Mission A Snatch and Grab [Debriefing]

[Goro]

The Omni-Prime Medical Complex loomed over the surrounding district, a massive structure of sandstone and steel that served as a beacon of Suna’s resilience. Inside, the air was a strange mix of sterile antiseptic and the earthy, pungent scent of desert herbs being brewed in the Arboretum. High-tech monitors hummed alongside ancient clay pots of healing salves, creating a triage center that was as eclectic as it was efficient.

Goro moved through the polished halls with a heavy, rhythmic gait. The two children were still suspended in his silk-mesh carrier, looking small and fragile against the backdrop of the state-of-the-art facility. He didn't look at the doctors or the nurses who paused to stare at the six-armed boy carrying a bundle of bleeding urchins. He didn't look at Shindaor Sabishii. He simply walked until he reached the intake desk.

The nurse behind the counter began to ask about the incident, her pen poised over a clipboard, but Goro cut her off with a voice that was flat and devoid of its usual tremor.

"Treat them please," he said, his red eyes fixed on the form. "Tab the bill to the Tsuchigumo Clan."

The nurse paused, her eyebrows shooting up. The Tsuchigumo were a lesser clan, though still a prominent, reclusive power in Suna; invoking their name for a pair of nameless street kids was unheard of. Goro didn't wait for her to process the request. He simply unbundled the children onto the waiting gurneys, watched the medical staff wheel them away toward the trauma ward, and then turned toward the waiting area.

The moment the children were out of sight and the "mission" was technically over, the stoic mask Goro had been wearing didn't just crack, it shattered. He found a secluded corner of the waiting room, far from the hum of the R&D wing and the prying eyes of the staff. He sat down on a low bench, his large frame hunching over. Then, in a display of total sensory overwhelm, he buried his face in all six of his hands. Behind the safety of his palms, Goro was absolutely spiraling.

"What did I just do?"

The "free will" he had been so curious about in class had just manifested as a coordinated, multi-armed assault on a civilian client's genitals. He had:

1. Disobeyed the primary objective (to simply "clear" the area).
2. Attacked the person paying for the mission.
3. Committed literal highway robbery by running Toshi’s pockets.
4. And to top it all off, he had just committed his clan’s to the medical bills of two orphans.

The abject horror of his situation began to set in. The Mission Council would have his head. His clan elders would likely weave him into a cocoon and leave him in a dark tunnel for a decade. He was a laborer, a tool of the village, and he had just spent the last twenty minutes acting like a rogue ninja.

He stayed like that, his fingers digging into his scalp, worried about the potential issues he will face. However despite the chaos, he oddly felt.... good... right.

 

[Kyouketsu Shinda]

Shinda stopped a few paces away and didn’t sit. He leaned against the cool sandstone column instead, arms folded, the bonework at his wrists faintly clicking as the building’s lights hummed. He watched Goro from the corner of his eye not intrusively, just enough to know he was still there. Shinda glanced toward the trauma wing doors the children had vanished through. White light. Clean floors. People who knew how to fix what could still be fixed.

“They’ll live,” Shinda continued. “You made sure of that with your choice before anyone could stop you. That matters.”

He would pause, his thoughts filtering through is head before he spoke again, softer. “The higher ups will be upset, they always are.” His red eyes flicked back to Goro. “But villages don’t survive on obedience alone." Shinda finally pushed off the wall and crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to Goro’s level but not touching, not crowding before he said. “You acted like someone who saw a problem and refused to pretend it wasn’t there.” His voice spoke these words in a tone that wasn't based on comfort. The words were assessment, the kind given after conflict and funerals. It was the truth.

“Feeling bad doesn’t mean you were wrong,” he added. “It just means you’re not empty", his eyes finally blinking with normalcy. Everything would have to be reported and in this case, there would be little in the details that he was ashamed about. At least, outside of the pain inflicted on two of the children....that is what made his chest feel pressure.

[WC: 287]
[Topic Entered]

 

[Goro]

The sterile glow of the Omni-Prime overhead lights seemed to mock Goro as he sat in the corner. He peeked up from the safety of his many hands when he recognized Shinda’s low, gravelly voice. Shinda stood there with that calm tone he so often used, a presence that was as steady as the stone foundations of the village. Goro didn't feel steady. He quickly buried his face again while his two extra limbs tucked inward, clasping around his own torso as if trying to hold his fraying nerves together.

He finally released his face and stared blankly at the ceiling as Shinda offered words of comfort.

"You're right, but I was just lucky...." Goro whispered. To prove it to himself, he tried to channel the green chakra of the Mystical Hand once more. He focused on his palm, praying for that emerald warmth to return, but the energy only flashed for a brief, erratic second before it flickered out entirely. He sighed with a heavy exhale, his head falling back against the wall.

The silence of the hospital wing felt heavy. Shinda spoke of the higher ups and the mission council, but Goro was more preoccupied with the lie he had just told at the intake desk. If only Shinda knew that he had used the Tsuchigumo name just to get the children faster service. It felt like a reckless, foolish move. The clan valued the web and the order of the hive above all else. To disturb the web so clumsily was a sin in their eyes, and Goro had just practically shredded it.

However, his teammate said something that Goro wasn't expecting. Shinda paid him a compliment. Goro looked at him with a deep, quiet confusion. Shinda always seemed so much older than his years, as if he had already seen enough life to fill three lifetimes. He told Goro that he was not an empty tool because his actions had a motive. "How can you be of use if not guided," Goro wondered aloud. In the tunnels, you followed the rules and you stuck to the code. He had always been a small cog in a massive machine, and he never thought there was an option for him beyond simple obedience. Yet, today he had acted on his own. He lacked the discipline his elders demanded, or at least that is what they would tell him when they found out what he had done to Toshi.

Then his mind drifted to the third member of their team. A chill that had nothing to do with the hospital's air conditioning ran down his spine.

"He didn't get her," Goro said, pausing as the realization settled in his chest. "Sabishii... he didn't get the girl.... And that attack he did." Goro thought back to the moment in the alley. He remembered the way Sabishii had looked, dazed and strangely excited by the pool of red on the ground. It wasn't just the efficiency of a shinobi; it was something else. Sabishii had ignored a direct command from the person leading the mission because he was too enraptured by the blood he had spilled.

WC: 519