Seventeen Years Old
Ostensibly, Makoto was a tracker.
This was, supposedly, one of his main roles on any team he was assigned to. Unofficially, he'd always assumed that his real role on any team was 'fill in for whatever is needed, since you're versatile enough with your whole non-elemental thing.'
But, apparently, either someone up top believed in the official explanation, or it actually held some small grain of truth. Huh.
Makoto perused through the dossier of the fugitive he'd been assigned to take out, sitting in a sheltered corner of one of the several mission preparation areas for the Wardens. The woman was responsible for several acts of arson on rather valuable holdings in the south, one of which had resulted in severe injuries and another of which had killed someone. She had been captured and sentenced the previous week, but had escaped. Being as she was from a smaller village and not the main city, she ought to be easy to track--and, apart from some minor fire skills, she was not very powerful and should be easy for him to collect.
Should.
The fact he would be doing it alone, with no immediate backup, was...well, in some ways thrilling and in others completely terrifying. On the one hand, no one to screw him up. On the other hand, if he screwed up, it was all his fault.
Better not screw up, then.
He closed the folder and tested himself on the details.
Kanazawa Fumiko. Nineteen years old. Some unofficial training, potentially from family members. A fire user. Tall, slim, looks older than her age, redhead. Typically wears long hair in a ponytail. Primary weapon of choice, weighted-knuckle gloves. Prefers channeling to handseals from what the arrest team noticed. He flipped open the folder and checked, pleased to see he'd gotten the details right, before setting the folder aside, taking a deep breath, and checking his weapons one last time.
Time to head out, then.
~
Running, running. Always running now, can't slow down or stop.
She could only pause, to hide or catch a nap. Biding her time until the ferry came and she could sneak onto it.
She hadn't done anything, but they wouldn't care. She had to leave, to get away, for her family's sake. Well...her remaining family, anyway. She wasn't strong enough to handle the one who had done this, but with her gone, maybe they'd find the right person.
Maybe. It was a big maybe.
Fumiko had slipped into an abandoned storefront and climbed to the apartment above a half-hour ago. Risky, but she needed a breather. And then, when night hit, she could get food. The ferry to the mainland was in three days. Maybe she could seek sanctuary somewhere.
Until then, rest for a bit, then run.
~
Of course they had something to track her with. Makoto would have told off the guards if they didn't have something to work with after keeping her confined. The fact that it was a hair tie and not, say, a weapon, was a bit eye-raising, but it was still quite useful.
His chakra sensing was quite good, so it didn't take him long to track her down. She was on the move, using the last few hours before sunset to either case the area she was staying in or simply stay away from trackers. Not that it would help her much, against him, but it was the thought that counted.
Pity she hadn't thought before she had torched two buildings with people inside them.
He tracked her to the warehouse district, where she had paused briefly before moving on. It was nearing dark now, the sun setting above the trees of the forest, casting a dim orange glow over their part of the world. No matter; this didn't inhibit him any. It even helped somewhat--anyone who was in this area after dark was asking for trouble in the first place, and he wouldn't get in trouble for cracking a few heads together if he was in a hurry.
"Gotcha," he murmured, turning a corner to the street adjacent to his target's, according to his senses. He slowed down, coming out of a run to muffle his footsteps. It wouldn't do for her to hear him and bolt; a protracted chase was not his idea of a good time.
As it was, she was moving warily, or maybe just getting tired. She didn't apparently have a whole lot of training, after all.
People in other countries' law enforcement might have had the luxury or necessity of stepping out in front of someone and saying 'stop! You're under arrest!' and then dealing with it from there. Wardens, being as they typically dealt with powered people or otherwise dangerous situations on an island with no real military and a surprising amount of ground to cover once all was summed up, did not have that capability.
And the thing was, he didn't need to take her alive. They'd been specific about that. Worryingly specific, in such a way that if he were a normal Warden he would simply have thought that she was more dangerous than was being said and that he shouldn't take chances. And he already treated everyone he went after, even with a team, as more dangerous than was said. So maybe they assumed he would simply do that and take her out.
...Or maybe there was something else going on here.
~
Fumiko didn't know what had tipped her off. All she knew was that something plucked at one of her senses, and she snapped to the side, narrowly evading a crossbow bolt. A second later, the boy who'd shot it touched down lightly from--a rooftop?
A Warden? Or just a bounty hunter? There might not be many of the latter in the city though, she realized; most would probably keep out of reach of the Shrine. But Wardens didn't wear any kind of insignia, like other Moon nin, so it was hard to say.
