Desecrators of the graves

Murata consciously allows herself to be heard as she follows Travin's chakra signature towards where he's positioned himself in the graveyard, smiling to him in acknowledgement as she drops from the branches of the tree a few meters from him. The silent movement this village prides itself on has been enjoyable to learn and put into practice, but her allies have gotten testy when she's seemed to appear from nowhere. Since she's grown more accustomed to using her sensory techniques, the chakra around her sings in a constant low-level chorus, which some would likely find annoying. To Murata, it is cause for great joy. She still cannot make out the words or the images, not without touch, but the hum soothes her.

"Good evening," she says. Murata's chain armor gleams slightly in the faint light, and her face is a touch red from the chill in the air. "It was a pleasant day for you, I trust? This was all I was scheduled for, so it was nice to have some time for myself." A conversational, pleasant tone - small talk with coworkers.

At first glance, her mission partner reminds her of Gonk. Another serious-faced early bloomer, though this one has traded the curious blue skin for curious blue eyes. They had been provided small, brief files on one another with the mission details, just enough for recognition - age, photo, rank, clan. No clan was listed for Murata, of course. Taking a single name had been fairly normal back home, but it seems less commonly done here, and it is always awkward to fill out forms. She is not sure what she would ever claim as a surname, however.

The mission briefing had also contained some details on what had been occurring in this graveyard. There had been no witnesses of whoever had been breaking in, suggesting either bad luck or a particularly slippery suspect. Several headstones had been entirely smashed, and other ones dug up and remains stolen, largely targeting Hozuki.

---

331

"My file prioritizes my sensory abilities? I suppose they are a more precious commodity here," she says. "I have been much longer acquainted with weapons." Her heavy club sits slung on her back to support her assertion. Fish Eagle, her poleaxe, has been left at home for this mission. This is another task where she has been instructed to bring their target in alive, if possible, and she knows that the weapons you wield influence the possibilities of violence that bloom in your mind. Fish Eagle does have a blunt end, of course, but it is a much crueler one than her kanabo, as mean as the weapon on her back may look.

Murata 'takes' the lead by staying quite still, comfortable in her sheltered position by the tree. As much as the graveyard is a curiosity to her, she would rather peruse its names during the daylight hours, when she does not have greater priorities assigned to her.

"We will hide," she says, "and watch. If we reveal ourselves, our quarry will become cautious and skittish, or abandon their project entirely for the night and waste our time." Murata hops up to grab a low-hanging tree branch, pulling herself up higher into the canopy, voice trailing quietly downwards to her companion. "Follow me. I can watch the entire graveyard, so there is no need for us to split up."

Murata makes her way near the top of the tree, comfortably hidden among the pine needles and fog. Distant city lights gleam through the mist, the rest of Kirigakure carrying on as normal. The graveyard below, blanketed in thick mist, is an enigma to her until she forms the Seal of Confrontation and spreads her awareness across the grounds. It has been closed for several hours now, and had been for much of the day due to damage from the previous two nights, so there are no straggling mourners to distract her. The flames of Travin's chakra are clear to her, and several signatures, outside the grounds and likely quite innocent. For now.

"It is novel for me to live in a city where so many people are up and doing business the late hours," she muses, gaze falling over the lights of the village while her sensory awareness remains on the graveyard below.  "Convenient for the odd hours demanded of missions..."

---

392
TWC: 723

Mind's Eye of the Kagura [Focused]
AP: 681 - 45 = 636

Murata seems perfectly at ease with the question, even eager to provide an answer, though she does not have much to say immediately.

"I grew up in Wolf country. The cities there were not quite like this one." Her months spent in Matsurajo had not been during a happy time. Perhaps the people go out at night more often there now. She hopes so. "I am better acquainted with the countryside."

The graveyard is quiet. Something she had meant to do earlier occurs to her - something she had been thinking about since she had figured out how to use the Shadow Clone technique a few days prior. She pulls up a sleeve and forms a one-handed Dog seal, placing a Mark Seal on the inside of her wrist. She rubs her thumb over the slight tingle of the seal until it passes, and then resumes concentration on her sensory technique - the little dot pinging at her awareness now, distantly. She draws no attention to the act, casually continuing their conversation as she does so.

"What was it like to grow up here, if I may ask? To us, shinobi were ghost stories. It fascinates me that such thriving cities could be based on the profession."

---

205
TWC: 928

Mark Seal -5AP
Mind's Eye of the Kagura upkeep -20AP
AP: 611/681

"That's so young! What do they teach you first?" Murata says. "I do not remember much of my birth family, but I know I helped out in the fields and with the animals. I must have been the same age..." she trails off, eyes turning sharply towards a location in the graveyard, shrouded in mist. "We have a guest. They just climbed the west fence, sixty meters down." Murata pauses for a moment, gathering more information from the visitor's movements.

"They seem to be carrying something heavy. A sledgehammer, perhaps." That would explain the smashed headstones. She drops from her branch, silent as the grave, landing on another below and creeping along to the fenceline to begin to move along it, towards their target. Confident in her ability to regain sensory on their mark once she has moved closer, she allows her focus to drop so she can begin another technique. Immediately she begins to turn translucent, beginning to vanish completely from Travin's sight save for the eerie specter of her chakra picked up by his Seigan.

"Do your best to immobilize them. It does not have to be for long. I will make this quick." She flashes him a confident smile just before her Hiding in Camouflage technique overtakes her face, and once she is totally hidden, she dashes along the fence towards the interloper. She wonders, as his signature reappears within the reduced range of her sensory, why she has always been placed with younger peers on missions. It naturally places her in the role of the leader, where she can certainly perform, but it isn't very comfortable for her. Perhaps this is what they mean by 'fake it until you make it'.

---

285
TWC: 1213

Mind's Eye of the Kagura upkeep -20AP
Hiding With Camouflage -30AP
AP: 561/681

The man growls in irritation, chakra surging through him as the genjutsu splinters apart like scenes from a ruined film reel. He's on the younger side, but haggard and thin, with patchy-looking skin and unhealthy blond hair. The missing-nin life has been visibly unkind to him, and he has grown the disposition to be unkind in return. He's dressed like he's been working on the docks - likely how he's gotten into the village - and he has a shovel slung to his back.

"Rentei," he hisses, tossing the sledgehammer aside and starting to form handseals, chakra flaring, the air crackling with building electric charge. He has the air of a man who is cornered, desperate, and doing his best to be intimidating, as though fluffing himself up like an animal appearing to look larger. "Those knockoffs of yours will barely buy me a week's food, but I'll enjoy prying them from your skull for that, kid -"

Thunk. There's the dull sound of taijutsu against skin. The man teeters precariously, eyes going unfocused, and then he crumples. The charge in the air vanishes.

Murata drops her camouflage, looking down at their quarry with slightly raised eyebrows. For a moment, she lets her hand hang in the air where she had struck him, surprised it had been that easy. She crouches beside him, and then scoops him up to haul his unconscious form up on to her shoulders with a low huff of effort.

"Would you look at that," Murata says. "Full pay for a half hour's work. We are not a bad team."

---

261
TWC: 1474

Hiding With Camouflage upkeep -15AP
Throat Chop -10AP
AP: 536/681