Mission A Snatch-n-Grab!? [Self Modded Team Mission]

The South-Side of the Community District at night was a different beast than it was under the faux desert sun. The vibrant chaos of the day had settled into a low, restless hum, illuminated by flickering lanterns that cast long, dancing shadows against the sandstone walls. Goro stood at the edge of the market square, feeling the cool night air pull the heat from the stones.

He did not like standing out in the open. To steady his nerves, he began a mental inventory of his gear, his hands moving in a subtle, rhythmic dance beneath the folds of his clothes. His fingers drifted over the primary holsters where his three kunai and five shuriken were tucked away. In a specialized pouch, he felt the distinct, ridged edges of the hardened silk needles he had spent the previous night crafting. He had produced the silk from his mouth and infused it with chakra to give it the density of pine wood, then coated the tips in a mild, blunt-force paralytic. It would not kill, but it would certainly stop a limb.

Further along his belt, his fingers brushed the edges of his explosive seals. He had prepared these with a thin layer of Plexitism, a specialized explosive compound he had learned about through family trade. It made the blast more concussive and more focused, which was perfect for the tight confines of a bazaar if things went sideways.

As a patrol of the village police walked past, their armor clinking softly, Goro felt a sudden spike of self-consciousness. Even in the dim light, he felt oversized. He shifted his weight, pulling his extra limbs tight against his ribs and crossing his middle and lower arms over his stomach in a protective, grounding hug. He tried to make his silhouette as narrow as possible, blending into the shadows of a nearby spice stall.

He was ready for a fight he hoped would not happen, but the tension of the village post-attack felt like a wire pulled too tight.

Goro looked toward the main thoroughfare, his red eyes scanning the flickering lantern light for his teammates. The other two students had not arrived yet. He did not even know their names, just faces from the back of a classroom. He hoped they were punctual because in the Hive, being late meant a shift went unfilled. In the Academy, he suspected it meant something much worse. He adjusted his white braid, pulling it over his shoulder, and ran through the tally of his equipment one last time. Every piece of gear felt like a small, heavy promise to himself.

He took a slow, deep breath, trying to match the steady rhythm of the desert wind while he waited for his peers to emerge from the darkness.

WC: 464

Goro wouldn't have to wait long, as within a matter of minutes of arriving, Shinda would file in from the darkness. He wasn't attempting to blend into the shadows and he was not stealthy, yet he walked light and silent. This could be considered strange if one was to inspect him, his body covered in a shroud. Upon this shroud however were different ornaments made of human bone, crafted into items such as buckles, clasps, and buttons. These things added weight, let alone what remained unseen beneath his clothing. The night did him no such favor either, the bones mixed with his tri-pigmented (White, Black, Red) hair stood out even in the lowest of lights. With crimson eyes, he stared towards Goro with a gaze that said one thing and one thing only.....he was present.

There had not been much of any interaction between them both, though they were students and he had seen the boy here and there, maybe even a class or two. That however did not constitute him considering the boy anything other than a stranger he had an acquaintance with. This look on his face equally didn't harbor any open hostility in their gaze, just paired with his silence would lead to believe he was the thinking type. Which would be true as by nature he wasn't a fan of social banter with people he hadn't formed a trust with. Between two people of unknown origin, information of any kind after all could be used later for any myriad of purposes...and this he was cautious of. Shinda would take this time of observation to make notes of Goro past his physical appearance and found him suitable.

This boy was prepared as well, something he could tell by the equipment brought by Goro and moreso the thought in placement. Adjusting the scarf higher than it's usual position, as it slightly fell to the bridge of his nose, his gaze would divert towards the sky...the artificial dome high above them. Thoughts invaded his mind as his senses brought him back to not long ago when the air was filled with the smell of smoke and incense. Where he, as a Kyouketsu was present during the burial rites and rituals for the twenty-three whom lost their lives in the recent battles. There was still some adjustment to this new way of life but the lives of the old still followed them it seemed...
Snapping back to reality, he'd look at Goro once more, his head tilted slightly while shoulders raised ever so slightly as if speaking with body movements instead of words. Where was their third?

