"Your what was stolen?"
"My painting equipment," her aunt (well, technically second cousin once removed) Kiku said, wringing her hands and looking distressed. "I was out repainting the designs on the outer walls of the compound, went in for a moment to refill my water, and when I came back it was all gone!"
The designs on the outer walls, meaning the pale blue entwined vines and flowers that wove around intricate abstract patterns which marked the compound out as the Tsurara family's. They were repainted every year like clockwork, keeping them sharp and vivid and not letting them fade much. Moriko wasn't sure how long that would be viable for, considering as paint didn't take up net zero width, but that sounded like a problem for the future.
Kiku was one of the non-combatants in the clan, meaning she was tasked with things such as the painting and raising the children rather than guarding the compound and maintaining the weapons range. Moriko paid her minor attention due to the fact she was one of the very few clan adults who didn't seem intent on pushing her into an arranged marriage agreement. Meaning that she was someone worthy of being helped.
Plus the painting had to happen or everyone would fuss, and few people were capable of kicking up a fuss like the Tsurara clan elders. Particularly when it was about petty garbage.
"Okay, that's..." Moriko wracked her brains for who would even bother. "Where was it exactly? Was there anything left there?"
"Around the corner by the southern entrance," Kiku said, pointing in that direction. The back entrance, as it were. "I don't know who would've, but I don't remember seeing anything there?"
Fantastic.
"All right, I'll have a look," she said.
"Be careful, don't hesitate to call in help," Kiku said, glancing around. "I'm fairly sure it's a petty prank--what else would it be? But I don't know."
"I'll keep that in mind," Moriko said absently, already plotting. She didn't know which of her combat-capable cousins would be up for this kind of assistance, and that would make it no longer her mission, but. If it did pan out as dangerous, then better safe than sorry.
She didn't bother with reassurances, instead just making sure her aunt saw her coming out of her own house well-armed, which did seem to make her relax. Then Moriko headed out through the southern exit.
It was easy to find the spot where it must have happened since the paint on the wall was not quite fully done drying yet and cast a slight sheen in the mid-morning sun, already high and hot. She cast her gaze downward to the ground, inspecting the area for sandy footprints on the stone walkways or anything else, and hit paydirt with light blue flecks.
Paint. Someone had been running and not cleaning up.
Moriko kept a hand on her bow as she followed the paint. There were dots here and there, as if someone were fleeing rapidly. After the fifth such patch and a turn into territory she didn't go into often, she stopped, called herself and idiot, and backed out to duck into an alcove.
Why would someone steal paint equipment from a ninja clan? If you wanted that kind of thing for itself, you would raid a supply store or stall in the market. This was a lure. The question was: who for? So many of her relatives were ninja that there might be any number of enemies, and Moriko would in such an affair count as little more than a hostage.
Or it could be for her.
Which made more sense, on reflection. If the thief was aiming to draw in one of her cousins they would have grabbed Kiku, not her painting tools. The only reason to go after the paintbrushes and such was that you couldn't grab an adult, even a non-ninja with no real physical prowess. Which meant you were likely a child, or children.
Which meant that the rest of the gang that Moriko had fought previously had worked out who'd killed some of their people. And instead of backing off, they were trying to save face by getting back. They might be trying to lure her in, beat her up to 'teach her a lesson.'
Well. No to all of that.
Moriko thought the solution was fairly simple, however. Now that she knew it was a trap...
She formed rapid handseals, selecting one of the most basic jutsu in a ninja's arsenal. She didn't have a specific person to mimic, and wasn't bothered to try, so she picked a few things about her physical appearance to alter and in a puff of smoke, there was a preteen boy standing there instead.
The differences weren't as wild as if she'd had a person to copy from, obviously. Significantly taller (as far as Moriko was concerned), same build, same eyes. White hair that was done in a semi-messy way, uncaring as to who saw it. And hopefully, hopefully a voice change to match.
"Testing," Moriko said very lowly, and then smiled; exactly like a young boy.
The logic was simple: the gang from before had no ninja, so none of them would be able to see through a Transformation. Moriko could go in and get the drop on them--possibly with a fight, possibly with just sneaking in and out.
So it was that anyone theoretical watching would've seen a young white-haired boy with deep indigo eyes wander down an alley seemingly aimlessly, seemingly unarmed. No ninja here, no sir. Definitely no little blue-haired girls either.
