The old barber was cleaning and sanitising his tools when he heard the chime above his door ring. He turned to see a young teenager wearing a brown hooded coat enter his barbershop. The simple black shirt and grey track pants he wore underneath it hung on his wiry-thin frame like clothes on a hanger.
He removed his hood to reveal his long greasy black hair that was frayed at ends, tangled in places, looking like it hadn't been combed in ages.
"Take a seat," said the old barber.
The teenager removed his coat and threw it on a couch near the door before sitting down in the barber chair.
"So what are we doing today?"
"Haircut," said Takuma as he stared at himself in the mirror. "Take away as little length as you can, but make it presentable."
He’d kept his hair short his whole life because of the low maintenance, but it had grown a lot over the last six months and was becoming a bother. He would've cut it short again, but the long hair helped conceal his identity without looking suspicious.
The old barber looked and touched his hair before nodding.
"We can do that, but you'll have to pay upfront." Takuma looked up at the barber with a raised brow but it only made the old man shrug. “These are desperate times.” Takuma sighed before handing the asked price and then closed his eyes, allowing the barber to cast his magic on his hair. Even though it was a simple haircut and dye, he enjoyed the short half hour of someone taking care of him.
It was a pity that he couldn't completely let his guard down.
The old barber washed his hair and then proceeded to cut and style it. But as the barber was cutting his hair, he noticed the deep scars peeking out of Takuma's shirt and wondered how a young teenager received injuries like that. He looked at his face and was dumbstruck when he recognised it, looking at the wanted poster on the wall behind him through the mirror.
The face was more gaunt and the hair changed his look, but it was the same face—the person sitting in his chair was the criminal wanted by the shinobi.
"Keep cutting, old man."
The barber looked down at Takuma and noticed him looking up at him. The tired eyes from before were sharper than the pair of scissors in his hand.
"P-Please, I... I don't want trouble."
"Neither do I. The moment you're done with the cut, I'll leave. I already paid you for it, so don't make me repeat myself," Takuma said and then closed his eyes, making himself comfortable in the chair.
The barber cut the hair slowly to ensure that his trembling hands didn't make any mistake. It didn't make any difference that Takuma was trying to free the city because he was still a symbol of fear. He didn't mind and let the barber go at his own pace; it gave him more time to relax—he had turned the door sign to CLOSE when he entered without the barber noticing it.
"I'm done."
Takuma opened his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was straight, not greasy, and barely swept over his shoulders; he didn’t like the look, but that was because he wasn't a fan of long hair.
The barber had done a good job.
"Thank you," Takuma said as he headed to the door, but spoke again when he reached it. "I shouldn't need to say it, but don't tell anyone I was here. I don't mind if you do, but the shinobi will come and when they do, they'll take you away, interrogate you, might even torture you when you don't give them anything—which, let's admit, you won't because there’s nothing to tell.
"Take my advice and forget that I was here, or you'll end up like the mill factory workers; if you don't know about them, a lot of them haven't been able to come back to their family," He paused, "well, that’s mostly because their families were also taken away... so think about that before you do anything."
He didn't look back to gauge the barber's expression and flipped the door sign to OPEN as he left.
———
.
After getting a haircut, Takuma entered the factory base.
It had been more than a week since he had stepped foot in the abandoned factory. Initially, the plan was to use the factory base as the safe house to hold Aranai and Ryoya captive, but Anko rejected the idea because the majority of their gear was in the factory as well and if the Hidden Frost tracked him down while he was interrogating the two shinobi—they would lose all their gear.
Takuma sat down on the dirty couch for a couple minutes before opening a trunk to retrieve a set of water resistant explosive tags. There weren't many of them—only two dozen—because they were situational and standard explosive tags were already slightly water resistant. However, these tags would work even if they were completely submerged in water for about an hour.
He then retrieved his own personal gear before using makeup from a cosmetic bag to hide his dark circles and make himself look 'healthy'. He smiled and the makeup combined with his fresh cut made him look energetic and presentable. Moreover, he looked less like himself, which was always a plus in his situation.
He didn't stay for long and was out of the base in under an hour after changing into neat, but worn down clothes.
His destination was a banquet hall in the ultra affluent part of the city.
When Aranai told him that the jonin named Ebi handled everything, Takuma wondered what the other jonin were doing during their 'vacation'. So he pulled up the research that he had been doing since he’d arrived in Yu and found a big party held for no apparent reason.
However, the part that interested him was there were shinobi who were going to attend the party—one jonin, four chunin, and seven genin. He eventually reached the large, posh banquet hall and went around the back where he saw workers hurrying around doing their jobs, unloading stuff from carts, carrying carpets, flowers, fake pillars, and a dozen more things.
He scouted the area and spotted a person who was ordering people around and managing the commotion.
