Rice to meet you :D

Fujimaru's week had been a long one, He'd been traveling along a road stretching all the way back to the land of hot springs for the majority of it, only stopping to set up camp and sleep during the night. His outfit reflected the journey stained with kicked up dust and dirt, and like his clothes the boy was feeling a little run down. Ahead of the tired traveler was what seemed to be the ending to the endless  sea of trees he'd become accustomed to and the beginning to one made of rice. The boy couldn't help but crack a smile as he thought of shelter and a warm bath and quickened his pace.

As he came out of the shelter of the trees, the world got brighter with the sun beating down on him. Fujimaru adjusted his straw hat and gazed upon the distant village, it was the first significant civilization he'd laid eyes on in years aside from the land of hot springs and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like. The village looked layered, with houses and crops on the bottom of the slope, but as the ground rose large wooden walls seemed to cut off that portion of the city, and behind even that was a castle overlooking the cliff behind it. It was certainly nicer than the tourist trap he'd grown up in from the outside looking in.

A few minutes passed and he'd cleared the paddy fields, and entered what appeared to be the main street of the lower village. There appeared to be a few shops around, but he couldn't seem to locate an inn which was of course his primary concern. He'd been on the road for a week, and wanted a proper bed, and food. "Now what's a guy gotta do to find a place to stay around here?" he'd mutter quietly to himself,  while looking around aimlessly

WC: 319

Adrenaline made Yasahiro's limbs weightless as he raced through the streets of Tanbogakure. Alleys flashed by, faces blurred, and everything fell from the fore save for the feminine figure before him. Clad in black with the distinctive red hand of Zukumiki emblazoned on her back, the woman moved like a shadow between side streets, through crowds, and over obstacles. Not blessed with the same acrobatic prowess of his quarry, the Komekage found himself left to rely on his superior speed and growing knowledge of each street to keep pace with the woman. Shortcuts through vacant construction sites, moving through back rooms, and nearly wrecking a merchant's storefront all allowed the less nimble samurai to keep pace.

I don't have time for this.

Recruitment of a defense force for the village was not going well. A bunch of farmers, aging veterans, and overzealous youths did not exactly inspire confidence. A few individuals showed promise, but promise took time to develop into results. For the time being, this left Yasahiro pulling double duty as direct guardian and administrative head of the village for better or for worse. Sleep, as one might expect, had become an increasingly foreign concept. Perhaps one day soon he wouldn't have to spend his days chasing down Zukumiki's henchmen and his nights poring over muster reports, but today was certainly not that day.

The woman turned out of a narrow alley onto the residential district's largest thoroughfare without even so much as losing a bit of momentum. Perhaps the former exile had underestimated Zukumiki's agent, as she began to pull away down from him on the straightaway. He wasn't faster than her and, worse yet, she was going to get away. If she got to the rice fields it would be too late; she would surely melt into the landscape never to be seen again and certain to report back to her master.

"Stop her!"

Yasahiro's voice rang out just as the woman approached a particular hat-wearing individual.
---
TWC: 330

"Huh?"

Fujimaru said startledly, as a voice boomed through the streets with urgency. His eyes looked to the left just in time to see a woman darting past him. He didn't know why he was being asked to stop her, but it certainly sounded important so the young farmhand reached out and grabbed the woman by the collar of the shirt, and her momentum came to a stop. Fujimaru was no trained soldier but he'd grown up on a farm, and was decently strong. As soon as he grabbed he'd already begun to swing his head in the direction of the voice.

"Okay but why am I-" His question would be stopped short as he felt the jarring pain of the woman's fist connecting to his jaw. It appeared in the brief moment he'd decided to find out what exactly he was doing, the woman had pivoted her momentum and sent it right into his face. The force of the blow sent him spiraling backwards into the underdeveloped village road, right on his ass. "OW! What the hell lady???" He'd say, as he sat clutching his now bleeding lip. This village was certainly shaping up to be anything but boring. The lady didn't seem to notice the question, she appeared to be too busy deciding whether to strike him again, or continue running off into the horizon.

