Odd Jobs on the Road to Tanbo

https://www.narutoroleplaygame.com/t47282-a-rowdy-group
https://www.narutoroleplaygame.com/t47278-a-simple-delivery

WC Req: 2000


Chiaki cuts through a wide manjushage field that stretches on as far as the eye can see. Sparsely growing cherry trees jut up from between the spidery, red flowers and stand guard against the sun and wind, rustling and whistling each time a breeze winds its way through the grove. The sweet smell of the flowers fills the air while the bright sunlight streaming from above warms Chiaki’s clothes. With a wooden backpack full of sake bottles on her back, and an open one in her hand, the vagabond makes her way to the next nearest village enjoying the solitude and the sweet wine. The backpack of sake is to be delivered to the inn when she arrives, with the promise that they would give her directions towards Tanbogakure. Aside from the free bottle of sake to drink on her journey, Chiaki is also a fair few ryo richer, the trusting brewmaster paying her upfront for her troubles. She wondered if the man was always so cavalier with the distribution of his product... although she can hardly scoff, as she had no intention of breaking her word to deliver the alcohol.

A satisfied sigh escapes the traveler's lips as she takes another sip. The wine was cold and refreshing, and what's more, it felt nice and cold against her bandaged left palm, still stinging from a sword wound inflicted days ago. It hurt to move her fingers, even when she’d wrapped them around the ceramic sake bottle, but now that they were in a set position the angry nerve endings finally calmed down and stopped crying out in protest. No doubt the hand would remain stiff and sore for several days and even weeks, but Chiaki had no intention of getting into any more fights. For now, the pain abated and she could relax.


Entering a clearing where dusty, rocky earth had prevented any of the cherry trees from growing suitable roots, and the manjushage bushes had been stamped flat by repeated footfalls, Chiaki finds herself back on one of the roads towards civilization. Back on the "proper" path to her destination. Along the path of trodden grasses and trampled weeds, resting on a knee-height boulder, is a man in a red hooded sweatshirt and leaning against a wooden spear. A red tengu mask with a long nose is pushed off to the side of his head. With his mask out of the way, the man is free to enjoy the rice ball in his hand, and little grains of sticky rice drift down to his shirt and lap. He sees Chiaki approaching and wipes his mouth with a gauntleted hand, arm wrapped around the spear, before offering a casual two-finger salute. “Yo, you’re not here to rob me are you?” He chuckles at his own joke and returns to eating, clearly unconcerned.

Chiaki returns the smile and steps up to him, holding out the half-finished bottle of sake. “You look like you could use something to wash that down with. Here, it’s yours if you can tell me if I’m still on the path to Toyoura.”

The man takes the bottle and indulges in a large gulp, followed by a refreshed sign. After wiping his mouth again, he looks up at Chiaki and shakes his head.

“Nah, you’ve strayed a little bit. Keep on this road and you’ll miss the town by a few miles. Keep cutting through the fields, straight north.” He points out the way. “That’ll take you up a hill, from the top of which you’ll see the village. You can’t miss it.”

He offers the bottle back to Chiaki, but she waves it off and bows. “Thanks, stranger. Keep the drink; I appreciate your help.” She readjusts the straps of her backpack, getting ready to resume her journey, now armed with the new knowledge of how to get to her destination.

“It’s Yoshitsune, not ‘stranger.’ Good luck, friend.” The man says with a grin. Chiaki nods. “Chiaki. Stay safe out there, Yoshitsune.” The man pats his spear gently, making a soft clinking sound as his gauntlet taps against the haft. “No worries, Chiaki. See you around the next time you travel south, with any luck.”

Yoshitsune stands up to leave as well, and the two return to traveling, now in opposite directions.