Takuma took a deep breath, put on a smile, and walked to that man.
"Excuse me," he said.
The man with salt and pepper hair dressed in a white shirt and black pants turned to look at Takuma. He wasn't in a good mood and looked annoyed to have been interrupted from doing his work.
"What?"
"Do you have a job? I'll do anything."
"No, there isn't. Now go away and don't waste my time."
The man turned away to walk away, but Takuma called out to him with a tone of rising desperation.
"I'll do a job for food." Takuma continued when the man turned to look at him. "You don't have to pay me if you feed me." It was a desperate man's offer who just wanted a place to work and was even willing to work for 'free'—and that was any manager's dream.
"Will you wash dishes?" asked the man.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"You'll be able to see your face in the reflection when I'm done with them," said Takuma.
"Good, then you're hired."
"Thank you," Takuma smiled.
———
.
The evening arrived and the guests began to roll in as the sky darkened. The banquet hall was shining like a jewel, casting its light to the sky above. The front of the banquet hall was filled with glitz and glamour with impeccably dressed men and women trying to outdo each other, holding the deep desire to display their affluence.
Among them were a dozen or so shinobi who were the centre of attention as they held the power among the guests. Most of them were genin, who had been brought by the jonin and chunin, but even then, the genin remained as the centre of attention because there were simply more of them. The affluent natives tried to curry favour with them because it was much easier to do so and the other shinobi could easily diminish their influence if they desired.
Takuma was stowed away in the back of the kitchen, away from the celebrations, and very genuinely washing dishes and cooking utensils, putting his back into scrubbing the grease off of the large woks and pans.
"Yeah, keep at it, you're doing good," said the man who had hired Takuma, who happened to be the manager.
"Thank you, sir!" Takuma grinned and scrubbed vigorously.
He took the rack of clean dishes to the front and observed the waiting staff as they came in with empty glasses and went out with full glasses to keep the guests liquored up. He couldn't see outside in the hall, but he had to confirm that the shinobi were here.
"Hey, are there really shinobi here?" he asked one of the waiters.
"Huh yeah, the last of them arrived a few minutes ago."
Before Takuma could ask more questions, the waiter rushed back outside. The manager saw Takuma and yelled at him to go back to his station. Takuma had more questions, but getting the confirmation about the shinobi's arrival was enough. He returned to his station and continued to wash the dishes for the next hour until the party was at its highest.
"I'm going to replace the clean water," Takuma said to the other dishwashers and dragged the huge water basin outside to the tap.
As the basin filled up, Takuma took out the stack of waterproof explosive tags and dropped them into it one at a time. When the basin was completely filled, Takuma weaved hand seals for the Water Clone Jutsu and the water rose, trapping the tags within the writhing mass as it formed a clone. Unlike Takuma, who was wearing a checkered shirt and pants, the clone wore the waiter's outfit.
"I know the answer, but I've to ask: are you sure?" the clone asked after he stepped outside of the basin.
"I fucking don't want to do it, but I'm choosing to," said Takuma, looking straight into his clone's eyes. There was no reason to make excuses to himself—he was more aware than anybody what he was about to do, and what would happen if he was successful.
He was a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf and even though he and his team had limited authority to operate in the country as part of the war effort, he was essentially an outsider and didn’t have the authority to operate on the same level as a Hidden Steam shinobi. He could kill a couple people here and there who had clearly colluded with the enemy—allowing him to dispose of someone like Gyon—but that was it—he didn’t have the power to be the judge, jury, and executioner in a foreign country.
“I guess we will have to live with it,” said the clone with a grim look. “What about Anko? She won’t support this… she’ll be furious,” said the clone. “You might lose her trust…”
"I know," he nodded.
He was operating alone from the start and had autonomy, but there was an implied limit to what all he could do. His actions affected all of his team and his autonomy was granted to him by Anko, the team leader, and all of his actions were her responsibility. His wins were hers, but simultaneously, if he did something wrong, she would be held responsible in addition to him.
"Sucks, doesn't it."
"Go now."
“We always can not do it—”
“Go!”
The clone walked into the building and Takuma stood there silently, staring at the little water left in the basin. He was glad he couldn't see his face in the turbulent water's surface... he didn't want to know what he looked like at that moment.
———
.
The clone entered the hall with a plate of food. The guests had all sat down for the ten course meal prepared by the best chef in the city. He had just swiped the plate of food from the counter and had no idea who it belonged to. Roaming along the edges, he kept within the shadows as the guests sat rapt, their attention fixed on a dance performance taking place.
The shinobi sat in the centre, close to the front, and were gathered in a tight cluster of tables alongside the most affluent residents of Yu. They enjoyed exquisite food and expensive drinks as they watched the performance. He spotted the jonin's table and took a moment to gather himself.
