| [Mar. 5th, 2014|02:53 am] |
Team Six showed up to the office in staggered intervals. Ryouma first, bloody-nosed and pale-faced, leaning on Katsuko’s narrow shoulder. Translocation still clearly didn’t agree with him. That was something to look into later, Raidou thought, when they had a scrap of spare time. Ryouma didn't need more reasons to face-plant on a battlefield, and losing his lunch from a sideways step through the universe wouldn't help him behind an ANBU mask, either.
Genma arrived next, panting lightly with one hand pressed to his bad side; a bag of steaming tea-cans swung from his other wrist. He was still faintly river-damp and rumpled, moving with a catch in his step. He sank down gratefully onto his usual chair. A moment later, the unhelpful training-field clone walked in and deposited the team’s various kit bags on the floor. It vanished with the quiet sound of disintegrating chakra.
Katsuko and Ryouma collapsed on the sofa, making the leather creak. Genma low-balled them a hot tea can each, and a handkerchief for Ryouma to staunch his nosebleed in.
Raidou stood in the center of the room. “The hell is Hatake—?” he began.
Chakra shivered faintly against the wall beside the door, the shinobi equivalent of quietly clearing your throat. A fourth ANBU-spark unfolded itself on his mental map.
Raidou glanced over and found the lean silver stretch of Kakashi propped against the wall like he’d always been there. “Stop hiding that, Hatake, it’s tattooed on you for a reason.”
“Captain,” Kakashi said, which Raidou noted wasn’t exactly a yes or no.
A third hot tea can skimmed over Raidou’s head. Kakashi caught it with a sleek wrist-flick and leaned back against the wall, steam pluming gently up between his hands. Raidou turned back and caught the last thrown can, nodding his thanks at Genma.
“Who are we killing?” Katsuko demanded, eagerness slicing like a scalpel through her voice. She had already stretched herself across the couch, maneuvering to take up as much real estate as possible without kicking Ryouma off.
“Traitors,” said Raidou.
Villages ran on loyalty. There was something about dropping that word down in front of blooded ninja that made even the level-headed ones, like Genma, sit up like hunting hounds.
“We have two broad targets,” Raidou continued. “Intel found solid proof of the major financial backers behind the Guardian coup. We’ve been given the Tsuto family.”
“I know that name,” Genma said, frowning.
“Me, too,” Ryouma said, muffled behind bloody cloth.
“You should,” Raidou said. “Heavy-hitting merchant importers and money lenders on the east coast. You’ve both done missions that way.”
Genma snapped his fingers. “Ibaragashi city.”
“And Tsurugahama Port,” Raidou said. “It’s a father and son affair. Father heads up the central business in Ibaragashi. Son handles the shipping and distribution out of Tsurugahama. Konoha wants them both.”
“You said ‘broad targets’,” Katsuko said.
“We’re sending a message,” Raidou said. “Both men and their families. We’re burning it all down.”
“Literally?” Genma said, senbon flicking a thoughtful curve from one side of his mouth to the other. “Is this a demolitions job, as well as assassination?”
Ryouma’s eyes narrowed, dark. He set the handkerchief down, listening. A rusty smear still marred his upper lip, but the nosebleed seemed to have ceased.
“The goal is shock and awe,” Raidou said. “Enough devastation to make the point clear, not so much damage there aren’t still bodies to find.” |
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