"I didn't do it!" she blurted, holding her hands up defensively, as if that would stop a trained ninja from obliterating her if he chose to. Then she winced, because it wasn't as if he was more likely to believe her than anyone else had been--even her own family hadn't believed her; why would he? "...I know that's what they all say," she added, feeling lame, "but, I really didn't."
The boy--no, young man? it was hard to tell, he was shorter than her, and his silver hair catching the moonlight didn't exactly make him look any older--had already lowered his crossbow. In fact, as she watched, astonished, he took several steps to the side, retrieved the bolt that had clattered to the ground, and tucked it and the crossbow away.
"I figured as much," he said, neutrally. "Something wasn't adding up. And if you were guilty, you would have attacked me by now." He shrugged, as if to indicate he wasn't particularly concerned about her making the attempt, which made her feel all sorts of competent right now. "Pretty sure a lot of this is someone's plan. So I suppose the question is: who has enough of a grudge to do this to you, or are you just a convenient patsy?"
His voice was smooth, definitely late teenage, but cultured. She wouldn't be surprised if he could sing, either--and well, to boot. She stared at him at a minute, at a loss for words briefly even as her mind worked. A grudge? Not likely.
"I...I guess, probably the second one," she said slowly. "...but they did it really well, even my family believes it."
He made a 'hmm' noise. "All right then. I suppose the real question is who would gain from that bout of arson down south. You were probably just a convenient pyrokinetic...are you sure you don't have anyone who might frame you up? Someone with connections? It would make this easier."
Fumiko shook her head. "I can't think of anyone. Might it be someone who dislikes my family, or the man who was killed?"
He considered this. "Certainly possible. Either way, the next move is obvious."
"...Obvious?" Was he going to turn her in after all? She had no illusions about her ability to fight her way past a ninja.
"Oh, yes." There was a ghost of a smile on his face. "I'm going to get you a disguise, and we're going to head down to the scene of the crime--or crimes, rather--and start talking to people. Get to the bottom of this."
She reeled. Disguise? Go investigate? For me? But... "Why?"
"Isn't it obvious?" That faint smile was still etched into his face. "I don't like leaving a mystery unsolved."
Ostensibly, Makoto was a tracker.
This was, supposedly, one of his main roles on any team he was assigned to. Unofficially, he'd always assumed that his real role on any team was 'fill in for whatever is needed, since you're versatile enough with your whole non-elemental thing.'
But, apparently, either someone up top believed in the official explanation, or it actually held some small grain of truth. Huh.
Makoto perused through the dossier of the fugitive he'd been assigned to take out, sitting in a sheltered corner of one of the several mission preparation areas for the Wardens. The woman was responsible for several acts of arson on rather valuable holdings in the south, one of which had resulted in severe injuries and another of which had killed someone. She had been captured and sentenced the previous week, but had escaped. Being as she was from a smaller village and not the main city, she ought to be easy to track--and, apart from some minor fire skills, she was not very powerful and should be easy for him to collect.
Should.
The fact he would be doing it alone, with no immediate backup, was...well, in some ways thrilling and in others completely terrifying. On the one hand, no one to screw him up. On the other hand, if he screwed up, it was all his fault.
Better not screw up, then.
He closed the folder and tested himself on the details.
Kanazawa Fumiko. Nineteen years old. Some unofficial training, potentially from family members. A fire user. Tall, slim, looks older than her age, redhead. Typically wears long hair in a ponytail. Primary weapon of choice, weighted-knuckle gloves. Prefers channeling to handseals from what the arrest team noticed. He flipped open the folder and checked, pleased to see he'd gotten the details right, before setting the folder aside, taking a deep breath, and checking his weapons one last time.
Time to head out, then.
~
Running, running. Always running now, can't slow down or stop.
She could only pause, to hide or catch a nap. Biding her time until the ferry came and she could sneak onto it.
She hadn't done anything, but they wouldn't care. She had to leave, to get away, for her family's sake. Well...her remaining family, anyway. She wasn't strong enough to handle the one who had done this, but with her gone, maybe they'd find the right person.
Maybe. It was a big maybe.
Fumiko had slipped into an abandoned storefront and climbed to the apartment above a half-hour ago. Risky, but she needed a breather. And then, when night hit, she could get food. The ferry to the mainland was in three days. Maybe she could seek sanctuary somewhere.
Until then, rest for a bit, then run.