…


Yoshitsune’s advice proved true; It was only an hour or so before Chiaki found herself climbing up a steep hill, using the trunks of cherry trees to help her legs hoist her body higher. “Would have been nice to get a little warning,” Chiaki snorts to herself with a smile. She takes a deep breath and continues on, higher and higher. A few minutes later and she is staring down at the largest canyon she’s ever seen. Rice Country is usually so flat, with gently rolling hills and fields of wild grain and tall grass. But from this hill, Chiaki can see for miles. For someone from mountainous country, perhaps they would scoff and see it as just another hill, a slight increase in elevation… but to Chiaki, so used to her flat home town, where the only way to get a view from any kind of height was to climb a tree… it was like standing on top of the world.

She scans the horizon, taking in the scenery, almost forgetting to even look for the village up ahead. She spies the smaller hills rolling far into the distance, dwarfed by the the hill she stands on and by distance. She sees the winding river that cuts off the manjushage fields from the rest of the world, the clear blue of the water contrasting the deep crimson of the spider-like flowers. She can see the path she was supposed to be taking, again nothing more than the most common route through a wild field, the result of hundreds or thousands of people stamping down the overgrowth and imposing a visible depression into the plantlife. On top of one of the taller hills is the town, the road winding between the bumps in the earth to form an easy - if a bit long and circuitous - trail up to the wooden buildings and smoking chimneys.


The way forward is clear with the town in sight. Regardless… Chiaki removes the wooden backpack from her shoulders and sets it gently on the ground next to her before sitting down in the grass herself. The sun is beginning to hang a little low in the sky, with Chiaki estimating that she had four or five hours of sunlight left. The journey ahead should take two. That gave her an hour or two just to enjoy the view.


…


The sun hangs low in the sky over the hilly fields as Chiaki finally returns to the trail… mere meters outside of the village. A line of spread out, wooden buildings stretches before her along the gently curving road, most with candles hanging outside. Perhaps the locals don’t care much for electric lighting, or perhaps they have a limited supply? In either case, it gave the small, quaint town a fine bit of atmosphere as the locals travel home or to shops for dinner, and playing children pack up their toys and say their goodbyes as they head home. A fair number of people are making their way to one of the largest buildings in the small town, which Chiaki presumes might be the tavern she’s expected to deliver to.

Even outside she can hear the laughing and the music, a joyful atmosphere formed from collective relief and respite from a hard day’s work. Chiaki brushes aside the curtain at the entrance and ducks down to enter the too-small-for-her doorway. The room inside is warm and inviting, with an old, stone brick fireplace burning logs of cherry to one side, a bartop to the other, and myriad chairs and tables in between. An old, bearded man hustles in the kitchen behind the bar, with his sons and daughters - judging from the similarity in facial features - running to and fro on the floor with trays of alcohol and steaming hot food. A woman stands behind the bar, pouring sake and other liquors into cups at a rapid pace, struggling to keep up with the hastily increasing populace within the establishment. Chiaki makes a beeline for her, taking a deep breath in through her nose and savoring the smell of cooked pork and seasoned vegetables. She takes off her backpack and places it on the bartop, patting the top of the wooden box with her hand.

“Waiting on a delivery?” Chiaki asks with a smile.

The woman sighs with relief, wipes her brow with the back of her hand, and eagerly takes the box and its contents, handing it to one of the kids to put away. “Thank you so much!” She replies. “How much do I owe you?”

Chiaki waves her hand. “Already paid for. Can I get a meal instead, when you’ve got time? I’m in no rush, and I’d like to ask some directions once business slows down.”

“Oh, honey, it isn’t going to slow down anytime soon. I’m used to this pace, don’t worry. You might as well ask for those directions now.” The woman winks as she returns to her work, leaving one ear trained on Chiaki.

Before she can ask, Chiaki is interrupted by a glass bottle being thrown past her, colliding with the bar and spraying glass shards onto the bartender, who ducks swiftly enough to avoid the bulk of the expulsion. Chiaki whips around to look at the source of the projectile to see a tall, heavy set woman with an eyepatch scowling drunkenly.

“Less talk, more work, bitch! Where’s our food, where’s our second round?”