This was...actually quite comfortable, Moriko thought. More than could be expected. Not something for all the time, but it didn't feel weird. Supposedly Tranformation as the opposite sex could often make people feel weird, albeit that might have been a rumour, but not here.
Let's just go with 'boy' for now, then. It'll enhance the authenticity of my acting.
He continued to 'aimlessly' wander, following the blue specks of paint out the corner of his eye. When he was well and thoroughly lost, he heard, "What're you doing here?"
Moriko turned and gave the boy there his best approximation of a confused look. "Being lost, mostly."
Exit strategy says what?
"Uh-huh." The kid questioning him was fairly large, not just tall like Moriko's current form but also muscled, with short-cropped black hair and a threatening posture. "Well, go back the way you came."
"I don't know which way that is," he prevaricated. There was a flash of movement out the corner of his eye that he automatically tracked. Hostiles.
"Right." The boy cracked his knuckles and stepped forward in a clear attempt to be menacing. Moriko didn't twitch. "Why do I not believe you? I bet you're one of those ninja kids from a few weeks ago who killed our buddies."
"That's rough," Moriko said, not twitching, "but you can't blame every random stranger for your problems."
"Is it the boy or the girl?" one of the three leaner gang members who had darted up the alley asked.
"Probably the boy, a girl's not going to disguise herself as a boy," another said.
"Yeah, but we've got the bait for the girl like right here..."
The painting tools! Yes, there was the paint can, protruding from behind a garbage pail, lid sealed to avoid sloshing and a stronger trail, the handle of one brush just visible.
(Also, were they trying to bait Tsukiya out at the same time? Really dumb, but where was he then?)
"Really?" Moriko said with a sigh. "Bait, theft, traps, ambushes, and you're the good ones? Okay."
"It's not about that. It's about rep." The large boy still appeared to be trying to intimidate him, which he had yet to grasp was a lost cause. "We can't just let some rich kids get away with punking us."
"Ahhh." Moriko nodded. "Okay, so I'll be taking those back now? Either you can move, or I can go through you. What would that do for your 'rep'?"
"Come off it," he said. "Four on one? You're dream--"
He was cut off mid-sentence by an ice needle going through his throat. Moriko's reflexes might not have been anywhere near a properly trained ninja, but he was at least twice as fast as these idiots.
Unfortunately that wasn't entirely enough to avoid being clocked by one of them in such a small area in a now three-on-one, but all it really did was knock the Transformation down and let her take advantage of their moment of surprise it was her to blast two of them with a cloud of ice particles that dug into their faces and made them bleed, followed directly by hopping back a few paces and drawing.
Two arrows, both of them down. Where was the last one...?
"Behind you!"
Moriko whirled and smacked her bow against the one that had been trying to sneak up on her before kiting backward and pulling another arrow. At this range, it would have been harder not to hit him dead on.
"Thanks," she said to Tsukiya, who had just leapt down from a roof above the alley. "You too?"
"Yes." He didn't look unhappy, mind, but rather smugly satisfied as he spun and sheathed a knife. "I thought you might want a hand, but it looks like the only thing you might need a hand with is retrieving your arrows."
"Wouldn't mind a hand with the things I'm here to get, either," she said with a sigh, gesturing to the painting equipment.
"...You paint?" The look on his face was almost comically surprised.
"They're not mine. Family thing." She shrugged, and was even more amused when his expression levelled out again. "It's not heavy, but it's awkward. Can I ask...?"
"Cassette player," he said laconically. She nodded. "There were four of them for me too. How many do you think are left?"
"Does it matter?" she asked rhetorically, pulling one of her arrows out of the throat it had gone into and wiping the blood off on the body's clothes.
"I suppose not, if they're all this caliber." He stepped down the alley and went for the can as she finished gathering arrows. "Is one of your family painting their house?"
"Outer wall murals," she said with a sigh. "A pain. Oh well. Experience is experience."
"Live fire exercises have much to recommend them," Tsukiya agreed. "I think this will cement to your family as me being allowed in whenever, no?"
"As long as you don't tell anyone I'm already killing people," Moriko said, hefting her quiver and going for the paint tray and brushes, "you're already there."
