Defend the Bathhouse

mission:

The squat and mustached man squirms in his big chair behind his office desk, the person in front of him was not who he expected. 

After his brother had threatened him at a family dinner, the mustached man, the owner of a lavish and luxurious bathhouse near Sunagakure's Grove, had posted a request to the shinobi of the sand village, per his wife's concerns. The squat owner didn't expect anything to come of his brother's actions at the dinner, more because he believed his brother was just drunk when he had said he would kill him for his business. Such things were common in the owner's family, the nature of such bonds mixed with money leading to jealousy and envy. Truth be told, he couldn't blame his brother for lashing out at him during the dinner, his business, a smattering of hookah lounges, paled in comparison to the sea-blue tiled, white-marble-pillared elegance of his bathhouse. Really, the reason he posted the mission was to calm his loving wife's worries. And, to fulfill a slight dream he's had since he was a kid. 

Because of the nature of his family and his business, he's had no reason to interact with any shinobi of Sunagakure. The only things he knew about the ninja were the small glimpses he would have of them jumping between the rooftops of the village. Such people always fascinated the mustached owner, he always questioned how they could do such amazing feats, and always wished to ask them of their use of "chakra". So, when the squat man went to the kazekage's office to post his request for a guard, he expected a gennin or chuunin to come by. He imagined the conversations they would have, and the questions he would ask played in his mind the subsequent days after posting his request. When his wife came into the back office of his bathhouse today, with a look of excitement and security, the owner knew today was the day he would live his dream. As he heard steps outside his door, he lit a cigar, placed his feet up on his desk, and relaxed in his big chair, to appear like a man in power in front of a shinobi of the Kazekage's forces. But, when the door opened, his bravado left, and the squat, mustached owner felt very small in his big chair.

Angling himself through the door way, stepping under its frame, and wearing a flower-patterned kimono over his flak-jacket, was the immense form of Cliff-Splitter, a shinobi responsible for destroying a sizeable portion of the grove a month prior. In fact, the owner had been in the bathhouse when the shinobi-made quake occurred. He even had a "front-row-view" of the destruction created the white-ash-haired jounin-demoted-to-chuunin. 

As the benevolent smiling shinobi walked up to the small chair in front of his desk, the sights and sounds of his chakra-made-catastrophe play back in the squat man's mind. And, as the white-ash-haired shinobi made the chair squeak from his mass, the questions the mustached owner had about a shinobi's power slips his mind. Cliff-Splitter speaks, the warm-tone of his basso voices leaves the owner speechless. 

"Greetings, Mr. Nakimura, I am the shinobi charged with protecting you during this dangerous time. I am fully equipped to protect you, your family, and your assets with the discretion of a shinobi of Sunagakure. If you wish, I can explain to you my skills, to do away with any doubt you may have in your mind, to reassure you and make the next few hours, or days, as relaxing as possible for you. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask."

A wide smile spread over the face of the white-ash-haired, flower-patterned-kimono-wearing Sarutobi, he awaits an excited response from the squat owner. When fearful eyes, nervous squirming, and trembling lips anwer him, the kind but intimidating Raleth recognizes the look on his client's eyes. It was a look he'd been getting a lot recently, one that was understandable, if exasperating to see: the look of one who has heard of the shinobi known as Cliff-Splitter. And this has yet to be a good thing for Raleth Sarutobi. 

The nickname, originating from when he punched a mountain's peak in half in his quest to repair the grove, was something that did not bother the aged shinobi. It was the connotation that came with it that proved troubling, as everyone who knew it, or seemed to know it, would equate the moniker with wanton destruction. Which, was not untrue. Faced with yet another person who feared him, the white-ash-haired Sarutobi stoned his face, masking his feelings. Internally, he hangs his head in shame.

Not again...

Faced with a situation caused by his own carelessness, Raleth resolves to ease the tension between him and his client, and makes the first step toward clearing his destructive name. He explains the plan he came up with on his way from the Spire to the Bathhouse.

"Is there a place you and your wife could hold out for a few days, without letting anyone know? Perhaps a secondary home, or maybe a hotel? Ideally, this would make whomever wants to harm you think you are still acting on your normal routine, and their ambush would be adjusted based on your movements. What's your day to day schedule like, are you a man who works? Do you tend to stay in the bathhouse for most of the week?"

A silent nod from the mustached owner answers this question.

