So this is bliss, or something close to it, thought Takaki Enjeru as he methodically swept a fine-grit honing stone along the curved edge of his sabre. The sound of stone sliding against metal to sharpen it was positively melodic, and doubly so in the tranquility of the early morning. He held the weapons delicately by the blade, with the aid of a polishing rag, of course. It would not do to get his skin oils on the metal, where oxidation would tarnish the fine finish if unattended for a time. Maintaining and polishing his rather large collection of weaponry was something of a morning ritual for the young mednin, and it was one of the only times in which he could lose himself within his own thoughts.
In his lap, a fat black cat stretched and purred, sinking its claws into the skin of his thigh through his pants. It was typical cat behavior, called “kneading,” and it was a sign that the creature was happy, but Enjeru always disliked it, mainly because it was kind of painful. Saeko, his sister, was always nagging at him to trim the damned thing’s claws, but he had a moral objection to taking away his pet’s natural weaponry, as it were.
“Stop that!” hissed Enjeru to the cat as he shifted his position to try to get the creature to cease kneading on him. Very few shinobi in the village actually kept a feline as a pet – the majority favored canines, or birds, or even reptiles, as those creatures were often thought of as more martial in nature than lazy cats. But Enjeru knew that cats were at least an A-rank danger beast in the wild, and that they were one of only a handful of creatures that killed not for food, but for fun. Still, this particular one he kept was an utter failure as a mouser. Rolling his eyes at the creature as it looked up at him and mewed, he wiped the side of his blade on its fur in annoyance. At least it was a decent oilrag, if nothing else!
“Onii-
chan!” trilled a lilting female voice in his ear, causing him to start. He whipped his head around to face the smiling face of his sister, Saeko. She had made one of her rare visits back to the village from her normal duty post in the Kagoshiman capital city, and was staying with her family for the time being – or at least, what was left of it.
Ah yes, right now the immediate Takaki family consisted of Enjeru, Saeko, and their father, the Main Branch Sennin of Kumogakure: Masao. Their mother had been Santaru Rin, the head of the ANBU, but she had committed suicide and left them. Her stated reason had been to absorb the blame for the actions of her subordinate, Takayama Shimada – Enjeru suspected that it was really just done to piss everyone off.
His father, Masao, was absolutely inscrutable these days – no one knew for sure how he was taking the death of his childhood friend and wife of almost twenty years. So far, neither Enjeru nor Saeko had attempted to talk with the old man about it – they both knew that they’d get a noncommittal and guarded response that could range from an idiosyncratic offer to take them out for ice cream to a brushing. But then again, neither of the children were really taking the news as one might expect, anyway.
For all of Santaru Rin’s professional accomplishments, she had been an absentee mother at best, and perhaps rather damaging at worst. She had never let them starve, nor really beaten them, nor chided them overly much – in fact, she had never really been
there in the children’s lives. Motherhood, and all of its parts, had been a duty to her like any other. It was something she was adequate at, but never really passionate about. Any feelings of filial piety that the children might have had were quickly replaced by an overriding ambivalence that only grew stronger when they eventually joined the shinobi academy and left the town of Inaba where they had spent the first decade of their lives. When news of her death reached them, all Enjeru could really do was shrug in response.
“Uggh, Saeko. What if I’d had a bolter in my hand? I could’ve splattered your silly gray matter all over the place,” sighed Enjeru, setting the sabre down on a nearby work bench.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your beloved imouto, Enjy,” said the girl, rolling her eyes.
“You’re not my beloved imouto. You’re godrotting annoying,” retorted Enjeru.
“So sulky! What’s going on with you? You having girl problems again?” teased Saeko.
“Uggh, you’re one to talk. I hear you’re fucking one of father’s assassins behind his back.”
“Don’t put it so crudely, hentai-nii-chan. Jo-kun actually knows how to talk to girls, unlike you.”
“Yeah, and he’s going to get the haircut of his life from father because of
you. I hope you like a guy a head shorter than usual. Look, why are you bothering me right now? Don’t you like sleeping in?” asked Enjeru, crossing his arms.
“
I think a crew-cut makes a man look more virile. Anyway, yes, I was rudely interrupted by one of the couriers, who had the audacity to wake
me up for a message for
you,” said Saeko, punching him in the shoulder.
“Oh god, what now?” growled Enjeru.
“Your amazingly evil boss wants you to go to some village that’s infected by plague or whatnot. He’s expecting you at the gates right about…now. Have fun! I’ll have onigiri ready for you when you come home! Love you, onii-chan!” said Saeko, laughing as she turned and headed back to her room.
“Uggh,” was all Enjeru could say as he rose from his seat and dusted the cat hairs off of his lap.
Later
Enjeru wearily trudged to the gates, rolling his eyes at everything he saw. Some village suffering from plague, was it?
If the locals would stop shitting in the river, then they wouldn’t all have dysentery. The bullshit I go through for the sake of public health, he thought angrily. He adjusted his load-bearing gear for comfort. Inside various pouches were all of the usual medical supplies – shears, bandages, masks, airway devices, tourniquets, and a complement of drugs in autoinjectors. The usual combat load of morphine and epinephrine, coupled with various antibiotics and antihelminthics, as well as the “oh fuck oh shit” cocktail of atropine and pralidoxime to be used in case people started dropping from a nerve agent. As usual, he was also prepared for combat – the 10mm Delta Elite pistol bolter on his waist and the two folding swords in a sling on his back were his favorite to deal with dangerous game, whether animal or human.
The rest of the team was assembling. So far, it looked like Snakewoman and two oversized dogs, some priestess, and of course, that
one intern who never washed his hair. What was his name? Kacey? Krappy? Kagemaru? Enjeru sighed, rubbing his brow. He did not bother to introduce himself.