[Word Count: 1893]
"My painting equipment," her aunt (well, technically second cousin once removed) Kiku said, wringing her hands and looking distressed. "I was out repainting the designs on the outer walls of the compound, went in for a moment to refill my water, and when I came back it was all gone!"
The designs on the outer walls, meaning the pale blue entwined vines and flowers that wove around intricate abstract patterns which marked the compound out as the Tsurara family's. They were repainted every year like clockwork, keeping them sharp and vivid and not letting them fade much. Moriko wasn't sure how long that would be viable for, considering as paint didn't take up net zero width, but that sounded like a problem for the future.
Kiku was one of the non-combatants in the clan, meaning she was tasked with things such as the painting and raising the children rather than guarding the compound and maintaining the weapons range. Moriko paid her minor attention due to the fact she was one of the very few clan adults who didn't seem intent on pushing her into an arranged marriage agreement. Meaning that she was someone worthy of being helped.
Plus the painting had to happen or everyone would fuss, and few people were capable of kicking up a fuss like the Tsurara clan elders. Particularly when it was about petty garbage.
"Okay, that's..." Moriko wracked her brains for who would even bother. "Where was it exactly? Was there anything left there?"
"Around the corner by the southern entrance," Kiku said, pointing in that direction. The back entrance, as it were. "I don't know who would've, but I don't remember seeing anything there?"
Fantastic.
"All right, I'll have a look," she said.
"Be careful, don't hesitate to call in help," Kiku said, glancing around. "I'm fairly sure it's a petty prank--what else would it be? But I don't know."
"I'll keep that in mind," Moriko said absently, already plotting. She didn't know which of her combat-capable cousins would be up for this kind of assistance, and that would make it no longer her mission, but. If it did pan out as dangerous, then better safe than sorry.
She didn't bother with reassurances, instead just making sure her aunt saw her coming out of her own house well-armed, which did seem to make her relax. Then Moriko headed out through the southern exit.
It was easy to find the spot where it must have happened since the paint on the wall was not quite fully done drying yet and cast a slight sheen in the mid-morning sun, already high and hot. She cast her gaze downward to the ground, inspecting the area for sandy footprints on the stone walkways or anything else, and hit paydirt with light blue flecks.
Paint. Someone had been running and not cleaning up.
Moriko kept a hand on her bow as she followed the paint. There were dots here and there, as if someone were fleeing rapidly. After the fifth such patch and a turn into territory she didn't go into often, she stopped, called herself and idiot, and backed out to duck into an alcove.
Why would someone steal paint equipment from a ninja clan? If you wanted that kind of thing for itself, you would raid a supply store or stall in the market. This was a lure. The question was: who for? So many of her relatives were ninja that there might be any number of enemies, and Moriko would in such an affair count as little more than a hostage.
Or it could be for her.
Which made more sense, on reflection. If the thief was aiming to draw in one of her cousins they would have grabbed Kiku, not her painting tools. The only reason to go after the paintbrushes and such was that you couldn't grab an adult, even a non-ninja with no real physical prowess. Which meant you were likely a child, or children.
Which meant that the rest of the gang that Moriko had fought previously had worked out who'd killed some of their people. And instead of backing off, they were trying to save face by getting back. They might be trying to lure her in, beat her up to 'teach her a lesson.'
Well. No to all of that.
Moriko thought the solution was fairly simple, however. Now that she knew it was a trap...
She formed rapid handseals, selecting one of the most basic jutsu in a ninja's arsenal. She didn't have a specific person to mimic, and wasn't bothered to try, so she picked a few things about her physical appearance to alter and in a puff of smoke, there was a preteen boy standing there instead.
The differences weren't as wild as if she'd had a person to copy from, obviously. Significantly taller (as far as Moriko was concerned), same build, same eyes. White hair that was done in a semi-messy way, uncaring as to who saw it. And hopefully, hopefully a voice change to match.
"Testing," Moriko said very lowly, and then smiled; exactly like a young boy.
The logic was simple: the gang from before had no ninja, so none of them would be able to see through a Transformation. Moriko could go in and get the drop on them--possibly with a fight, possibly with just sneaking in and out.
So it was that anyone theoretical watching would've seen a young white-haired boy with deep indigo eyes wander down an alley seemingly aimlessly, seemingly unarmed. No ninja here, no sir. Definitely no little blue-haired girls either.