Because he was the one doing it, Takuma wouldn't have any memory of what was about to happen—that was both good and bad—and he himself wouldn't have to wait around to find what the consequences would feel like.
As he stepped out of the shadow, the clone stopped and looked at his stomach. It rippled as the edge of an explosive tag peeked out. The original didn't have the practice of creating clones with things floating inside—and even the most skilled water clone user would have difficulty keeping one with multiple foreign objects inside perfectly stable. He had to hurry.
He took the shortest path toward the jonin's table, and at the same time, used the chakra the original had given him to trigger all the explosive tags inside of him. Their detonation period was ten-seconds-long and he could feel the instability climbing as the tags neared detonation
He was two tables away from the jonin's table when the manager who had hired him stepped in front of him. He was dressed in a clean uniform and was frowning at him.
"What are you doing here?"
"Fuck off."
The manager stumbled when the clone pushed him away and desperately controlled himself to not crash into a guest's table.
The clone finally arrived at the jonin's table and stood a few inches away from the jonin, switching out the plate in front of him.
"Thank you," the jonin said as he glanced at him for a split-second and then returned to looking at the performance.
"Are you sure about that?" said the clone.
"Pardon? What was that?"
The jonin looked up at the clone having missed what the clone said but then looked at his glowing torso. He looked up at the clone with wide eyes, the horror only just beginning to dawn on his face. He immediately rose up to get away, but it was too late.
The clone whispered, "Vacation's over."
BOOM!
The two dozen heavy-duty explosive tags inside the clone's body exploded simultaneously and created a blast so intense it blew everything and anything near it across the room. The table, chairs, people, cutlery, food, decorations, floor tiles—everything—was hurled away from the sheer force created by the two dozen tags.
Not a single person in the hall room—the guests, staff, performers—was left unharmed. The people near the epicentre were ripped apart beyond any hope of recovery while those far from the splash zone sustained severe injuries.
When the noise of the explosion died... only screams filled with pain, fear, and horror remained.
———
.
In the same second, Takuma felt his clone die, the banquet hall was hit by severe tremors. All of the staff in the back screamed in fear when they felt the building shake. They would’ve thought it was a strong earthquake if not for the noise of the blast that scared everyone
He calmly got up and walked out of the building with the rest of the people who rushed as though their lives depended on it, pushing each other to be the first one out. And while they gawked at the building, he continued to walk and broke into a sprint when he was out of sight. He got away as fast as possible, not willing to risk coming into contact with any of the shinobi that would be at the location in a few minutes’ time. If he got caught, he would have a fate worse than death.
He eventually stopped behind in a back alley he wasn’t familiar with and leaned against a fence-wall. He had just massacred the city's elite to kill one jonin, a few chunin, and half a dozen genin. The enemy shinobi aside, he had killed the turncoats traitors who had betrayed their home and country—they were scum who deserved to die.
However… in doing so, he had sacrificed several innocent people who were simply in that banquet hall to earn a living for themselves and their families. They hadn’t done anything wrong. Takuma’s chest heaved as the consequences of actions hit him with full force. What had he done? Those people didn’t deserve to die. Not even someone from the Hidden Steam would be justified to kill them.
‘I killed a jonin.’
He had made the upcoming battle safer for the main forces which would most definitely save lives which would’ve been lost if that jonin was on the battlefield. A hundred thoughts populated his mind, trying to justify his actions so he could send away the horrendous feeling attacking his mind, body, and soul.
Takuma closed his eyes and suddenly all of the chaotic thoughts parted and a single memory took centrestage.
A tragedy of fire painted the scene as the screams and cried of innocent refugees filled the space. Men, women, elderly, and children, all begged and struggled for their lives as a team of shinobi razed the camp to the ground, massacring everyone without any mercy—all of it done in the name of sowing chaos in the heart of the enemy to gain an advantage.
The smiling face of a sweet little girl with a missing front tooth playing with her doll flashed past Takuma’s mind and he felt something inside him break. He felt something coming up and bent down as a thick rush of fluid hurled out and splashed on the wall, twice. A sharp winy stench filled the cool air.
He staggered, nauseous, and squatted in the middle of the street with his face buried in his tucked knees. Breathless sobs echoed in the dark and empty street for a minute before they abruptly ended.
Takuma got up with a blank slate of an expression with dull eyes. His body trembled that he stopped by clenching his fist to wrestle back control of his body from his emotions.
“I… k-killed a jonin,” he said to himself.
Even if the shinobi had somehow survived, which he doubted, one thing was for sure, when Yu was liberated, the power balance and social ladder of the city would go through a massive change...
...For he had plunged the city into chaos and from that dark night of chaos a bright future would emerge.
Four days remained until the main forces arrived at Yu.