Open A Cure for the Itch <Open>

[Tsukinowa Shinjo]

The burning sensation rolling through Shinjo’s throat down to his gut made him want to puke. Yet, with every swallow, the screams that jarred the assassin from his sleep to the side of his bed to begin with slowly faded. He pulled the glass from his lips with a panting gasp as he felt the alcohol quickly begin to numb his body and mind until a cold shiver took him, threatening to trigger his lung disease. Placing the whiskey on the nightstand, Shin drew the covers around his shoulders and shuddered there on the side of the bed for a moment. A lit up billboard blinked multicolored lights through the cracks of his shuttered windows that danced with the swimming shadows of the room.

Shin had not been well. Even after his release from the mental ward his mind barely kept itself together. Medication did next to nothing, at least, nothing that wasn’t wholly experimental and the side-effects of those kept him from working as the shinobi he had sworn an oath to be. Only really high alcohol proof liquors did anything to numb the mental terror his mind besieged his conscious with, and even then it took him being in a near state of constant drunk in order to be any level of sociable; again terrible for his job. The following year after the war had been great for the country, but Shinjo saw little of it do good, at least in his eyes. The vehicles that were made for non-shinobi transport roared up and down his part of the city interrupting what little sleep he already barely clung to. The opening of Kumogakure into the country brought along it’s own level of new problems, new laws, and a governing body that handled most affairs with paper over sword. The deadly honed skills he had were needed ironically ever more than it had before as the war-torn country attempted to turn over a new leaf and control the wilds of their home. Places that had been left alone in the care of another government for hundreds of years.
The work was hard. People who had been living their lives a certain, albeit mostly unlawful, way, suddenly uprooted by the powerful hand of ANBU and their leader. Not a day went by that Shinjo wasn’t haunted by the screams of the people he constantly killed so that a ‘more civilized’ people could take over the lands. Part of his mind tried to assuage the woes with the facts that the people he killed, generally, were in fact bandits that raped and murdered whoever crossed their path; but not all. Not all.

An piece of paper slid under Shinjo’s door, the sound breaking the intent to return to sleep. His eyes turned to the single sheet with a malignant stare before deciding to stand and check it. The blankets slipped from his shoulders to allow the cold mountain air to strike it, triggering an asthma wheeze which rolled into a coughing fit as he stumbled in a very non-shinobi fashion across his apartment to pick the paper off the floor. Flopping down in a chair near his kitchen table he continued to wheeze lightly as Shinjo attempted control of his lungs before igniting the page with a surge of chakra from the thumb and index that held the bottom of the page. He cracked the page straight with a wrist flick and read the message that burned itself onto the blank page. Another assassination. Just as fast as he read it the paper burned down to ash.
“At least it’s fucking local today,” he muttered to the colorful darkness of his home.

Shin didn’t hesitate to gather his gear and donned his skin-tight ANBU garb before slipping casual clothing over it; he was awake now, after all. The assassin forewent the headband that marked his shinobi status and of course, the mask, because he wasn’t high enough rank for one of those. The swords and scrolls that held more swords stayed hung up in the closet. He had not used them in combat since being released from the mental ward, his hand always taking to a hard shake every time he tried to grasp the hilt of one. Instead he grabbed two vials of what was clearly poison, flipped one up into the sleeve of his white button down and popped the cork off the second to pour the liquids under his tongue. Almost instantly Shin felt the burning numb take him to quench out the last of those screaming voices in his head followed by a rush of near adrenaline. His lungs opened up, he panted a few times, felt a cramp double him over as he gripped the closet door frame to a point it began to creak and screamed before throwing his head back with a deep breath. With an exhale, Shin’s body language suddenly read casual as he righted himself, slipped on his shoes, and stepped out into the world.

