldn't afford much. He'd met a lot of people that couldn't accomplish much in life because they couldn't afford eyeglasses and here this kid was with glasses that did nothing but block the sun.
S-Rank Missing Nin • Konohagakure's Most Wanted • Missions: S:1 A:3 B:7 C:0 D:0
| Nin: 9 | Tai: 8 | Gen: 10 | Sta: 15 | Con: 15 | Str: 11 | Spe: 10 | Wit: 11 |
| Nin: 9 | Tai: 8 | Gen: 10 | Sta: 15 | Con: 15 | Str: 11 | Spe: 10 | Wit: 11 |
Somewhere That's Green
Renji was forced to suppress a smile as the situation played out. After months of idling and planning, things were finally getting interesting again. The stranger's words narrowed the potential parameters of their interaction even further. The vague, half-code he'd employed almost certainly meant that he was an emissary of Yaku, which was fascinating. He was well aware that the Fushinkou didn't know nearly as much about him as he thought (after all, Renjiro had cultivated their relationship as such), but he wouldn't have sent merely anyone to deal with the body thief. If Renji were a gambling man, he'd have put the odds at 70% that this Jonichi was an agent of Henkou.
The other 30%... well, that was the chance that this man was a hunter-nin that had managed to find and follow a trail that lasted for generations. If that was the case, he was likely even more dangerous than Renjiro could imagine. Either way, there was a 100% chance that his isolated wait was over.
He set Isao's body to walking, lugging the heavy bucket of water and leading the way, doing his level best to not betray the strain involved with doing so. That same strain was apparent as he replied. "We have not lived here so long. We did see signs of the destruction coming here, though." Tit for tat. If Jonichi was offering up lies as information, Renji would do the same. Even if they were allies, that was hardly a reason not to eek every ounce of enjoyment out of the situation as possible.
He did throw a glance over at Enma at the teasing comment. Losing his faked focus meant that he had to nearly fake trip, which he almost did- in fact, Enma might even have come to the rescue. Cheeks blazing crimson, the wolf-in-sheep's-clothing would manage to keep from tumbling over and spilling his bucket. His hidden gaze dropped to the path in front of him when his eyewear was mentioned. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and then with a hint of shame tightening his voice like a bowstring, he replied. "I have a... condition. My eyes are very sensitive, and their appearance can be alarming to other folk. My father prefers that I wear them, and really, I've worn them for so long that I don't really think of them at all." It would dovetail nicely with the story Renji had been selling about obtaining medication for his son. It was also a moment of vulnerability. Embarrassment at this city-stranger's intimate tone, shame regarding his condition, pride regarding the portage of the water.
This was what separated Renjiro Yamanaka from a host of other impersonators and infiltrators. Espionage was as important to shinobi as commerce was to villagers. Even in the middle of nowhere, he had been Isao drawing water. Struggling, uncertain Isao, with his strange glasses and solemn ways. If it had been three more weeks before Enma's visit, he still would have found Isao. The body thief was no mere actor; he was living an entire life, if only a few months of it.
"There are not so many living in this part of the country. It is likely that I know the farmer you are seeking, if he is still here, erm, sir." He threw Enma a quick glance as he complied with the teasing request the other had made, just a hint of color returning to his cheeks as he did. He was almost immediately looking back at the road.
The other 30%... well, that was the chance that this man was a hunter-nin that had managed to find and follow a trail that lasted for generations. If that was the case, he was likely even more dangerous than Renjiro could imagine. Either way, there was a 100% chance that his isolated wait was over.
He set Isao's body to walking, lugging the heavy bucket of water and leading the way, doing his level best to not betray the strain involved with doing so. That same strain was apparent as he replied. "We have not lived here so long. We did see signs of the destruction coming here, though." Tit for tat. If Jonichi was offering up lies as information, Renji would do the same. Even if they were allies, that was hardly a reason not to eek every ounce of enjoyment out of the situation as possible.
He did throw a glance over at Enma at the teasing comment. Losing his faked focus meant that he had to nearly fake trip, which he almost did- in fact, Enma might even have come to the rescue. Cheeks blazing crimson, the wolf-in-sheep's-clothing would manage to keep from tumbling over and spilling his bucket. His hidden gaze dropped to the path in front of him when his eyewear was mentioned. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and then with a hint of shame tightening his voice like a bowstring, he replied. "I have a... condition. My eyes are very sensitive, and their appearance can be alarming to other folk. My father prefers that I wear them, and really, I've worn them for so long that I don't really think of them at all." It would dovetail nicely with the story Renji had been selling about obtaining medication for his son. It was also a moment of vulnerability. Embarrassment at this city-stranger's intimate tone, shame regarding his condition, pride regarding the portage of the water.
This was what separated Renjiro Yamanaka from a host of other impersonators and infiltrators. Espionage was as important to shinobi as commerce was to villagers. Even in the middle of nowhere, he had been Isao drawing water. Struggling, uncertain Isao, with his strange glasses and solemn ways. If it had been three more weeks before Enma's visit, he still would have found Isao. The body thief was no mere actor; he was living an entire life, if only a few months of it.
"There are not so many living in this part of the country. It is likely that I know the farmer you are seeking, if he is still here, erm, sir." He threw Enma a quick glance as he complied with the teasing request the other had made, just a hint of color returning to his cheeks as he did. He was almost immediately looking back at the road.