Fujimaru wondered if the minor altercation had bought enough time for the man that had shouted out earlier, and his eyes wondered to the right. After all where the hell was that guy?

WC: 257
TWC: 576

Dodging through the gathering crowd, Yasahiro arrived on the scene sword drawn and eyes narrowed. The woman hesitated for far too long, and she now found the Komekage's blade at her throat. All the speed and acrobatic skill in the world could not help her as the blade kissed her porcelain skin sending a small trickle of blood down her neck and to her heaving chest.

"Today, Kazuko," the samurai called out over his shoulder and into the crowd.

"Yes, sir!" a soft voice cut through the din of the crowd in a melodic tune. "Excuse me. Coming through, yes, excuse me. Thank you."

A pair of bystanders moved aside to reveal Kazuko Taika, one of the few promising recruits to Tanbogakure's small shinobi force. Daughter of the owner of Taika's Tea and Bathhouse, Kazuko had a talent for the healing arts, and what she lacked in physical endurance or speed she made up for in intellectual acuity and a quick wit. In all, her slender frame and slight looks belied the potential kunoichi within that Yasahiro hoped time and training would come to reveal. Every good village had to start somewhere, and Tanbogakure started with those who could develop along with its growing influence in Rice Country.

"Make sure she gets back up to her cell safe and sound, Kazuko," the samurai said, taking a step closer to his prisoner and binding her hands. "Also, get Sento to double-check the locks; she didn't get out by chance."

Zukumiki's agent struggled against her bindings but fell silent with a gasp as the Komekage's fist knocked the wind out of her.

"Yes, sir," Kazuko chirped her nose wrinkling at the harsh reality of the world. "Is there anything else?"

"No," Yasahiro's tone softened as his breathing returned to normal. "Keep your wits about you though, Kazuko, and be safe."

With the departure of Kazuko and her prisoner, the crowd dispersed leaving behind the unwitting good samaritan and the kage. In a practiced flourish, Yasahiro sheathed his blade and turned to the other black-haired man.

"Thank you, by the way," he gave a shallow bow. "She's wanted for murder and espionage, your services to the village are much appreciated."

The samurai paused looking the hat-wearing man over once before continuing.

"I don't think we've ever had the pleasure of meeting, however," he extended his hand. "My name's Yasahiro."

Introductions were something the Komekage had come to abhor. Meet this lord, greet that headman, and entertain those craftsmen; Lord Naito—the feudal lord—kept his military counterpart busy with ingratiating himself to each and every contact he had in the Rice Country. It had all become such a chore that the man would have been happy if he never had to met another highborn individual in his life. And yet, this particular interaction felt different: it was organic, each movement lacked a stilted choreography, and, for a moment, felt normal. Perhaps he needed to get out of the castle more often?
---
TWC: 828

Fujimaru seemed to have worried for nothing, as soon as his eyes had begun to wander for the man, he'd appeared with a sword to the womans throat performing an action which Fujimaru found to be a somewhat extreme retaliation to punching a man in the face. He was about to voice that concern when the stranger spoke first, calling for someone in the now rapidly growing crowd. Fuji's eyes scanned the group as he heard a womans voice, "Yes sir!" It took her a few seconds to appear afterwards as she rather politely made her way through the crowd. The pair in front of him then began to have a discussion about cells and locks, which only caused a growing concern within the young uchiha about what he'd just walked into.

MURDER???

Fujimaru thought to himself after the stranger thanked him. He'd simply assumed that the woman had stolen some goods from one of the local merchants and was making her getaway. The young man nervously gulped as he realized how lucky he was to get away with only a punched face to show for it.

I COULD HAVE DIED!!!

He'd think distractedly before realizing the conversation with the man was still ongoing. He turned his obviously frightened expression to a poor facade at confidence.