The club he was supposed to be at was on up in the…‘dirtier’, parts of the Kumogakure. Despite the clean up the Raikage took pride for, there was always going to be ner’do’wells doing their thang, and this club was one of the few remaining overlooked places people went about doing said things. On the surface it was just a dance club with a decently stocked bar. Underneath it was a hot-bed of crime both organized and petty. People came here to party harder than was normally allowed and there was already more than a handful of targets ANBU was keeping an eye on. One of those said targets just happened to cross enough of a line that it was time to revoke his life subscription.
Getting in was the easy part. Cash, up front, about a 1000 yen and Shinjo slipped in and adjusted his tie to look like he had just got off work from an office. Like a bee he shot straight for the bar and slipped up on the stool to tap the bar, raise two fingers on his left hand, and grab the quickly filled shot-glass that was slid his way. No words were needed, mostly because it was impossible to speak over the volume of the music blaring in the background, but also because Shinjo was a bit of a regular and had a constantly opened tab he paid, without question, at the end of every month. Tossing the liquor to the back of his throat the assassin swallowed hard as he felt the poison instantly interacting with the other poison, sending a cold shiver down his spine and making his senses…fuzzy. His body was heightened and numb at the same time and he swore that the bass was cracking his brain, but without hesitation Shinjo raised up his hand again and another shot slid his way.

Now to just find his target….

 

[Koga Akane]

A hacking cough emerged from the bottom of Akane’s chest. She had recently been released from the hospital from her little accident. Little was an understatement as each bend of her torso came the creak and ache of her damaged ribs moving. She had kept her incident quiet from her mother. Even though she knew she wouldn’t give a damn about her daughter being in the hospital, all she cared about was a steady shipment of supplies leaving Kumo to Bear country to fuel the Tenouza militant groups. The slew of text messages that barraged her phone while she was out of commission was telling of its urgency. A few read out the same but one stood out.

“Meet a hooded man near a club in Susukino District. He’s wearing dark red. Inform him of current supplies being moved. In Person is more confidential.”

A defeated sigh passed those pink lips. Her fingers traced the bandages across her arms and neck. ‘The things I do for love…’ She rolled her eyes, slowly making her way towards another accursed club. Those damn things were a death sentence in her eyes now. If she saw any truly unfriendly folk or Monika’s goons she’d skip town. As she walked through the streets of Kumo that vision of the beautifully creepy woman in her dreams replayed like a broken record. Those eyes, her words, that… foreign power. Questions upon questions floated in her brain. The hopeful off-chance that she’d speak up and answer one kept her motivated. Though, if it was just a hallucination it was awfully prominent. “I just need to finish this supply drop then head south. I can’t afford to waste any more time…” Though a year had passed, every waking moment had been filled with shit to do by answering her mothers calls. Yet, there hadn’t been one time she checked up on her well-being. Akane often had to ask about her Mother which was met with one word answers then immediately back to business.

Love was something Akane subconsciously yearned for. The world had been cruel to her even if she displayed a happy and cheerful face. No, it couldn’t be a facade but a mechanism to cope with the trauma. Lost in thought she released she auto-piloted to the specified club her mother told her to go to. This one wasn’t as unruly and degenerate like the venue she got attacked at. Hell, the bouncer upfront didn’t even bat an eye when she handed him the entrance fee. Once she stepped foot inside the whole place had a different energy than the other club. Most person’s here kept to themselves or within the groups they came with. A few odd lookin’ fellas that looked like they belonged in an insane asylum alongside those who were burly enough to lift up a whole keg to drink themselves into a coma. Nevertheless Akane saw the hooded man appear from a back exit and sit alone at a table in the corner.

“That’s my guy.” A low murmur to herself. Calmly she slipped past the bar and the tables of the club towards the hooded man. Brown boots stopped at the table end while her hands rested on her hips that adorned her dark blue school uniform. “Ad Gloriam Deo.” Akane spoke to him, and without looking he responded. “Ipse est Deus noster.” Code phrases kept the smuggling business in check. Luckily for her this man was an ally.