"Good that makes it easier. Please, take you and your family right away, don't even let your workers know your whereabouts. If you do this now, your safety is assured."

Raleth can see the question flash behind the owners eyes, the sudden grimace of worry betrays the squat man's thoughts, Raleth answers it before the owner can form the words to ask it.

"Your bathhouse will be left in pristine condition, this is a guarantee from the Shadow of the Sand to you. You will be compensated for any and all damages to your property in the events of the operation," Raleth quickly speaks to placate the flaring concern in his client. "but do not worry, such things will not happen. Please, get your affairs in order, and leave promptly. You'll be notified when the operation is done."

Raleth tries to give his client a reassuring smile, the pale look on his faces tells him that the mustached owner is passed that point. The owner, whose been trying to find something to say to the dangerous shinobi in front of him, is still struck dumb by the looming size of Cliff-Splitter. Only able to muster a silent nod in agreement, he lets out an exasperated sigh. He quickly thinks on the places he could go to, and settles on a nice hotel across the village. He hadn't had a vacation from his bathhouse in years, and the thought of spending alone time with his wife comforted him in this stressful situation. He leaves his office, muttering "do as you see fit", to Cliff-Splitter, numb by the realization that, when this operation is done, he may not have a bathhouse anymore.

Left alone in the office of his client, Raleth Sarutobi stands from the small chair in front of the desk. He walks to the big chair and sits down, putting his elbows on the desk and his hands to his head. His stone face breaks, the internal shame he felt becomes a cloud that broods over his head.

That could of gone better

He fans away the thought, and shakes away the shame. His mind wanders to the question in front of him. How best to accomplish this mission? Dispatching the assassins or the enforcer would be the easy part, but could he do more to ensure the safety of his client? He relaxes in the big chair of the bathhouse owner and places his hands behind his head. He closes his eyes and breaths in. He calms his heart and centers his mind. He meditates, knowing the solution will come in time. 

[[1354]]

The sun sets over the day, the moon rises over Sunagakure, splashing its lush Grove with shimmering moonlight. The silver-light streams over a pristine bathhouse, the words Hot's Springs of the Desert glow in bright, neon-pink, on the white-stone face of the building. Engraved impressions, of branches, leaves, and petals spread around the bathhouse like vines, giving one the idea that it was grown from the greenery of the Grove. 

Inside its blue-tiled halls, clients and customers prepare themselves to exit the soothing waters and steams of the Hot Springs. Towels wrap around their bodies, steam and heat coil around their forms, conversations made throughout the day continue to the night. Business deals are made, people meet in interesting ways. Nights continue as days end, those who have decided to spend their time relaxing in a bathhouse leave to go home, to unprune themselves, and prepare for the activities of tomorrow. As the last customer leaves, the bath workers prepare for their closing procedures.

Fountains are stopped, tubs are drained, cleaning supplies are brought from back closets. Work place grumbling, after-night talk, takes place at its usual time. The front attendants swap their stories of creepy customers, the cleaners complain about the mess left by last-minute clients. The work gets done at its usual pace, the mustached-owner walks out of his office: surveying the place he built with his hands. His squat presence makes others stiffen, they move with urgency and motivation. The owner grabs a broom, and begins sweeping the floor: the final task needed to close out the bathhouse. The other workers are unsurprised, this task was normally completed by the mustached man. He dismisses them all as their jobs get done, he wishes them well as they leave for their homes. Left alone, sweeping the blue tiled halls and dusting the white-marble pillars, he loses himself in the zen of his work. 

A curious sound from the front of the bathhouse, the tell-tale ring of the customers walking into his business, makes the mustached owner stop his sweeping. He looks away from his work and cranes his head toward the entrance. What he sees makes visible worry cross over his face.

A group of five gentleman, he hesitated to think of them as thugs, pushed through the door, each of them brandishing crude weapons, clubs, blades, chains, and brass knuckles. Dressed in combat-leathers with their collars popped, they gave off a vicious and volatile presence. Their leader, a man with a snake-tattoo on his face, flashes a dagger dripping with a sickening glow and a serpent's smile. He speaks, his crass voice slithers off the blue-bathhouse tile.

"Tsu-Tsu Nakimura right? You've got a fine bathhouse here, ya know?" says the man with a snake tattooed on his face. His coterie, the other four thugs, walks around the bathhouse, and begin to surround the mustached owner. The squat man, Tsu-Tsu, rests the broom on a marble pillar, and addresses the five men who've come into his bathhouse.