"Right, of course... I knew that the whole time, it was no issue, she wasn't all that strong.

Just got a lucky shot in thats all!"

He'd say as he rose off the ground and brushed the dirt off his clothes, so that he could shake the mans hand.

"Nice to meet you Yasahiro, my names Fujimaru, Fujimaru Uchiha. Say, you wouldn't happen to know where any good inn's are in this village now would you?"

The man seemed like the guy to ask, whoever he was he was in some position of authority for the village. Which meant he should know a thing or two about it. After asking the question Fujimaru realized his lip was still bleeding and covered it with the hand he had just used to shake Yasahiro's.

WC: 348
TWC: 924

"Good is a relative term here," Yasahiro replied, a slim smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. "I'd be happy to show you to one of the better ones, but first it looks like you might be more in need of a bar than an inn."

Fujimaru wore a familiar face, the same face dozens of farmer’s sons and daughters wore when pitched with the prospect of fighting for a living as a shinobi of Tanbogakure. Some showed an initial enthusiasm, but even that tended to fade when forced face-to-face with the idea that kunai wouldn't always be used on inanimate targets or straw-filled dummies. Reality, with all its intricacies and idiosyncrasies, could become a dark, jarring thing liable to scare even the stoutest of hearts. Perhaps then the fear was understandable.

"Shimita's is opening soon," he continued, his gaze wandering down the way to where a flickering neon sign inviting passersby for 'Drinks and Good Company'. "There shouldn't be too many people there just yet, what do you say?"

Shimita Kobayashi, owner and sometimes bartender of Shimita's, lacked the same agricultural background as many in Tanbogakure. Rather, the man hailed from somewhere in the Land of Tea where he specialized in the fermentation of sake. After some undisclosed disagreement about the trafficking of illegal goods, he fled his homeland for the Land of Rice and, by the recommendation of Lord Naito, set up shop in Tanbogakure. Since his arrival, Shimita's had become the place to go after a long day's work or simply to forget one's woes—perfect to take one's mind off a recent brush with death.
---
TWC: 1097

Truth be told Fujimaru wasn't much of a drinker, and he was very tired from his travels. When he'd asked about the inn, he was hoping to find a place to crash. But in all fairness, the man did just save his life and it couldn't hurt to make new friends so what the hell. The young man would flash a toothy grin, "Sounds like a plan." He'd say before allowing Yasahiro to lead the way. The walk wasn't long, in fact the bar was just around the corner. The bar itself was strange, It didn't look like much upon first glance the walls were wooden, and painted with old peeling red paint that allowed it to stand out from the rest of the buildings on the corner. As they walked in through the door however, the inside seemed to be the polar opposite of the outside.

The floors were recently swept, 3 shelves full of sake rested behind what appeared to be a freshly cleaned bartop. And there appeared to be some sort of shuriken throwing game on the back wall of the bar. As for customer based, Yasahiro seemed to be correct, including the two of them and the bartender there was a grand total of five living beings currently inside Shimita's.

Fujimaru of course, would make his way to the bartop taking a seat on one of the barstools topped with a comfortable cushion before looking to the bartender. "I'll take your cheapest sake please and thank you" He'd say, unpleasantly aware that he was not a wealthy man, and had no means of income lined up at the moment. Shimata, the man himself seemed to chuckle at the comment before listening to whatever request Yasahiro would make and turning to retrieve what he'd requested.

While they waited on the drinks Fujimaru's eyes shifted to the kunai throwing game. it seemed to be a basic target, with colored rings, and each of the rings had a number on it. There were racks of shuriken on the side for what he could only assume was for customers. Growing up in such a small town as he'd had, he'd never really seen a ninja or had any aspirations to become one.

But throwing stars certainly sounded fun. "Hey Yasahiro, you ever played that game over there? it looks kind of fun don't ya think"

WC: 395
TWC: 1319

"Umeshu and...," Yasahiro scanned the menu before glancing back up at the barkeep. "And a side of karaage, please."