“Look, the rest of the shipment is at the edge of the village common ground. It’s locked up in a bunker box with a cross on it. The place is disguised as an abandoned rental property.” Underneath the hood a wicked smile appeared on the informant's lips. “Excellent, House Koga never fails to produce results. Your family would be proud.” A shady laugh followed his words. “Cut the honeyed words. Doing this eats up my time.” Her arms folded underneath her bust. “The last I checked, those of low-born blood didn’t have much say in diplomatic matters. I’ll ignore your insolence this time.” He voiced to Akane, sucking her teeth at the matter. “Now go, I’ll be in touch with your House in a week.” Akane’s expression turned sour, “Like hell, you’ll pay me now!” A fist slammed on the table, shaking its plates and silverware. “Immature as ever.” He said slowly, from underneath the table a heavy boot rose up, kicking Akane in the lower ribs, causing her to fall over in agony. A loud cry escaped her as she clutched her ribs in desperation for the pain to subside. The man quickly stood, making his way towards the back exit.

[Mft]
[WC:779]
[Topic Entered]

 

[Tsukinowa Shinjo]

Three shots, four shots. Six Shots, Seven. Ten Shots…probably.

Shinjo quickly lost count of the whiskey that kept rolling his way until he felt the world begin to spin. His forehead, coated in cold seat, dropped against the bar as he groaned with a smile.
“You never cease to amaze me, Shin. Here at least twice a week and yet you drink whiskey like a fish breathes water. How are you still alive?”
“Goodth, question muh good mang,” the shinobi slurred with a laugh. Why did he come here anyways? He had good bottle of whiskey at home and music that wasn’t trying to kill him there. The assassin closed his eyes for a moment to try and refocus through the choppy ocean that had become his brain.

Oh, yeah, he realized suddenly. It was a direct order to kill some dude.

Which would explain the cold glass vial against his arm in the sleeve of shirt. Shinjo’s eyes opened back up to take a quick gaze around the room. Chakra filled his vision orbs to break past the drunk fog and get a defining feature of everyone’s face that he could see. Nothing looked like anyone the paper described until he happened to notice a girl who seemed out of place walk towards the back near an exit. She didn’t order a drink, she didn’t hit the dance floor, just straight back and to the target; pretty sus. She seemed to be talking to the guy before slamming her fist on the table for, whatever reason, which was met with a swift kick in the ribs. She dropped really quick, meaning she was just a civilian or was already injured, and that guy was stronger than the average Joe. A quick math check told him that since 90% of the people ANBU had an eye on here were just regular citizens dabbling in crime, 10% were actual shinobi, and the guy he was told to kill had shinobi training, that dude had to be the one he was sent after; or at least so he hoped. It was rare for Shinjo’s bad habits to cause a botch in an assassination, but it had happened before.
“T-tab me out, I’m gonna go outh, outh…out, the back…”
“Whatever Shin,” the bartender said as he started to add up the shots on a register, print the page, and store it in a locked drawer. By the time he finished this task, despite how drunk the AiT was, Shinjo was gone, already through the crowd and looking down at Akane. He had questions but was too drunk to reasonably line them up in his head to actually ask what the relationship was between her and the guy who raised a leg into the girl’s ribcage.
“You know,” he did finally gather his wits enough to say, “If that guy isth your pimp…it’dth just be easier to report ‘em to the shinobi instead of gettin’ all fiery,” the shinobi finished with a wry laugh as he stumbled out the exit and into the same alley her contact went through. The moment he stepped out and fell against the cold wall of the alleyway, he moved his hands through a couple of seals and increased his metabolism to loosen up his drunk until it was manageable enough to work with, but not enough to kill his strong buzz. Shaking his head at the sudden sobriety and resisting the urge to go back in for another shot, the assassin began to shadow his mark, waiting for the right opportunity.