"Welcome to the Hot Springs of the Desert gentleman. Unfortunately, we are closed for the night. If you wish, I can pencil you in for first thing tomorrow morning, I could even-" the sound of porcelain being smashed cuts off Tsu-Tsu. He turns, and sees that the thug with the club has smashed one of his vases, a blue piece of porcelain decorated by white flowers. He steels his expression, he understands the situation that he's in. He turns back to the tattoed-face of the leader, that violet-dripping dagger comes close to him.

"Whoops, my mistake Tsu-Tsu. See, my buddy there is just clumsy, can never take him anywhere. Now, he didn't mean to break ya fine vase. Right Tsubami? It was an accident??"

The thug with the club, a bald and rough faced man, almost spits his words out, his eyes burning into Tsu-Tsu.

"Yeah, was an accident. My hand slipped, see?"

As if to demonstrate how it was an accident, the thug named Tsubami's hand "slips", and his club slams into a glass table, shattering it to pieces.

"Ah, my mistake Batsbami, my hand slipped again!"

The leader, revealed to be Batsbami, flashes his serpent smile as he gets close to Tsu-Tsu, he places his knife near the mustached owner's neck.

"See? He's just clumsy, Tsu-Tsu. Now, if you would, you're gonna need to come with us. Got a 'relation' who wants to speak to you, about a possible change in management."


Batsbami nicks the squat mans cheek with his knife, a burning sensation spreads over Tsu-Tsu-'s face. The blue-tiled halls blend into the white-marble pillars, the entire bathhouse begins to spin. The four other thugs surround the squat man, and begin to ties his hands behind him with a rope. Though Tsu-Tsu would normally respond and protest, he finds that he cannot form any words, his tongue feels heavy and fat in his mouth. Consciousness begins to fade, the snake-smile of Batsbami flashes before his eyes.

"There you go Tsu-Tsu, glad you can agree to accompany us. Oh don't worry, we'll take good care of you."

His crass voice fades into nothingness, the poison tipped knife lulls Tsu-Tsu.

The drug did its job, the bathhouse owner was knocked out within seconds, herding him out of the building and onto the streets of sunagakure was easy. Because of the nature of the drug, no one who happened to be passing by would notice anything strange, they would merely see a bunch of men walking toward the seedier parts of the village. The ropes were more of a precaution, in case the dosage wasn't enough to knock the owner out. But, the man who hired Batsbami and his brothers had gifted them the drug to knock out Tsu-Tsu, and as such the man with the snake-tattoo felt confident that the job would go easy. When he had heard that the bathhouse owner had visited the Spire, he was worried he would have to deal with a shinobi. Though, Batsbami felt confident that he could have handled any gennin or chuunin from sunagakure. And, even if wasn't strong enough, his poison tipped weapons would be enough to even out any difference in power. Honestly, it was too easy. 

As Batsbami opens a ramshackle door to the designated safe-house, he lets out a sigh of relief. He yells, with the confidence of one who has made money today.

"Yo, Tsu-Tsen! We have your brother, where's our payment?"

From the shadows of the safehouse, the tall and lean Tsu-Tsen steps out. The familial resemblance between him and Tsu-Tsu is obvious, though Tsu-Tsen is much taller. And, if one were to be objective, more handsome. Though, this did nothing to make the disposition of the brother of the bathhouse owner better. If anything, this made it worse, and as such he moved and spoke with a cruel amount of aggression.

"Perfect, tie him to chair. Lemme wake him up, I wanna talk to my brother. But, you Bami's better stay around here. I know that fool Tsu-Tsu hired a shinobi, so they could be anywhere. You don't get paid until after the bathhouse deed is transferred to me, understand!?"

Viciousness dripped from his mouth, Tsu-Tsen did everything he can to make sure people knew he was in charge. An urge to beat him down crosses Batsbami's mind, but he decides against it. With a man like Tsu-Tsen, more jobs were to come, and the work seemed like it could always be this easy. Snapping his fingers, he directs his Bami brothers to grab a chair and restrain Tsu-Tsu in it. After its done, the drowsy Tsu-Tsu sits in the center of the dilapidated safe-house. A sudden splash of cold water rouses him from drugged sleep, he scans the area, his vision blurred from the poison. He tries to shake it away.

