After disregarding Esumi’s protests, Ren managed to pull his sorry carcass towards a rather densely packed shinobi center. He still looked nothing like the wanted posters going up, and Esumi was able to either dodge or wave off anyone else who might have been curious, but their stalling wasn’t going to last for long. Ren stumbled his way into a particular alley, one that looked like it was built directly into the wall of a larger building. A simple wooden stall bordered by short, ugly palm trees stood there, with only one stool and a very unhappy looking cashier. The old woman that stood behind the stall was covered in a variety of cigarette brands and types, strapped to her body like armor, making her ready to move at a moment’s notice. As long as she wasn’t an official ‘business’ address, she could avoid paying trading tariffs, and it kept people’s noses out of her side business.
Ren’s large body completely shaded the woman as he approached. Her expression betrayed nothing, but her tone more than made it clear she knew who Ren was.
“No, none today, thanks.” The old woman grunted with a dismissive wave.
“Auntie, please -”
“You think I haven’t heard the racket? You’re bad for business. I didn’t even see you.”
Ren sucked on his teeth and rummaged around in his pockets, producing a small, heavily worn book. “Lightning religious text. Incredibly rare. Given to me by-”
The book was snatched from his hands so quickly that he barely had a chance to recognize it. He groped at the air for a few seconds, and then split into a grin. “So we have a deal?”
The old lady grunted again as she flipped through the pages. “Did you kill that old drunkard to get this?”
Ren gathered up all his charisma to response with a “What do you think?”, but the result was him burping halfway through with nausea from the meds Esumi gave him. The old woman clucked her tongue but didn’t press the issue. Instead she tapped the side of the stall with the back of her knuckles and the cigarettes slid down to reveal a connoisseur’s collection of smaller shinobi tools. Kunai, shuriken, explosive notes, poisons, the ‘works’ as kids might have called it. Notably the materials used differed significantly from the standard issue Kirigakure tools lent out to their own soldiers. These were imports, untaxed and unregulated. Esumi pretended to be more preoccupied standing as a lookout to notice the obvious illegality on display.
“I just need to refresh my kit,” Ren said, pointing at a bundle of kunai and explosive notes. “And if you got anything to take the edge off, that'd be swell too.”
The Auntie’s hands moved quick to flick through the merchandise, handing product down to Ren with one hand while her other was admiring the quality of his smuggled book. It seemed as though she had already figured out exactly what Ren needed before he could even ask for it. “If you didn’t always come up with the goods,” she grumbled, “I’d be selling you out right now.”
Ren smiled and the last item she slid forward was a small rectangular box. “Soldier pills. Not the new weak crap, these are from back in the day, the stuff that used to kill the men who popped too many of them. So you know it’s the good stuff. ‘Cept they’re expired now. Should still be good for a good for nothing like you, though.” Huffing she slammed the book shut, and pulled up her curtain of cigarette boxes to disguise the black market goods. “I didn’t see you, and you didn’t see me. Good luck, kid.”
After departing the alley and heading towards a less populated area of Kirkgaure, Esumi finally risked a furious whisper to Ren. “A smuggling operation!” She hissed like a viper and kept glancing back over her shoulder. “I can’t believe- you haven’t been taking any banned drugs have you?!”
“The old grannie’s fine. Just tools. Doesn’t hock anything particularly bad or she’d be in prison, obviously. You think I’m the only person who uses her? I know your MLEA buddies aren’t any better!”
“I’m just saying,” Esumi grit her teeth before pulling Ren down a pathway that lead to a small, greener looking courtyard. “You’re already in trouble, why keep adding crimes to the list?!”
“Nowhere to go but up.” Ren grinned after he popped one of the round pills from the old, degraded looking tin. “It’s like one of those old serials we watched when we were kids. If you’re the good guy, everything works out in the end, right?”
-
“God damn it!” Niigata Jakushou slammed the receiver of the radio down hard enough to bent its metal frame. “The Water Lord wants a report every ten minutes and we have nothing. How do we have nothing, Lieutenant?”
“It’s, uh.” Standing over a paper map of Kirigakure, a sheepish looking shinobi gestured vaguely at the many pins across its surface. “We have too many holes in the perimeter. We’re spread too thin.”