Poison, was his weapon of choice. The blood that flowed through him was cousins to a clan known as the Yamanaka, and it was a well hidden secret that he had only found out about a couple years ago. In the time following the war and his release from the mental ward the slayer of men had experimented heavily with poisons and, for reasons relating to a death wish, had tried out a great number of them on himself. It was through this method of testing that Shinjo found his natural resistance to poisons that would normally kill a man without second thought, and how to mix the ingredients he used to eventually create new poisons like the one that opened his lungs up to fight his asthma - and the costs they came with. The one up his sleeve was a specialty for solo-kill missions. All he needed was to coat a weapon in it and produce a small scratch on his target. It was a slow acting compound that first caused a boost in body regeneration, to heal the scratch, and then after a few hours would make the target’s organs fail one-by-one through that same hyper regeneration as it turned cancerous, until eventually death clutched them tightly in her embrace. Most of his targets died quickly from the pain of the first organ failure, but he had seen some last a whole two days before dying of heart failure; those were usually chakra talented.

Shinjo kept a good distance away from the man, just barely in eye shot, as he concentrated chakra into his eyes to unleash his dojutsu. A large panther like creature slowly manifested from the shadows to his side, prowling along side its master. The assassin reached down to pet the creature, plucking from it a hair that became a senbon before flicking his wrist eject the vial of poison from his sleeve. Shin shoved the chakra needle through the cork, the tip absorbing the fluid like a magic needle before withdrawing the weapon and hiding the vial again. With poisoned weapon in hand the assassin followed his target until the man neared an abandoned apartment complex.
By this time he was very nearly sober and something began to nag in the back of his mind. Normally the targets he was sent to kill would return towards a den of thieves or their hideouts, but Shin knew for a fact that apartment building was so run down that even the homeless avoided it. Instead of walking directly inside, the man seemed to walk around towards the back which only further increased his curiosity. With weapon out, the shinobi channeled a little chakra into his feet to get to the top of a nearby building and keep an eye on the man. He was slated for death anyways, no harm in seeing what he could possibly be up to in a super condemned building that would probably fall apart with a strong enough breeze.

[MFT]

 

[Koga Akane]

The kick to her ribs sent a jolt of pain throughout her body, nearly rendering the red haired girl useless. Only to cry on the floor in immense pain while out of the corner of her eye she watches the man escape out of the back door. To add insult to injury some wild haired punk leaned over her and insulted her further by claiming she was the man's whore. If she were barely functional she’d send that wonky haired boy flying into next week. After a moment of pain it began to subside as her hands that clutched her ribs performed basic healing jutsu to dull and heal the pain in her ribs. No other patrons helped her get up, it was better that way too in case someone wanted to hang their nice gesture over her head in a futile attempt at black mail. She rose to her feet and followed the man out of the back door and into the alley.

“There’s only one place a snake like that is going to go. I’ll hang him from his ankles when I’m done with him.” Akane spoke, cursing the man to hell and beyond. To insult her had already pushed her past reason but then to insult her House of origin, a punishment had to transpire. Through the pain of each step Akane moved through the streets to the locale where the supply shipment was stashed. She needed to get there as soon as possible, there was a high probability that the bastard would see the supplies and drool on the stop. All those goods were handed over to his respective House and not paid to her. Her Mother would kill her instead, or worse… her father. Akane sucked her teeth as they gritted through the pain.

The Hooded Man checked over his shoulders towards a high rise building, but nothing was there. The building had been renovated ever since the Raikage’s now low-income housing plan had been signed. Unfortunately security for the building had no existence here but the building seemed to radiate a bad energy. Something demonic that made even the homeless avoid such a place. Shinobi and criminals weren’t cowards however. This made it easy to have hideouts with secret entrances. The man walked around the building towards the back where a metal security door stood. Without hesitation his index and middle fingers rose to his lips. His eyes brusted opened and a shockwave of power surged through the air somehow unlocking the door. Upon his entrance the black void of the building refused to allow light within it, the occasional windows even filled the room with a faint touch of light but was quickly taken away by the open space of the renovated rental property.