The elderly bartender nodded, mumbled something incoherent, and wandered into the back room. The banging of pots and continued grumbling did not bode well for a timely drink or karaage for that matter. Either way, it didn't exactly inspire confidence; perhaps it was just an off day for Shitmita's, the Komekage couldn't really be sure one way or the other.

"It's not much of a game," the samurai shrugged and walked up to the target. "I grew up with this thing."

To prove his point, he picked up three shurikens and rolled them over his knuckles in a nervous tick he picked up in his childhood. With a flick of the wrist the three bladed stars left his hand at roughly the same time only for half a heartbeat later to appear on the target arrayed in a perfect cluster on the bullseye. It wasn't really much of a game when one practiced days, weeks, and months on end to perfectly arc a ninja tool with just the right spin so as to hit a target behind cover—hitting a stationary target was, quite literally, child's play.

"You give it a shot."

Returning to the bar, Yasahiro collected his drink before casting his gaze back towards the throwing range and Fujimaru. Perhaps he had misjudged the barkeep? The drink came in a timely manner, and the smell of fried chicken told of the fast-approaching karaage. Could he have misjudged the Uchiha as well?
---
TWC: 1359

Fujimaru's jaw dropped.

First the arrest,

now the shuriken.

There was definitely more to this guy then he let on. "Uh... Yea... Sure..." Fujimaru would say, knowing full well he was about to make a fool of himself. He didn't have any shuriken of his own so he went to retrieve the ones on the board that Yasahiro had just targeted. Growing up in a small town Fujiimaru had never really had need of tools like this, the land of hot springs was a relatively peaceful place, sure there was the odd bandit every now and then but it was nothing a local farmer couldn't take care of with a pitch fork. As Fujimaru pried the shuriken from the painted wooden plank he couldn't help but notice that they were heavier then he'd imagined.

Ok, keep it together, just hit the board, thats all you gotta do

He swung back his arm and flicked his wrist.

*clunk*

or not.

The first shuriken had landed just below the plank, outside of any ring and lodged into the wall of the bar. Oh well, at least there was nowhere to go but up from here, he'd think to himself, before taking a deep breath and flicking the second, watching with noticeably increased satisfaction as this one landed in the second outer most of 4 rings.

One more. Make it count

He repeated the actions from his previous throws, and his final shuriken landed in the center of the bullseye, and his excitement was poorly contained. He pumped his fist upward, before turning to Yasahiro "Am I a quick study or what man!" He'd say, pacing back to the bar. Sitting on the barstool and having a moment to breath, he'd ask the man what had been on his mind since meeting him. "So uh, you're clearly good with ninja tools what with the shuriken and swords and all." He'd pause briefly before continuing. "What are you to this village, some kind of shinobi?"

WC: 331
TWC: 1650

"Yeah," the Komekage took a sip of his drink. "I suppose I'm some kind of a shinobi."

Labels, titles, and words meant very little in the end, so why couldn't a samurai be a shinobi and a shinobi a samurai? It didn't matter much one way or the other for Yasahiro especially given the inexperience of his drinking companion. That said, the man, Fujimaru, did have some potential—one typically would have missed the target altogether on their first try without training. So, either Fujimaru's friendly facade hid something more sinister or he had some latent talent.

"You could be one too, a shinobi that is," he continued and gave a half nod over to the target. "You're either lucky or pick things up pretty quickly, both traits make for an excellent shinobi."

The kaarage arrived, and Yasahiro slid a generous stack of ryo to the barkeep.

"Why not stick around for a while? I could teach you a thing or two that might be helpful in your travels."

Perhaps he should have left the recruitment to Lord Naito? The whole song and dance made the skin on the back of the samurai's neck stand up and sent a new tingle of adrenaline through his body. How merchants and other salesmen made it through the day without dissolving into nervous wrecks was beyond him—a few bouts against Zukumiki's best men were preferable.
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TWC: 1593