Chiaki stands up and glares at the aggressor, but the bartender puts a hand on her shoulder and shakes her head. A couple of other patrons in the bar appear to be as righteously indignant as Chiaki is right now, and they stand up to tell the rowdy drunk to sit down and shut up in no uncertain terms. Two of the aggressive woman’s friends stand up themselves, pulling aside their overcoats to reveal sharp blades hooked onto their belts, sights that quickly quell any dissent from the masses. Chiaki looks to the bartender, who replies, “That’s Kazume and her bodyguards. Daughter of a bandit captain. She’s looking for a fight, just ignore her and she’ll get bored. Break a few tables, she might, but she’ll leave.”

Sure enough, while the bartender is talking, Kazume has been screaming at tables near her own, trying to provoke a reaction. She kicks a few occupied chairs over, then upends a table, sending the foods, drinks, plates, and cups crashing to the floor. Chiaki watches with growing rage, but something other than Kazume’s foul personality catches her eye. The bandit’s hands shake, and their fingers twitch and curl into strange positions, even when Kazume is seemingly at relative ease. The way Kazume’s head jerks about, along with her unfocused eyes, tells Chiaki that the woman may have had more to drink than she can actually handle. Alcohol poisoning? It certainly looked like Kazume’s extremities were lacking oxygen, meaning the bandit’s blood is now so rich with alcohol that there is too little oxygen to actually reach her fingers. The muscles were falling asleep, the nerves deadening. While Chiaki is thinking about this, Kazume returns to her table to take another drink. A long one. After several seconds with her lips at the upturned bottle, it is beginning to look like Kazume might try to down the entire thing.

Brushing aside the bartender’s hand, Chiaki stands up and walks towards Kazume’s table. The woman glances over and sets aside her bottle, a scowl hiding the twitch of excitement on her face. Kazume’s bodyguards step forward, interposing themselves between Kazume and Chiaki. They brandish the knives just like before, only Chiaki doesn’t even pay attention. She lunges forward, grabbing one of each of their arms - the ones closest to the weapon hilts - close to the shoulder, and heaving both bodyguards to the side. They are sent tumbling to the ground, but both roll to their feet with grace, already drawing their weapons.

Chiaki continues forward, towards Kazume, who now looks surprised by the concept that she might actually have to defend herself on her own. Drunk as she is, her defense is nothing more than a pitifully slow haymaker that she doesn’t even manage to fully cock back before Chiaki’s fist collides with her gut. Kazume’s eyes widen and her throat catches as all the wind is knocked out of her lungs, and she doubles forward as Chiaki’s clenched fist sinks deeper and deeper into the tissue.

Without wasting time, Chiaki steps behind Kazume, wraps her arms around the bandit’s waist, just underneath the ribs, and pulls both her fists inwards. The technique isn’t a martial one, but a medical one… designed to dislodge obstructions in the throat. But it has a second effect, usually unintentional except in this particular case…

Kazume vomits up the contents of her debaucherous evening, including the most recently guzzled bottle of sake. Her bodyguards instinctively jump back, looking at each other in confusion and disgust. When she is finished, Kazume passes out, too drunk and too exhausted to even keep awake. Chiaki unceremoniously dumps her onto the floor, then looks at the bodyguards. She gestures at Kazume’s body.

“...uh… keep her lying on her side, in case she needs to throw up again, I guess. Sorry for knocking ya'll to the ground.”


The bodyguards eventually decide that their boss is only in need of protection from herself, and quickly make an exit, carrying Kazume’s sleeping body with them. The inn itself eventually resumes its loud and chaotic atmosphere, conversation now filled with questions about who Chiaki is, where she came from, whether Kazume would be back or not… questions not to be answered until another time. Chiaki herself returns to the bar, where the stunned barkeep is at a loss for words.


Chiaki shrugs and simply says, “Sorry ‘bout the mess. Give me a brush and a bucket of water, and I’ll clean it right up for ya.”