“Filthy shit-hole.” He said as he shook his head side to side. He peered over his shoulder yet again. The sensation of another presence watching him felt pressed on the back of his neck. His shoulder rolled to shake the sensation. “Probably just that stupid Koga brat.” He laughed, making his way through the building to a stairwell that led into the basement. It took only a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the pitch black darkness that led to the basement from the stairwell. The door opened and within the room were shipping crates that varied from 4 by 10 feet in length and width to 10 by 10, scattered throughout the basement. A hand dug into his pocket to retrieve a lighter and a hand rolled cigarette. A cigarette flipped into his pressed lips and with a light he took a deep drag. A long exhale ensued as he used the lighter to scour the basement for a trunk. In the back end of the room he noticed a wall of trunks each with a cross marked on the front of them. “Jackpot.” He explained, moving over to the trunks and kicking one open. Revealing a large supply of ninja tools, scrolls and the occasional medical supply that was non perishable. “Heh, House Koga doesn’t disappoint.” His hairy brow quickly rose into the air as his head snapped once more over his shoulder. “Who’s there?!” He demanded. If it were House Koga they’d surely pay their price once again.

[WC:713]
[MFT]

 

[Tsukinowa Shinjo]

“Behind the building…” the assassin mumbled to himself as he watched the target wrap around, “Hmm…”

Shinjo wanted some answers. Not because he needed them, per-say, because nearly all targets he was sent after were considered ‘snake heads’; people whom if lost would heavily damage anything they were attached to. So, simply killing the man and going back home was totally a tempting option. Yet, like the shadowy cats he commanded, the assassin was a curious person who often needed to know when his mind actually picked up on something. This guy was after something but…what? Why did ANBU want him dead or were they just going on a hunch? A peon like himself rarely got more beyond those orders than just a picture, place, and sometimes a method, (if they wanted to send a message). This guy was just slated for a private death and to make it seem as common as possible. With the area they were in, he could risk a little more….personal, confrontation.

Shin slid down the side of the building back to the street on the opposite side from where he ran up, and quickly darted across the street to find the open metal door. Slipping inside and behind a crate he began to understand a few things. This building was under renovations as per the Raikage’s infrastructure plans but it looked like it was going slow. Some of the crates of building supplies, clearly marked, looked like they had been here awhile. Was this that one building where a couple of workers had gone missing or died with no leads? It’d at least explain why the hair on the back of his neck stood on end the moment he crossed the threshold into the building. The assassin had never seen a ghost himself, but knew full well that if there had been a full on war versus demons a few years back, then all bets were off concerning the supernatural. The sound of his target’s lighter clicking made Shin jump a little, due to that train of thought as his eyes narrowed to look in his direction. With the trained muscles of a professional, the killer lifted himself on his toes and slipped around the boxes without a sound until he had a clear view of where this guy was going from his side. When he found the box, one that on a close look was marked different from the rest, the target’s choice of words just opened more questions.

Who the hell was House Koga? There wasn’t any nobles he could think of that ran by that surname…not that Shinjo was an expert on nobility after his one and only run in with that one family. Screams and the sound of burning wood began to echo louder and louder from the back of his head as Shinjo felt his mind slipping once again with sobriety rearing her ugly face. It was only the paranoid call of the target that snapped the assassin from fully slipping back into the depth of his sins. Was the call to him? No, he was to the dude’s side, not behind him. Was someone else shadowing then? It couldn’t be a second assassin to do the same job. Miro was a ruthless boss capable of running a tight ship that rarely failed, but she didn’t have such a case of mircomanagitis to send two people to the same hit. Even knowing Shinjo’s problems with alcohol there was something of a mix of faith and threats that kept the assassin in line enough to rarely fail; that and the whole Branch was already spread thin as it was.