"Hey, bro, don't worry," drips the acidic voice of Tsu-Tsen as he walks up to the restrained Tsu-Tsu, "you'll feel better in no time, the drug will wear off. Once it does, we'll be able to talk like family, understand?"

'





[[1348/2702]]

Tsu-Tsu looks up at the face of his Tsu-Tsen, the drug coursing through his blood blurs his vicious smile and handsome face. Tsu-Tsen pats his brother on the face, slapping him lightly.

"Lookie you, always the pride of the Nakimura family. See, father didn't care that I started my own business, something a Nakimura hasn't done in decades. No, he only cared about the one that was making the most money. It's not my fault I wasn't born the eldest, I didn't have the luxury of having a business given to me at birth. No, I made my own way, Tsu-Tsu. And, I was content with that. But oh no, you had to rub it in my face at the dinner didn't you? You just couldn't resist flaunting your money or status. Hell, even father was disgusted with your behavior! So, all I'm doing is making sure the Nakimura name isn't ruined by someone like you, Tsu-Tsu." Tsu-Tsen kneels down, padding his brother on the knee, making sure he is awake and listening. "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be, brother. Just transfer the Hot Springs to my name. Don't worry, there won't be any legal issues, a Nakimura will still be in charge. Maybe you can retire, get a nice farm out near the River Country borders? Come on, don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

Tsu-Tsen takes out a legal document, making the transfer of the bathhouse from Tsu-Tsu to him legal. He places a pen in his drowsy brothers hand, and puts the tip on the signature line of the document. He grips his brother's wrist, hard, trying to force him to sign the sheet of paper.

"C'mon Tsu-Tsu, sign the damn paper."

Tsu-Tsu, having now shaken off the effects of the drugged dagger, scans his surroundings. He notes the five Bami's, the thugs who kidnapped him, stand in front of the windows, stair way, and front door: guarding the only entrance and exit to the dilapidated safehouse. His vision returns to normal, he gets a clear look at the man who orchestrated his kidnapping. He's surprised to see the features of a Nakimura. He mutters something under his breath, something that makes Tsu-Tsen come close.

"Hm? Speak up Tsu-Tsu, I can't hear you."

A strange voice, one very much unlike Tsu-tsu, thrummed from the squat and mustached man, its warm, basso tone made fear snake down Tsu-Tsen.

"The bonds of family should be stronger, you are a disgrace to your brother, and your name."

In the next moment, a sudden plume of smoke burst from the squat body of Tsu-Tsu, the sounds of rope snapping in half accompanied this obscuring cloud. As the smoke cleared, an awesome and daunting sight greeted Tsu-Tsen and the Bami brothers. An immense and intimidating figure stares at the six men with intense eyes, his ash-white-hair glows in the dank light of the safe house. A flower-patterned kimono drapes over his massive shoulders, its untied, revealing the symbol of sungakure wrapped around the shinobi's thick neck. His dune-colored flak-jacket teems with various ninja tools, his face is stone and his expression is unforgiving. As Tsu-Tsen recognizes the shinobi in front of him, a cold dread washes down his back, he gazes at the visage of Cliff-Splitter. In an instant, he knows how he's found himself in this situation.

At some point, possibly the morning of the kidnapping, Cliff-Splitter had met with the real Tsu-Tsu, and most likely advised him to leave the bathhouse. With the threat to the owner nearly gone, Cliff-Splitter must've utilized a basic academy ninjutsu, the Transformation technique, to disguise himself as Tsu-Tsu. And, because the dosage of the drug was made in mind to Tsu-Tsu's actual weight and body type, the drug would not have knocked out Cliff-Splitter, and he would be able to retain the transformation jutsu as he was being taken to the safehouse. As these connections are made, Tsu-Tsen feels his rage boil over and turn white-hot. As he's about to scream an order to the Bami's, a sudden movement from the shinobi stops him. As his mouth opens, Cliff-Splitter brings his hand up to Tsu-Tsen's forehead, and flicks him with his finger. The impact knocks Tsu-Tsen to the ground, the pain and shock makes his vision shake and slams his brain to one side of his skull. The sudden cry of anguish draws the attention of the other Bami's and for three of them it would be too late. 

