Somewhere, deep in the mountains of Japan, rested a quiet, traditional village. Unmarked on any map, the only people who knew it was there were the ones who already lived there.

Espionage, on personal and corporate levels.

An entire village populated by professional infiltrators, trained to enter locations, retrieve information, exit without ever leaving a trace and, if things somehow went south, were experts in hand-to-hand and weapon-based combat as a last resort. The world knew of their existence, but none could find where they were. A mysterious community that hid in plain sight, the people around them unaware of their very presence. The world had a name for them. A name that they had been given many, many years ago. A name that had stuck with them through the ages, from classic periods to the modern era.

Ninja.

Though the village was largely traditional, many modern aspects managed to find their way in. One such aspect was a small, two-story house that sat near the edge of the town. Built almost entirely of wood, the house stood out from most of the others around it, if only due to the fact that the others around it were only one-story.

While they were trained for stealth infiltration and spying, it was generally frowned upon for the townsfolk to do so to one another. If one were so inclined at this particular moment, however, and listened closely, one could hear the soft thumps of a pair of bodies landing roughly on a mattress on the second floor. Sharp ears could also hear a pair of groans come from said bodies as they were muffled by said mattress and the small handful of pillows surrounding them.

"I hate my life sometimes." One, a girl in her late teens, said. Her raven hair, which she normally wore in a ponytail to keep it out of her face while training, cascaded and covered most of her body. Her training uniform was a darker brown than normal, with dirt covering virtually every inch of her body. Wet patches where water and sweat met glued the fabric to her skin. The tape that usually covered her hands and her feet were tattered and undone.

"At least you're used to this, Ibuki." The other girl answered. Unlike her partner, she kept her blue hair in its ponytail, though. Her uniform was in a similar state of distress, but with an additional feature. The face mask she typically wore atop her head were tossed haphazardly into a corner, a thin film of dirt and scattered water spots covering it. "I'm pretty sure I'm sore in places I never knew could be sore."

"You'll get used to it."

Sarai turned her head to face her friend. "Really?"

"Yeah."

A few seconds of silence passed.

"You lied to me, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

Sarai groaned, digging her face into a pillow to muffle her agony. More time passed, neither girl wanting to say anything more, lest they risk starting a conversation. Starting a conversation would've been bad for the two of them. It would mean that they'd end up getting into whatever topic they started in on, which would lead to at least one of them wanting to make her feelings known at some point. When it got to that point, she'd end up moving, and the second she did, an unpleasant reminder of that morning's training regimen would make an unwelcome appearance in the bedroom.

The idea of talking caused Ibuki to wince a bit. Knowing the way she and her best friend were, both of them were likely to get at least a little animated with whatever topic they came up with.

Muffled sounds came from the girl to her side. For a second, Ibuki weighed out the risks of asking Sarai what she'd said versus just laying there and giving her body some much needed rest. In the end, curiosity won out over laziness. She turned her head just slightly; just enough so that she'd be able to speak clearly.

"What was that?"

It took a second for a response. Ibuki could hear her friend's slow breathing, simultaneously thinking that it made sense for Sarai to move considering how sore she was and how sore Sarai must've been and that her training was paying off in situations that she never thought she'd use it in. Sarai eventually rolled her head over, exposing a single eye and the corner of her lip.

"I said, 'whoever came up with the idea of Saturday morning training sessions is evil and needs to be thrown in jail'."

Ibuki giggled a bit, trying to ignore the instant regret of doing so. "Yeah. Well, with you it can't be helped. You've got years of Ninja training to get caught up on. Weekend training's the only way the Master can get you up to speed with the rest of us."

"I guess. Still, though, if I'd known that Ninja training would be so painful, I probably would've passed."

"Yeah, but then the Master probably would've had you, I dunno, kidnapped or something."

Sarai frowned at that. "Elena and Makoto made it out just fine."

"Yeah, but that's because Elena went back home for the summer and the Master isn't interested in kicking off international incidents, and Makoto would probably bust out of here and cause a ton of damage."

"And apparently I'm worth a felony?"

Ibuki shrugged slightly. "If it makes you feel any better, me vouching for you really convinced him not to do it."