Unable to get that weird feeling out of his gut, Shin turn his dojutsu to create three black cats from his chakra that he spread out in strategic locations to give him a decent sized battlefield, if it came to that, and hunkered down to wait with the poisoned needle still in his hand. If there wasn’t anyone he’d confront the guy directly, but if someone else showed up to the party he wanted to make sure who side they aligned with before making his move. Haste made waste, after all.

 

[Koga Akane]

Those heavy breaths flowed from Akane’s chest with each staggered movement. She cursed herself to no end then eventually cursed the bastard for kicking her in her damaged ribs. The world around her quickly turned a once happy-go-lucky girl into an angry teen. Spun with threads of malice given by those of Kumogakure and Tenouza. It sickened her to her core to wallow in self-pity, not once has she felt like herself after she moved here with her mother to do covert ops. Oranges tresses shook side to side as the voice in her head played like a broken record she tried to shake away. Her brown hues dulled to matte. Her wandering mind focused on getting her fair share of the supply trade back into her pockets. “Once I get this money I’m standing up to… my Mother…” The fuck was she on about. She lacked confidence in her words, how would her Mother respect her if she hadn’t built courage to respect herself.

Soon after her mental war she approached the building she stored the goods at. As she faced the building head on she walked towards the front entrances and up the few steps to the front entrance. Instead of a sneaky approach she crept to the right towards a cracked open window. She had it jammed open from past storage runs with scraps of dark red cloth. From what she gathered the rest of the building had been bolted and chained from the inside. Akane unjammed the window and crept inside but from the corner of her eye she noticed something strange. A black blur stood in the corner of the room. It was small and took the shape of… how did a cat get in here? Akane shrugged, turning her view to look for the stairwell towards the basement. Her footsteps weren’t as silent as they should’ve but she used it to her advantage. Her hands clasped together to create a wind clone, which in turn performed a jutsu to transform itself to look like her. In tandem both Akane’s moved towards the basement door only to find that the door had swung open. ‘That fucker must be here…’ The clone and Akane pressed themselves on opposite sides of the door as they listened out for any signs of commotion. They were in luck, light footsteps proceeded down into the darkness of the basement.

At the bottom steps those brown hues noticed the luminance of a lighter around a corner. Subtly an Akane transformed herself into her polearm, grasping it tightly Akane responded. “Who do you think you bastard?” She called out as she turned the corner. Her confident demeanor nearly faded at the sight of a small cat in the corner of her eye. Withholding the intense urge to blow everything and yell ‘Kitty!’ and rush over to pet it. Her brown hues glared at the hooded man, “I’ve had a bad day and you made it worse… This is a lovely day to catch fades.” The hooded man laughed, “Think you can even best me. I’ll put Koga dirt in its place.” As his final words slipped past his mouth Akane launched her polearm towards him. The spear tip glimmered in the faint light of the room but with sly movement the hooded man shifted his body to fully avoid the spear. The spear flew past him, driving itself into the supply bin. The man let out a boisterous guffaw and bottled towards Akane. In one fell swoop he grappled her, like a snake he got her into a dangerous chokehold.

“I don’t carry this light for cigarettes you disgrace.” His smile was wicked as he opened his mouth to let his tongue unroll. On it was a house sigil branded on it. With the lighter in one hand he brought it up to Akane’s face. Her eyes widened in fear as she continually struggled to break free. “I’ll show you why the Moyasu House is superior.” With a deep breath the sigil on his tongue brightened into a bright red and with the lighter at Akane’s face it quickly turned into a burst of flames. From the depths of her guts a horrified scream of agony erupted from her. Filling the room with a haunting scream as the orange haired vixen was horribly burned.

[mft]
[WC: 721]
[Part 1 of Ability RP for Weapon Attunment/Weapon Mastery]

 

[Tsukinowa Shinjo]

Shinjo didn’t have to wait long.