As Batsbami and Tsubami look to their other brothers for support, they would see two thin needles, senbon, in each of their necks, sticking out from their main artery. Blood would gush out from each pump, even if they pulled the needle out the bleeding wouldn't stop. As this revelation kicks in, the three bami's cannot hope to scream: death comes to them before the sound can escape their throats. Tsubami, the bald and ugly thug with the club, puffs out his chest and rushes Cliff-Splitter. He swings his club wide, aiming for the shinobi's skull. Even if he did have powers, he was still human, and it didn't take much of Tsubami's strength to crack a skull. When he felt his club hit something solid, and felt those tell tale vibrations of making full contact in his forearms, he was sure the skull of Cliff-Splitter would have been split in half. But, when Tsubami sees that what he made contact with was the immense chuunin's own forearms, all confidence leaves him: and he soils himself. As the white-ash-haired Sarutobi grips the club and pulls the bald thug toward him, a singular thought crosses Tsubami's mind.

This was a mistake...

Cliff-Splitter throws a right jab toward the thug, punching through his skull and killing him instantly. Batsbami's eyes go wide as he see's his brother murdered in front of him, anger and wrath screech through his screaming voice as he brandishes his poison-dipped dagger. He rushes Cliff-Splitter and slashes at his back. He knows that his knife won't do any real damage, but he doesn't need it to. He only needs it to break skin.

Cliff-Splitter hears the rushing of foot steps behind him, and hears the voice of Batsbami. Dislodging his arm from the skull of Tsubami, he turns to his rushing opponent and brings his bloodied forearm up to block the slash. The blade connects with the forearm, and a sickening laugh escapes Tsubami.

"You idiot! Did you forget my knife was poisoned? In a few seconds, it'll take affect, and you're gonne be my b-"
Tsubami's words were cut off by an intense impact in his chest. He looks down, and sees that Cliff-Splitter's left arm has run through his sternum. Blood gushes from his mouth, he looks up to the intense eyes of the Sarutobi. Before he can think to ask how his poison had no effect, the answer reveals himself. The knife had indeed cut into the kimono-covered arm of Cliff-splitter, and had slashed through the fabric with ease. But, the knife did not break his skin, it only scratched the material of his engraved, anbu arm guards.

"Bitch...," says Tsubami as he takes his last breath. His body slumps over, and crumples to the ground as Cliff-Splitter removes his arm from his chest.

As this goes on, Tsu-Tsen tries to collect his senses. He crawls toward the front door, hoping his hired thugs can distract the shinobi long enough for him to escape. As he gets to the exit, a massive weight steps on and crushes his ankle, making him scream in pain. He turns to see Cliff-Splitter's eyes burning into him.

"L-listen, please! I'll do anything, what's your price!?" says Tsu-Tsen, pleading with the shinobi in front of him. "I can pay you, much more than my brother can! Please, just let me go, and no one will know!" Knowing the reputation of Cliff-Splitter, Tsu-Tsen hopes his bribe will work. What kind of shinobi would destroy his own village, he thinks. Not one loyal to his kage, or so Tsu-Tsen reasons. He brings himself up, and rests his back on a wall, feeling like his bribe is working. "C'mon Cliff-Splitter, we both know you could use the money. Just let me go, and you'll be a very rich man!"

The confidence that was swelling in Tsu-Tsen quickly deflates as Cliff-Splitter brings his balled fist up and over himself, his terse answer sounding like the judgment of an executioner.

"No."

Raleth Sarutobi brings his fist down in a hammer swing and caves Tsu-Tsen's skull in, killing the corrupt Nakimura instantly. Having already ruined his kimono, the white-ash-haired Sarutobi wipes the blood off his hands with the slashes fabirc, and throws it over Tsu-Tsen. 

He opens the door to the dilapidated safe house, to the direction of the hotel Tsu-Tsu is staying at. As he walks, he thinks on what to tell the Nakimura. He hopes the news of his brother plotting his murder would not sadden him, but also knows that Tsu-tsu will be overjoyed to hear that the damage to his bathhouse was minimal, if negligible. Feeling like he accomplished his mission with the discretion of a shinobi, Raleth Sarutobi holds his head high, his journey to Jounin looks like it won't be as long as he thought.

AP: 747/757

Jutsu Used:

[EXIT]

[[1557/4259]]


[EXIT Claims]
25% Max Stat Discount

• Breath of the All-Father (437/750) [Previous Thread Claim] + 313
  
• Chakra Cloak (1875/1875)
  
• Tank (2071/3000)
  

Approved