The Night of the Storm

Author's Note: This is a multi-mission and multi-post thread.


Issei sniffed as he sloshed around the rice paddy, eying the ten centimeters or so of water that splashed about his ankles. He wished he hadn't been quite so hasty in leaving Kirigakure General on such poor terms. Whether the man liked it or not, he was reduced to taking every nonviolent mission he could get his hands on just to make ends meet. Luckily, the shinobi that worked the assignment desk was sympathetic to his plight. Otherwise, there was almost no way that he'd have been able to line up so many jobs back to back in a day.

It was the first of these missions that had him up to his ankles in muck and rice shoots. The rice paddy was on the smaller side, but it had still taken almost all afternoon to rid it of the grasses and broadleaf weeds that had threatened to choke the crop. The Tanbogakure farmer who laid claim to this field eschewed the use of herbicides, which meant that Issei and his fellows were called upon to take care of the matter the old-fashioned way. Thus it was - with his pruny toes and aching back - that the physician strode for dry land.

As the Yuki scion sat himself down on the raised, earthy edge of the paddy, one of the full-time farm laborers made his way over. "You look like death warmed over, friend," the newcomer observed wryly, planting his arse casually within conversational distance of Issei. "Not used to working the fields, are we? You one of the shinobi that the boss brought in?" The physician sighed internally, but mustered a faint smile for the laborer. "That I'm not," he affirmed softly, before tapping his forehead protector - the sign of a shinobi, which bore the sigil of the Hidden Village of Mist.

The laborer tilted his head back and drained half of his water bottle, before offering the remainder to the dark-haired genin. "Haven't been drinking, have you?" The man flashed a knowing smile. "I thought I was," Issei replied with a tired chuckle, accepting both the bottle and the offer. "But there's no harm in having a little more." What had possessed him to wear his new flak jacket to work in the fields, he couldn't even begin to comprehend. All the physician knew was that his shirt was soaked and he was sweating like a ninken after a kami-blasted summer workout.

The sun had just begun to fall below the horizon, a faint breeze picking up as the day laborers made their way out of the paddies. The Yuki scion and his newfound conversational partner followed suit, taking the path up the terraced farmland to where the plantation's purser had set up shop. After joining the line with the rest, Issei watched the laborers draw pay - perhaps five hundred ryo or so apiece - before stepping up to the table and nodding to the squinty-eyed merchant. "One of the genin, are ye?" The physician silently nodded, trusting his forehead protector would prove it.

It didn't take long before the Yuki scion received a small scroll with the client's signature, which he now knew was the accepted practice as far as evidence of non-violent mission completion. He and the friendly laborer parted ways shortly after they'd received payment - the laborer to a bar, and Issei to the grocer's stall in the dockside market. This was the second of his missions this afternoon. More than likely, it would also be the easiest. From one of his jacket pockets, the physician produced a small bit of paper. It was a list of ingredients that the client desired.

Issei hadn't been so sure that he'd be up to completing more missions after a hard day's work in the rice fields. That said, it was something of a pleasant change from the hectic urban life he'd grown accustomed to. A throwback, one might say, to the days when his grandfather's tea plantation was his place of residence and employment. The physician made his way along the misty streets of Kirigakure until his nose was assaulted with the mingled smells of salt, tar, and fish. Aye, that'd be the docks. It, too, was comforting... but it was also getting rather late.

"Let's get this over with," the Yuki scion muttered to himself, using the heel of his hand to rub at one of his eyes. "Nothing I'd like more than a hot meal and a long soak in the bath." Of course, both of those things cost money. And it was his lack of money that had gotten him here in the first place. It occurred to him that his father might've been right - making one's way in the world as a merchant or shopkeeper was likely much easier than working full-time as a shinobi, even without one's life on the line.

Certainly, the men and women with whom he haggled over the price of fish and the weight of a salt sack seemed in better spirits than he was. Of course, that could also have been because Issei was exhausted and not nearly as inclined to bargain as he might've been under better circumstances. It wasn't until he stopped at the fourth market stall for a tureen of fish broth that the physician realized the client had likely worked out a system for such things in advance of submitting the mission request. He'd been all but giving away part of his pay!

After coming upon that realization, the Yuki scion was resolved to make his time in the market as short as possible. If he hurried, he figured that he was less likely to lose more funds and more likely to make it to the bank before it closed. It was, in fact, the location of his third mission... but, more importantly, the man wanted to open an account and make a deposit. Such things were usually only permitted during business hours - and his mission was to make sure that the doors were locked, the perimeters were secure, and close down the facility.

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