The girl that had decided to take a good leg to the ribs wasn’t done with the assassin’s target. Synapses in Shin’s brain connected the girl to this House Koga with her timely entrance and his heart went out to a bunch of nobles with such a rebellious daughter. Yet there was still a mystery here; why? What was this trade of, what he could only assume were supplies, for anyways? Who was the mysterious target he was put out to hit and his connection with something as audacious as a “House”? The only places he heard that term being used was with noble clans or incredibly rich families.

The AiT didn’t get a lot of time to ponder it though as the Koga girl decided it was time to pay back the man with extreme violence. Shin watched with trained eyes as the girl launched a spear attack that, sadly, missed. The attack in of itself however spoke a lot to the assassin as he noted it wasn’t just some amateur yeeting a spear, but was done with proper feet placement, lunge, and a near unwavering arm; all signs of combat training.
“The story deepens,” Shin whispered to himself hoping to see more, but the girl’s opponent wasn’t someone easily trifled with. He dodged the attack with a quick sidestep, made a weird sound that some would call a mocking laugh before snaking around the Koga girl with trained speed . With his arms locked around her head his tongue unrolled to reveal a symbol Shin didn’t recognize, nor would it matter really, as when he set his opponent on fire, the assassin’s PTSD triggered.

The smell of burning flesh and hair, the high-pitched screams, and heat brushed past Shinjo’s senses triggering the madness in his brain. The reaction always followed into two different paths: either Shin dropped down to the ground in a curled up ball of sobbing mess, or he became unrealistically violent; luckily for Akane, perhaps, it would be the latter this night.
The poisoned needle dropped from between the assassin’s fingers as he lunged himself over the boxes he had been hiding behind and darted towards the duo tangled in a dangerous fight already. His breath heaved in a mix of terror and excitement as his blank eyes spelled out the murder his hands reached up to commit. The assassin let out a scream of madness that echoed through the building as his sudden presence took the target by surprise. On trained reflex he grabbed the hand holding the lighter and shoved it into the Moyasu man’s mouth before uppercutting his jaw shut to get him to release the Koga girl.

Now, normally, a trained shinobi would have done something to help put out the fire that Akane was feeling on her face after freeing her from the headlock, but being in the wilds of a combat based mental break she would have to fend for herself as her savior was in full murder mode. Shin held his palm up and one of the cats leaped from its hidden place to land into his hand and become a basic carpenter’s tool: a hammer. With cries and swears of fury, Shinjo gripped the hammer and began an ungodly assault on his opponent as blood splattered everywhere with each swear-filled strike to his target’s face and neck.
“This didn’t have to happen! This is your fault! This is all your fault, why did you have to side with Tenouza?! Why?! I trusted you!” the assassin screamed in a trill voice that became more manic with each passing word, “We were going to get married! See the world! Why did it have to be you!?”

 

[Koga Akane]

It all happened so quickly. The sparks from the lighter catching her eye to the eruption of violent flames. The sizzling burn of her skin was blotching and burning and everything went blank. Or so it seemed. As Akane laid on the floor coated in orange flames a hidden shadow saved her from a truly dark future. The reckless and violent crunches of a hammer sent a chill down her spine. The hooded man screamed violently as he watched a hammer rise up into the air a final time. Next thing he saw was the abyssal darkness of death. However, that didn’t stop the new figure from continuously caving the man's skull in. Each strike had blood and bile spurt in every direction. The scene had been taken to greater lengths then Akane could imagine but what was worse was what the shadow said.

Thankfully the ninja within Kumo weren’t completely talentless. Her time within this shit village had trained her in the art of transformation. Impaled into the supply bin where the hooded man once stood, the metal fishing spear trembled. The ability to control her chakra was still shaky but what she feared most was that psychopath now. That hatred for Tenouza radiated off him like the energy from the sun. If she were to appear, would she face the same fate as the hooded man. In the next second the burned Akane poofed into a cloud of smoke and the clang of her spear hitting the ground echoed in the basement. In the same moment Akane fell onto the ground, pressed back against the supply crate, holding her ribs.

