Cleaning House

Thunder cracked, rain poured, and atop a straw roof in the outermost ring of the village a man crouched. Below him were the slums of tanbogakure, poorly constructed buildings thrown up hastily in an attempt to account for the towns rapidly expanding population. And in the center of the street beneath him was the man he'd seen nearly a week ago at Shimata's. Although the Komekage's cousin had prevented him from pursuing the man then, it seemed the Zukumiki clansmen was a creature of habit, a quirk which made a man easy to track.

A black hood shielded Shichiro from the rain and concealed his face in shadow. However beneath the shadow if one looked closely they could see the slight glimmer of a smile. There it is He'd think to himself as he watched the bald man waltz into a warehouse guarded by two shinobi. It seemed after a week in the village, he'd finally found one of the Zukumiki gathering places, but one question still remained and was at the forefront of Shichiro's mind. What exactly are they doing in there

Shichiro stood and stretched, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. It wasn't a hard task, and he'd performed dozens like it in the past back home. The Zukumiki were no strangers to the business they'd involved themselves in. Much like nations and villages, suppliers had boundaries. The Hashimoto family had respected theirs in good faith, and the Zukumiki had not returned the favor.

This required a correction.

Using the darkness of the night, and the crack of thunder to conceal his movements the guards would fail to see or hear Shichiro leap from the roof he was perched on to that of the warehouse. Transferring from a leap to a roll he'd come to a stop in front of glass moonroof which let him peer into the space beneath him. What he saw was exactly what one might expect him to, a Zukumiki drug operation. A headcount would include the two guards, the bald man he'd followed here and what seemed to be 3 growers. Six men in total.

the shinobi first Shichiro would think as he returned to the edge of the roof. Then I'll pay back the bald one

He gazed and the guards and scene before him. The streets were empty, few people if any wanting to be out in this weather which worked for him, the less witnesses the better after all. He'd take one last deep breath before committing, a simple weave of three handsigns, a stretched shadow later and Shichiro would have control of the left guards body. The man had a katana sheathed to his left hip, a setup Shichiro had noticed and mimicked as he'd watched them on the other roof.

Shichiro's hand would fall to the pommel of his katana drawing it from its sheath. The man below would follow in unison and in one swift motion the two would swing their blade to the left, Shichiro would hit air, the man below had a more horrific situation on his hands. No doubt mortified by the fact he'd just decapitated his friend he'd still be in shock as Shichiro released him from control and dropped from the roof, burying a katana in the mans skull and driving him into the ground.

Two guards down, without a sound.

Shichiro pulled the blade from the guards body, taking a moment to gather himself before letting himself in the front door. The four remainders seemed to be hard at work packaging product, and the bald man appeared to be overseeing them. The young Hashimoto brother supposed this meant he was in charge of the operation. Regardless, none of them had seemed to catch on that he'd entered the building.

Shichiro smiled as he continued to walk towards them, since he'd entered the village he'd had to partake in networking. Exhausting but necessary social interactions which would allow him to start his operation. While he occasionally dabbled in conversation with strangers, he couldn't really say he'd ever enjoyed it. What he did enjoy was status, and for as long as he could remember the Hashimoto name had given him just that. The people in the land of hot springs had always given him respect, without the need for petty conversation or any introductions. His name itself carried weight, and the Zukumiki had threatened it.

He was going to enjoy what came next. If the workers were unaware of his presence they soon would be, the tables next to them erupted in response to Shichiros explosive tag kunai, eliminating what he estimated to be 15,000 ryo worth of product, and one underpaid drug dealer. The noise was loud and perhaps unnecessary, but anybody in the area would probably assume it was thunder. As the explosion settled and the dust cleared the two remaining workers wouldn't even have time to process the shuriken lodging in their foreheads.

5 workers dead, and one bald man remaining.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The man from the bar would ask, fear causing his voice to crack.

“A messenger” Shichiro would say sheathing his blade.

“The Zukumiki are trespassing in Hashimoto territory. The land of hot springs is ours, you have one week to withdraw or we will strike additional production centers” Shichiro doubted the demands would be met, if the Zukumiki clan was as proud as his, this would be the beginning of a war… One he didn’t intend to lose.

He’d gesture to the bodies in the warehouse, and then point behind him to the door he’d entered through. “Get rid of these bodies, and inform your higher ups.”

The bald man would stutter as he spoke. “T-thats it?”

Shichiros back was already turned to the man, but he’d give the man a sarcastic response as he walked away “It’s your lucky day baldy, you get to live”. With the job done, he'd slip quietly back into the streets, away from the scene of the crime.

--Exit--
TWC: 1004
Claiming: +1004 A Rank Shadow Imitation Mastery (1358/2500 total)
10 stats to vigor (98 total)