"Ninjas are weird."

"You're telling' me."

Sarai fully turned over, wincing slightly as she did. "Hey, do you have cable TV?"

Ibuki frowned, looking at the TV perched on top of a dresser on the other side of the room. "No, it was a big enough job trying to convince the Master to let me bring a cell phone into the village. There's no way I could convince him to let me get a decent TV package to go with it."

"Can you do me a couple of favors?"

"Depends. What's in it for me?"

"I'll let you pick the rewards. First, cut the sarcasm."

Ibuki's frown softened. "Sorry."

"Forgiven. Second, pass me the remote. My favorite show's starting soon."

Now that might've been asking for a bit much. Even though she'd had some time to relax, there was still some residual soreness. Doing something as physically risky as reaching for a remote that could've been anywhere in the room, even though she knew for a fact that it was on the floor on her side of the bed, didn't seem worth the result of letting her friend watch whatever Saturday morning show she seemed dead-set on watching.

Well, dead-set to an exhausted extent.

After another incredibly brief mental debate, the decision was made to retrieve said remote, because eh, what the heck? All she had to do was stretch her arm over the edge of the bed and try to get it as quickly as possible. Even though she'd been training as a Ninja longer than Sarai had, her entire life versus a couple of months, her Master was a firm believer in the idea of no days off. She just had to hope that she could make the grab before-

Yep, there it was. Ibuki cringed into her pillow again, her arm screaming something to her brain about just barely being able to contain the fire that burned her muscles, thanks for letting it get out of control again.

Thankfully, it was only half a moment later before her fingers danced around the small plastic magic wand. With a quick set of hand and wrist motions, the remote was grabbed, flung into the air, and dropped onto the bed between the two girls. Sarai, probably faster than she should have, spun around in place, sat up and turned the TV on.

"Eh, it's a couple of minutes early, but it'll be fine."

Ibuki matched her friend's actions, looking to see what her friend was wanting to watch. She managed to catch what her cable provider's channel guide displayed before it disappeared.

"WMAC? What's that?"

A small smile danced across Sarai's lips. "It's a cool show. Martial artists from around the world compete in a tournament."

"Really?" Ibuki asked, raising an eyebrow. "So it's like the World Warrior Tournament?"

"Not really. It's a weekly thing, for one. There isn't any sort of cash prize that I'm aware of."

Before she could continue her explanation, the show in question started, prompting Sarai to increase the volume on the TV.

"They're the world's greatest martial artists!"

A brief montage with triumphant music played on screen, various action shots showing tons of punches, kicks and flips accompanying it.

"Competing for the ultimate prize!"

Ibuki frowned stiffly. "This looks super fake."

"Yeah, it's all rehearsed, but it looks cool."

The show's announcer started a brief roll call, with each named character getting a quick action shot. Ibuki and Sarai watched quietly, the latter with her eyes glued to the while the former stiffened her frown in an attempt to keep it from shifting into something else. The two watched on as the sequence finished. The program showed a shot of an indoor arena. A small audience cheered as the show's announcer began explaining the setup for the current episode.

"Hm." Ibuki said. "Not sure I'm sold on it yet."

Ibuki phased out early, the voice of the man on the magic box blurring into unintelligible noise. It wasn't until couple of minutes later, when what some would generously call a "backstage scene" started, that a surprisingly loud and high-pitched squeal brought her back to the land of the living. Sarai sat with her lower jaw nearly touching the bed and a finger pointed accusingly at the screen. Ibuki looked at what had Sarai so shocked, only to see a girl who looked incredibly familiar on screen talking with a few other people in the room. One ignored the question she was asked, instead opting to lightly shoulder her way past the new girl.

With a look between anger and jealousy, Sarai turned to see said friend grinning at her like a madwoman.

"Explain, now."

The TV was forgotten at this point, the show's episode for playing for nobody in the room. The smile never left Ib's lips, despite the look Sarai was giving her.

"Would you believe me if I said I'd gotten a TV contract after the last World Warrior Tournament?"

"No. Not for a second."

"Eh, fair enough. Well, it started when I was called out for a mission a few months ago..."