Even as she appeared her eyes averted their gaze from the grotesque sight of the violent shadow painting the floor red. ‘He can’t know I’m Tenouza… He’s going to question me… what am I goin’ to do…’ Frightened her voice shakily spoke out to him. “He’s dead already…” Reluctant to make even a sound. Akane wanted nothing more than to disappear or for the shadow to fade into the darkness. Her voice was low in hope he didn’t hear her. Her hand shifted to her mouth, holding back the urge to puke from the nauseating sound of bones crunching.

 

[Tsukinowa Shinjo]

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The sound repeated over and over as the assassin of ANBU drove his mentally damaged attack into the face of the Tenouzan. His pupils were pinpoints of rage and his vision was blurred from the blood splatter on his face mixing with the sweat that began to pour down his face from the exertion. The only thing running through the shinobi’s mind was the absolute need to stomp it out. What was it, though? The answer eluded him, but the reality was in his past. His parents, his god-parents, his unrelenting sensei, the shinobi buisness in general; all of it broke him down to a point of near betrayal. When he went to make that move against Kumo only to find out he had already been tricked it shattered everything. The pieces of his mind were something he barely had put back together by the time he was finally released from the mental institute, and they quickly fell apart. His need to dull the pain of those shattered fragments via drugs and alcohol did nothing to help them stay together. So down the hammer came against the man who aligned himself with those that had tricked him. Over, over, and over again.

Until the head of his weapon struck the concrete floor beneath them, and a soft voice affirming his kill broke through.

The jar of metal striking stone sent a painful shock up Shinjo’s arm and snapped him back from his hell. He sat there straddling the corpse of his opponent breathing heavy as the realization of what he had done washed over him. The weapon slowly melted back into shadows that vanished as his chakra control wavered and bloodied hands cupped his face. The man sobbed as tears of shame, confusion, and self hate burned in his eyes against the mixed blood splattered against them. Shin curled his fingers into fists and breathed deeply as he dug the knuckles into his eye-sockets to try and suppress the murderous urges that flowed through him.
They were a witness, those urges told him, they saw what he had done.

ANBU was all about murder, but it was more like a controlled burn. Psychopaths were welcomed, but you had to follow orders and not just straight brutalize a target. The location was bad, the situation was bad, and Shin knew that he was being closely monitored by his peers; let alone a witness. The last thing he wanted was to be stuffed back into that padded room with little more than his thoughts and whatever new experimental drugs they wanted to try out to keep him company. Logically, it would just be best to kill the witness, burn the entire place down, and plant it all on some local drunk with a temper; there were more than a few that could fit the bill. Yet instead, Shinjo slowly gathered his feet beneath him and turned away from where the voice echoed, to go instead investigate the crate. With a swift kick he removed the lid and peered down at all the supplies. Weapons, scrolls, military rations. It was a supply cache. Shinjo’s mind was rattled, but he could still do basic math, and realized very fast that the person that had managed to break his murder trance had gathered these supplies. For Tenouza’s remaining sad little pockets of resistance that still crawled around his country like cockroaches.

Shin could feel the rage picking back up, and his breathing started to quicken, but the assassin then gripped his right wrist suddenly with his left and a sickening crack filled the room’s silent air; he broke it.
“Leave, quickly. While I am still in my own mind, get out.”
He had no intentions of just letting her go, but he could not murder again. She would hopefully stay quiet about his sin, if he stayed quiet about hers. The crate of supplies, though, changed the scene of his crime, and he could pin the entire thing as a fight that forced him to brutally kill the target. He’d leave the evidence as it was, use it to help leverage his situation, and put pressure on the spy to keep her from gathering more supplies so easily. Eventually, he’d have to deal with the girl, but right now he was more concerned about retaining what little freedom he still had.

[So sorry this took so long to get out. I've had this in my head for weeks now. Brain finally let me get it out.]