[Mission Entered]
[Topic Entered]
[WC: 440]

The flickering oil lamps of the South-Side market cast long, distorted shadows that seemed to dance between the stalls. The air was thick with the scent of cumin, parched earth, and the metallic tang of cooling stone. It was a restless quiet, the kind that preceded a storm, or in this case, a struggle for survival.

Matsuda Toshi rounded the corner of a spice merchant’s wagon, his wooden sandals clicking irritably against the cobblestones. He clutched a leather-bound ledger to his chest like a shield, his face set in a permanent scowl of administrative exhaustion. He stopped a few paces away from the trio, his eyes darting between them with a look that suggested he’d been short-changed by the Academy.

"Unbelievable," Toshi muttered, loud enough for them to hear. He looked at Goro first, his eyes lingering on the extra sets of arms tucked against the boy's torso. "A six-armed construction brat," his gaze shifted to Shinda, noting the macabre bone ornaments clicking against his shroud, "a graveyard decorator," and finally settled on Sabishii, who seemed to be nodding at thin air. "And a boy who’s clearly missed his bedtime and lost his comb."

Toshi exhaled a sharp, jagged breath and stepped into the center of their loose circle.

"Listen up. I don't care about your clan names or your 'aspirations.' My employer has three stalls in this sector that have been bled dry three nights in a row. We aren't being hit by master thieves; we’re being picked apart by 'pests', those scrawny, displaced brats who think a crisis is an invitation to treat the Bazaar like a free buffet."

He pointed a slender, ink-stained finger toward a cluster of stalls draped in heavy, dark canvas.

"Pay attention to The Golden Grain Silo and Maru’s Dried Goods. Those are the primary targets. The urchins use the ventilation shafts and the narrow gaps between the stone foundations to slip in. They’re fast, they’re small, and they’re desperate. My orders were to see these pests 'dealt with' so the morning rations can actually be sold, not scavenged."

He looked at the three of them, his eyes narrowing.

"The Police Force is too busy playing hero at the breach site to care about a few missing sacks of flour. That's why you’re here. Don't break the stalls, don't scare off the legitimate customers lingering in the tea houses, and for the love of the Kazekage, try to look like you know what you’re doing. I’ll be in the manager’s office at the end of the block. Don't knock unless the market's on fire."

With a final, dismissive huff, Toshi turned on his heel and disappeared back into the shadows of the stalls, leaving the three students alone in the darkening market.


WC: 459

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Posting order does not matter, post whenever you can / want to
Mission Mod Post: Please read the Spoiler below

Goro watched Shinda emerge. The bone ornaments were a strange choice, but Goro had spent enough time in the underground shafts to know that everyone carried their own weight differently. He did not stare. Instead, he simply lifted one of his middle hands in a small wave before tucking it back.

When Sabishii arrived, looking like he had not slept in a week, Goro gave a faint nod.

"Hello," Goro murmured, his voice a quiet rasp. He said nothing more, letting the silence settle between them until the manager arrived.

Goro listened to Toshi’s insults with a practiced, stony indifference. He had worked under men like this his whole life, men who saw extra limbs as tools and children as cheap labor. He knew the type. Toshi did not want to help, he wanted the problem gone. Asking questions would be a waste of breath. Goro simply memorized the shop names and focused on the street layout.

Once Toshi left, Goro turned and began to walk. He moved with a slow, heavy gait, his red eyes scanning the rooftops and the gaps between the sandstone buildings. He stopped near a stone water basin between the two target shops and pulled a folded, dusty map from his vest.

He spread it flat, using two hands to hold the corners and a third to point. "The Silo is here," Goro said, his voice barely above a whisper. He moved his finger an inch. "Maru’s is across the gap. They are close."

He looked up at the others, then toward a nearby ledge that overlooked the alleyway. "We should find a vantage point above." Goro said lowly, not wanting to overtake any ideas they may have. While we watch, I can set a web in the gaps. It will snag them. He went quiet then, waiting for a nod or a better idea.