~
Of course they had something to track her with. Makoto would have told off the guards if they didn't have something to work with after keeping her confined. The fact that it was a hair tie and not, say, a weapon, was a bit eye-raising, but it was still quite useful.
His chakra sensing was quite good, so it didn't take him long to track her down. She was on the move, using the last few hours before sunset to either case the area she was staying in or simply stay away from trackers. Not that it would help her much, against him, but it was the thought that counted.
Pity she hadn't thought before she had torched two buildings with people inside them.
He tracked her to the warehouse district, where she had paused briefly before moving on. It was nearing dark now, the sun setting above the trees of the forest, casting a dim orange glow over their part of the world. No matter; this didn't inhibit him any. It even helped somewhat--anyone who was in this area after dark was asking for trouble in the first place, and he wouldn't get in trouble for cracking a few heads together if he was in a hurry.
"Gotcha," he murmured, turning a corner to the street adjacent to his target's, according to his senses. He slowed down, coming out of a run to muffle his footsteps. It wouldn't do for her to hear him and bolt; a protracted chase was not his idea of a good time.
As it was, she was moving warily, or maybe just getting tired. She didn't apparently have a whole lot of training, after all.
People in other countries' law enforcement might have had the luxury or necessity of stepping out in front of someone and saying 'stop! You're under arrest!' and then dealing with it from there. Wardens, being as they typically dealt with powered people or otherwise dangerous situations on an island with no real military and a surprising amount of ground to cover once all was summed up, did not have that capability.
And the thing was, he didn't need to take her alive. They'd been specific about that. Worryingly specific, in such a way that if he were a normal Warden he would simply have thought that she was more dangerous than was being said and that he shouldn't take chances. And he already treated everyone he went after, even with a team, as more dangerous than was said. So maybe they assumed he would simply do that and take her out.
...Or maybe there was something else going on here.
~
Fumiko didn't know what had tipped her off. All she knew was that something plucked at one of her senses, and she snapped to the side, narrowly evading a crossbow bolt. A second later, the boy who'd shot it touched down lightly from--a rooftop?
A Warden? Or just a bounty hunter? There might not be many of the latter in the city though, she realized; most would probably keep out of reach of the Shrine. But Wardens didn't wear any kind of insignia, like other Moon nin, so it was hard to say.
"I didn't do it!" she blurted, holding her hands up defensively, as if that would stop a trained ninja from obliterating her if he chose to. Then she winced, because it wasn't as if he was more likely to believe her than anyone else had been--even her own family hadn't believed her; why would he? "...I know that's what they all say," she added, feeling lame, "but, I really didn't."
The boy--no, young man? it was hard to tell, he was shorter than her, and his silver hair catching the moonlight didn't exactly make him look any older--had already lowered his crossbow. In fact, as she watched, astonished, he took several steps to the side, retrieved the bolt that had clattered to the ground, and tucked it and the crossbow away.
"I figured as much," he said, neutrally. "Something wasn't adding up. And if you were guilty, you would have attacked me by now." He shrugged, as if to indicate he wasn't particularly concerned about her making the attempt, which made her feel all sorts of competent right now. "Pretty sure a lot of this is someone's plan. So I suppose the question is: who has enough of a grudge to do this to you, or are you just a convenient patsy?"
His voice was smooth, definitely late teenage, but cultured. She wouldn't be surprised if he could sing, either--and well, to boot. She stared at him at a minute, at a loss for words briefly even as her mind worked. A grudge? Not likely.
"I...I guess, probably the second one," she said slowly. "...but they did it really well, even my family believes it."
He made a 'hmm' noise. "All right then. I suppose the real question is who would gain from that bout of arson down south. You were probably just a convenient pyrokinetic...are you sure you don't have anyone who might frame you up? Someone with connections? It would make this easier."
Fumiko shook her head. "I can't think of anyone. Might it be someone who dislikes my family, or the man who was killed?"
He considered this. "Certainly possible. Either way, the next move is obvious."
"...Obvious?" Was he going to turn her in after all? She had no illusions about her ability to fight her way past a ninja.
"Oh, yes." There was a ghost of a smile on his face. "I'm going to get you a disguise, and we're going to head down to the scene of the crime--or crimes, rather--and start talking to people. Get to the bottom of this."
She reeled. Disguise? Go investigate? For me? But... "Why?"
"Isn't it obvious?" That faint smile was still etched into his face. "I don't like leaving a mystery unsolved."