This was...actually quite comfortable, Moriko thought. More than could be expected. Not something for all the time, but it didn't feel weird. Supposedly Tranformation as the opposite sex could often make people feel weird, albeit that might have been a rumour, but not here.
Let's just go with 'boy' for now, then. It'll enhance the authenticity of my acting.
He continued to 'aimlessly' wander, following the blue specks of paint out the corner of his eye. When he was well and thoroughly lost, he heard, "What're you doing here?"
Moriko turned and gave the boy there his best approximation of a confused look. "Being lost, mostly."
Exit strategy says what?
"Uh-huh." The kid questioning him was fairly large, not just tall like Moriko's current form but also muscled, with short-cropped black hair and a threatening posture. "Well, go back the way you came."
"I don't know which way that is," he prevaricated. There was a flash of movement out the corner of his eye that he automatically tracked. Hostiles.
"Right." The boy cracked his knuckles and stepped forward in a clear attempt to be menacing. Moriko didn't twitch. "Why do I not believe you? I bet you're one of those ninja kids from a few weeks ago who killed our buddies."
"That's rough," Moriko said, not twitching, "but you can't blame every random stranger for your problems."
"Is it the boy or the girl?" one of the three leaner gang members who had darted up the alley asked.
"Probably the boy, a girl's not going to disguise herself as a boy," another said.
"Yeah, but we've got the bait for the girl like right here..."
The painting tools! Yes, there was the paint can, protruding from behind a garbage pail, lid sealed to avoid sloshing and a stronger trail, the handle of one brush just visible.
(Also, were they trying to bait Tsukiya out at the same time? Really dumb, but where was he then?)
"Really?" Moriko said with a sigh. "Bait, theft, traps, ambushes, and you're the good ones? Okay."
"It's not about that. It's about rep." The large boy still appeared to be trying to intimidate him, which he had yet to grasp was a lost cause. "We can't just let some rich kids get away with punking us."
"Ahhh." Moriko nodded. "Okay, so I'll be taking those back now? Either you can move, or I can go through you. What would that do for your 'rep'?"
"Come off it," he said. "Four on one? You're dream--"
He was cut off mid-sentence by an ice needle going through his throat. Moriko's reflexes might not have been anywhere near a properly trained ninja, but he was at least twice as fast as these idiots.
Unfortunately that wasn't entirely enough to avoid being clocked by one of them in such a small area in a now three-on-one, but all it really did was knock the Transformation down and let her take advantage of their moment of surprise it was her to blast two of them with a cloud of ice particles that dug into their faces and made them bleed, followed directly by hopping back a few paces and drawing.
Two arrows, both of them down. Where was the last one...?
"Behind you!"
Moriko whirled and smacked her bow against the one that had been trying to sneak up on her before kiting backward and pulling another arrow. At this range, it would have been harder not to hit him dead on.
"Thanks," she said to Tsukiya, who had just leapt down from a roof above the alley. "You too?"
"Yes." He didn't look unhappy, mind, but rather smugly satisfied as he spun and sheathed a knife. "I thought you might want a hand, but it looks like the only thing you might need a hand with is retrieving your arrows."
"Wouldn't mind a hand with the things I'm here to get, either," she said with a sigh, gesturing to the painting equipment.
"...You paint?" The look on his face was almost comically surprised.
"They're not mine. Family thing." She shrugged, and was even more amused when his expression levelled out again. "It's not heavy, but it's awkward. Can I ask...?"
"Cassette player," he said laconically. She nodded. "There were four of them for me too. How many do you think are left?"
"Does it matter?" she asked rhetorically, pulling one of her arrows out of the throat it had gone into and wiping the blood off on the body's clothes.
"I suppose not, if they're all this caliber." He stepped down the alley and went for the can as she finished gathering arrows. "Is one of your family painting their house?"
"Outer wall murals," she said with a sigh. "A pain. Oh well. Experience is experience."
"Live fire exercises have much to recommend them," Tsukiya agreed. "I think this will cement to your family as me being allowed in whenever, no?"
"As long as you don't tell anyone I'm already killing people," Moriko said, hefting her quiver and going for the paint tray and brushes, "you're already there."
[Word Count: 1893]