“Wrong!” Jakushou hissed as his nails dug into the wooden table. “It’s the Mizukage! Her damn orders- if she’d kept this quiet, our hunters would have isolated this chuunin in hours and the Water Lord would have his damn precious toy back. Instead she raised all these alarms and now every dumbass shinobi looking to make a name for themself is running around and causing chaos. I've already seen three penguins today! That's three penguins too many!”
“Well, uh.” The chuunin mumbled and fiddled with his fingers. “That was probably on purpose, right? She doesn’t want the Water Lord to catch this Ren guy first-”
“He’s responsible for the death of MLEA Agents!” Jakushou was nearly red in the face, but after a few deep breaths he calmed down. “She’s going to- if any more of my people die because she can’t get along with the Water Lord, there will be hell to pay. I am the Director of the MLEA. I will make sure the guilty will atone for their crimes.”
“Is this, uh, a bad time to bring up...” Again the timid chuunin gave a weak, placating gesture. “I heard Keigo Daizi has been calling in favors. Part of the reason our men might be so slow to react is-”
“Is it intentional?” Jakushou’s voice dropped an octave as his shadow now loomed over the map. “You’re telling me this incompetence is on purpose? I don't care how many shinobi Daizi saved in his prime, he's a washed up old git now.”
“Uh, yes. I mean, no. Er, maybe. It’s not incompetence, it’s-”
“-it’s not doing their job. I don’t want to hear excuses.” It took him two seconds of scanning the map before he pounded his finger onto a specific location. “It’s here, isn’t it? Those dumb bastards and their honor are going to get this whole village wiped off the map. I don’t know why the Water Lord wants this kid- but we’re going to stop this nonsense before anyone else gets hurt. Am I clear?”
“But Miss Maya-”
“You have your orders!” Jakushou roared, and like that his office was once again empty. Alone, his anger subsided. He allowed himself one, brief look out the window. The morning fog was gone and the tropical sun was once again illuminating all of Kirigakure.
And if you knew where to look, dozens of uniform-clad shinobi darted from rooftop to rooftop, all headed in the same direction.
-
After making Ren spit out the pill so she could examine it, Esumi’s face contorted into a series of conflicting emotions. That Konohagakure goods could be found in an alley so close to her home made her stomach do flips, but the potency of the drug itself made her wonder what else could be hiding in those back alleys that she didn’t know about. Who, exactly, was Gushiken Ren? How did he have these contacts? She was so focused on the tinctures and syringes and medicinal powders that she didn’t think twice about Ren lighting up an herbal cigarette – supposedly good for bowel movements and internal bleeding alike – despite his instance that he had been trying to quit. After confirming there weren’t any toxins in the meds, Esumi let Ren use them, though her extreme disapproval was clear on her face. Her hand glowed with sheer energy as she encouraged the medication to take root in his body and wound.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Okay…” She sighed, and then lightly tapped the wound spot with the back of her knuckles. They were both in the shade of a large palm, sitting in one of the not super well maintained ‘parks’ that dotted Kirigakure’s boundaries. Ren heaved and doubled over, yanking down his shirt and armor. He started to say something, but coughed up on his foul cloud of smoke. “You still need some proper doctoring, but I’m less worried about you bleeding out before we get you to your boss.”
“Our boss.” He managed. Esumi’s lips drew a fine line as she shook her head a little and leaned back away from him.
Ren was supposed to be a simple man. Always had been, as far back as she could remember. One foot in some self-declared nobility and honor, like he had a samurai’s heritage, and the other thigh-deep in sewage. His brain seemed to only function on a cycle of sleep – fuck – kill and he rarely, if ever, pontificated any deeper than I’m the strongest! or I’ll revive the Bloody Mist!. As he had aged, the childish ideals of grandeur had faded and left behind a shell filled mostly with booze and blood. Gushiken Ren, the Jellyfish, wasn’t any more admirable than a thug.