WC: 304

[Moderator Post]

The air in the South-Side market settled into a heavy, expectant quiet. The flickering oil lamps provided just enough light to see the silhouettes of the shops, but the spaces between them were pools of ink. It was the kind of darkness that felt thick, almost like it was pressing against the skin.

Matsuda Toshi’s office door remained shut. The only sound was the distant, muffled activity of the village’s night shift and the occasional groan of the sandstone buildings cooling in the desert air.

Deep in the shadows of an adjacent rooftop, the girl sat perfectly still. She was small for her age, but the veins around her eyes were prominent and pulsing. Her gaze was not fixed on the physical shapes of the three students, but rather on the bright, swirling flows of chakra within their bodies. To her, they looked like beacons against a sea of grey. She was the anchor of her group, the lookout who saw through walls and darkness alike. She watched Goro unfold his map and noted the way Shinda and Sabishii stood their ground.

While she maintained her vantage point, her two companions were already in motion. One boy slipped through a narrow alleyway behind a row of spice stalls. He moved with the desperate, light-footed grace of someone who had spent their entire life avoiding the village police. He stopped behind a stack of empty crates, his breathing shallow and controlled.

The second boy was below. He had found a breach in the older masonry of the drainage system. He was navigating the cramped, damp tunnels that ran parallel to the foundations of Maru’s Dried Goods. He moved by touch, his fingers tracing the cold stone as he felt for the vibration of footsteps above.

None of them moved to attack yet. They were watching. They were waiting for the "shiny ones", the shinobi, to make their first mistake or leave a gap in their defense.

WC: 324

---

All three of the boys were quiet. Goro shifted his weight, noting that they had more similarities than he had initially realized. None of them had argued with Toshi. They all just stood there, looking strange in the lamplight, waiting. But that hesitation and that lack of anyone speaking up made Goro worry. He feared it might be their undoing. Not that he wanted to be the one to change that.

He listened as they offered their suggestions. They were good. Shinda had pointed out the danger from below ground, something Goro surprisingly had not considered. It was a sharp reminder of his own inexperience. Sabishii seemed to agree, though his cryptic words were hard to parse. Goro was not a fan of poetry or Monzaemon-like phrases. He preferred things he could touch.

Still, the silence was stretching too long. Goro felt a heavy and uncomfortable pressure in his chest, like he was being shoved toward a ledge. If he did not say something, they would just stand here until the shops were empty. He looked at the map again, his fingers twitching.

"You're... you're right," he said. His voice started as a thin rasp, but he cleared his throat, forcing a bit more bass into his tone. "We had... one class together... but it is hard. Not knowing... what everyone can do."

He bit his lip, then awkwardly extended the map toward Shinda.

"I am... Tsuchigumo Goro," he started. His voice gained a bit more volume, though he still stumbled over the words. "... I am okay with traps. Projectiles. Poisons, too. You guys... well, you saw the webs."

He paused, looking at his feet for a second before forcing himself to look back up. He was trying to open up, just a little, for the sake of the Hive.

"I think... I should head to the rooftops," he said, speaking a little more fluently now as the plan formed in his head. "With my webs and... and all these arms, I can catch anyone we spot from above." He gestured to his extra limbs, which were currently folded tight. "Whoever can sense the ground... they should be on the street. Near Maru’s. If we see something... we can use headsets to..."

His bottom arms began fiddling frantically inside his ninja pouch. They were searching and digging, and then they stopped. His face heated up as the realization hit him.

"Oh. I... I don't have a headset," he muttered. The confidence he had been building suddenly deflated.

He fumbled for a moment. His bottom hands pulled out a stack of parchment instead. They were explosive seals, the only ones he actually knew how to draw thanks to his cousins' constant pranking. He held them out, his voice returning but remaining low.

"Err... we can use these. To alert each other," he explained, holding them out with a trembling hand. "A little chakra... just a spark. Like a firework. It will signal the others."

As he offered three seals to each boy, the scent of the parchment drifted between them. It was a faint, sweet smell of ash and timber. He stood there with his arm extended, waiting to see if they would actually take them or if he had just made things even more awkward. If they agreed, he was ready to disappear into the shadows of the eaves.

WC: 560