Or at least that was what he was supposed to be. A simple killer, a dog bred for nothing more than violent activities, destined to grind out an existence for his village until he was used up and tossed overboard. Sure, he could sail a boat. He knew how to navigate by starlight. He could fake a dozen accents and speak some of the pidgin between the nations, but really, he offered very little else to the world. Esumi didn’t think of that as a bad thing, or a good thing – it was just the nature of the beast. Some shinobi killed, some hunted, some decoded messages, some barked orders. Ren drank and swore and hurt people. What else could someone like him hope for?
She, in her squat, looked up at the sky. Or tried to, through the mist hanging over the village. Esumi’s jaw clenched. They were the same, in that they were both ninja...but they operated on completely different sides of the coin. Her job was precise and mandated and rigorous. She was a healer and a good record-keeper. She worked for the Mist Law Enforcement Agency, and was sworn to uphold its laws. Even if the Water Lord abused their power occasionally, it wasn’t outright war, and as Ren proved many Kirigakure shinobi needed that type of leash for their own good. He was a wild dog with a giant stick. The rumors of what he got up to were almost certainly just that. A bog standard raid on a pirate hideout might transform into some grand story of heroics but she knew Ren better than almost anyway, and he just...wasn’t supposed to be the type to get wrapped up in things like this. She could admire his heart for freedom and resent his vileness but, having come up alongside him, she couldn’t find it in herself to truly hate him.
Esumi knew what it meant to be raised in Kirigakure. In any hidden shinobi village, really. When your job is to settle disputes with a sword, lots of issues start to look like a fight to the death. That damnable bloody Mist he crowed about, that twisted philosophy of ends justifying means and strength being the final determination of one’s worth. She could see why it appealed to Ren. Why wouldn’t it? He was large and tall and strong. But what about the rest of the people in the village, in the world?
There was MLEA missing and presumed dead. Her coworkers. People who shared her ideals. Living a life on the razor’s edge, the violent and brutal world of being a shinobi, didn’t make it easier to settle with your friends killing your friends.
She glanced at him, as he finished his cigarette and snuffed it out on the bottom of his boot.
“Dodging these patrols is easier than I thought,” Ren wheezed. His voice sounded much more relaxed, even more so than when he wasn’t patched up from horrible injuries. “Guess the MLEA isn’t as scary as you thought, huh?”
“Yeah.” Esumi released her clenching jaw just long enough to chew a bit on her cheek in concern. “Guess so.”
Ankle deep water, clear and fresh, moved slowly through the grove. The exposed roots of thirsty trees curled up and around them, some arcing thirty feet or more into the sky, and the trees attached to them larger still – but underneath was brush and water of a wide and shallow river. Life teemed here, dozens of varieties of fish and tadpole and lizard and snake all lived in a violent harmony. Even a few otters swam close by, peaking their heads out like curious children, before ducking back under the water. They were bold, to swim up so close to a pair of slow moving shinobi, each footstep on the surface of the water barely leaving a ripple. A large turtle – maybe the size of a house, if not more – basked in the distance, slowly flapping its fins in a mockery of swimming, too large to sneak into the roots of the grove.
Ren and Esumi came to a stop in unison. Esumi had led them through one of the larger ‘wild’ areas of Kirigakure, to avoid the thicker congestion of the village as the patrols grew more vigilant. True to her word the area was almost deserted despite its proximity to Kirigakure’s centers of authority.
“Ren…” Esumi, standing behind Ren as he examined the area, trailed off as she noticed something up in the branches. “We need to stop here.”
With a sharp inhale Ren turned around to face Esumi. He saw her right in the middle of pulling a kunai from her sleeve. His eyes, slightly glazed over from medication and stress, glanced up and down from the weapon to her face in an attempt to avoid coming to the obvious conclusion.
“I have my own ninja way to protect.” She spoke with a resolve he’d heard before, though Ren never thought he’d be the one on the receiving end of it. “Shinobi that break the rules are pond scum. But the shinobi that turns their back on their friends -”
“Revenge, you mean.”
“-are worse than scum. I’ve got an obligation to my people, our people, Ren. The world is bigger than you.”
“So why did you bother patching me up so well in the first place - ah!” He took a step forward but she waved her kunai right in his face, urging him backwards. He retreated deeper into the watery grove, farther from the civilians and rank-and-file of the village proper. Ren’s giant sword was deadly but taking it out at this range would have easily given Esumi time to drive the dagger into his throat- and even then, he questioned if he had the mental fortitude to pull it off.
“’cause even if you’re worse than scum, you’re still a Kirigakure shinobi. An duel with no honor brings no peace.”
“Sounds like you’ve been reading into that bloody Mist stuff after all, huh?”
Where once the roots curling around them seemed empty, now the shadows and figures of a dozen shinobi and a dozen more making themselves visible. Ren was pushed with a firm shove from behind up, and the jeering around him started.
Swamp dog, die in your swamp. Half-breed, kinslayer. Traitor. Laptop. Weak Jellyfish, boneless, helpless, cowardly. Not fit to be a shinobi. Not fit to live.
“Well?!” He shouted, his words drowning in the chorus against him. “Who am I so honorably dueling first? Guess I got a lot of rivals today!”
”To arms!"
In unison the slander stopped as a shout came from someone unseen. The Kirigakure shinobi surrounding Ren separated, and formed a perimeter. They each drew their swords in turn and pointed them inward. The jeering disappeared, replaced instead by a rhythmic, slow chant that grew in speed. The bellowing voice came from somewhere in the surrounding mist, from an unseen source.
”The cannon, she roars!”
The surrounding observers chanted back without missing a beat.
”Roars!”
”The ocean, she seethes!”
”Seethes!”
”Blossom, blood red rose!”
A pair of heavy boots landed in the moist earth with enough force to kick up a small cloud of mist.
Standing at one end of the circle of men was an elderly gentleman, dressed in a somewhat dusty and slightly too large uniform. A long bladed weapon rested loosely in his weathered palm. ”I suppose that’s enough formalities. Gushiken Ren, my name is Keigo Dazai. Twenty years ago, you stole my son’s future.” Keigo raised his weapon up so the tip pointed at the chuunin. ”I practiced what I’d say, if I was ever given the chance to cut you down like you did my boy. Frankly, now that I look at you, I think I’d just be wasting my breath.”
“Slay Gushiken immediately if he breaches the circle.” One of the surrounding shinobi who looked to be in charge pointed and gestured, causing the men around him to shift in response. “Lookouts, if any of Maya’s goons get close, end the duel and kill Ren immediately. The Water Lord won’t be as forgiving as Niigata if we let his prize fall to the wrong hands.”
“Guess we’re on a timer then, eh?” Keigo lifted his weapon. “Want to run your mouth before we start? It's your right as the one being challenged. Last words, and all that.”
Ren tilted his head to the side, stretching his spine and shoulders with a series of audible pops. Then, he slowly lowered his hands from his surrendered pose, resting one on the hilt of his sword. He twisted his wrist and the sword swung out from his back in a wide arc, flipped around with the sound of sheer iron, and came to a rest in front of him, broadside of the massive blade facing outward.
The blade was a testament to an old philosophy of Mist – but most people saw it as an embarrassing compensation. A large butcher’s knife when an elegant blade should be used. None of that abstract stuff really penetrated Ren’s consciousness. He was a big man, with big opinions, and he needed a big sword to match. Why over complicate things?
“Lawmen, wimps, and two-faced scoundrels. That’s all I see.” He twisted his neck again, pointing with his forehead at the shinobi all around them. “An infestation of fools who all lost their way. What words could I possibly have for you? Any of you?! If the Water Lord’s lackeys want a fight, I’ll give them one!”
He swung his sword out until it was resting before him in his combat stance. He shifted his legs out to the side – and felt his torso protest. He clenched his teeth in sudden pain, but turned it as best he could into a wild shark-toothed smile that he tossed over to Dazai.
“If you want to tag yourself a criminal, then come and get me!”
Special Technique: Tag the Devil
Description: Raising their sword into an opponent's line of sight, the user will shout 'tag!' Suddenly, bursting forth from their body, an exact replica of the user will charge straight for the opponent. Like the bunshin that it is, it will disappear on contact. Typically, the technique is used to confuse an opponent with the fake while the user him/herself circles around to the side and delivers a simultaneous attack.
Trigger: Vision/Sound - Sword/Shout