Many of you may notice that I get mysteriously lazy toward the end of this chapter, and I apologize greatly for that. It's not my fault I am all too impatient with myself.

Anyway, R&R, so I can get a little help with this stuff. I don't know how well I'm doing.

TACTICAL ASSAULT

She approached him wearily, wearing a false expression of happiness on the tight curves of her face. As he turned toward her, he smiled and drew her up into himself in a warm, tight embrace and quietly kissed her head. They seemed to disappear from all existence in that moment, and after it seemed all was gone with only the two of them there, he finally told her, "I love you." Clinging tighter, as if it would suppress her sorrows, she hid her face in his bosom. He lovingly, gently held her against him, and together, they melted into each other, their feelings, emotions, longing desires and heartfelt sympathies entwining into this idea they'd named "true love."

And it was.

Quietly, he kissed her head again, which drew the tears from her weary eyes that indicated her heart was disturbed. "I know you're troubled." His words were always so full of comfort, but today, that soothing sensation couldn't calm her uneasiness.

These words, so full of a now empty compassion and understanding ("Nothing can ease this pain . . ."), made it all the more difficult to hide her raging emotions. She took a deep, jagged breath, breathing him into her and trying to explain this difficult situation without becoming too overwhelmed. In a comforting attempt he again pressed her close and stroked her back. "Father's intentions are wrong," she half-growled, half-sobbed. "He has no right to sell me off like this—giving me to some man I don't know and absolutely will never love. I don't know where he comes off with so much authority as to sacrifice his oldest daughter to a complete stranger—"

He was somewhat shocked, yet took the words as words of someone severely wronged and disturbed and in need of much more help than he. What she spoke of, of course, dealt greatly with him, and he knew there was not much he could do. He was only a poor boy, after all, and not likely to earn the hand in marriage of this high family's daughter. He could never support a family, let alone himself. Perhaps she would be better off financially with another man—wealthier, but she could never truly be happy or safe or wanted in an unwanted marriage with another man. But, then again, she was entirely eligible for marriage. Furthermore, the village was poor and likely unable to repay this hired man's debt with money and, to not burn bridges made with his nation, she would be offered—no, sacrificed—to save this dying establishment. Whatever her father said in the village went, and there was nothing either could do about it.

How could this happen? They loved each other dearly! How dare anyone meddle in their affairs, attempting to break them from the bonds of love they so willingly shared and strengthened with each passing day! She could feel his heart beat heavily with anger and frustration within his slowly rising chest, and she sensed his pain for her and for what might become of them. Despite the anger and depression within him, however, he calmed his outer self and attempted to ease her pains, also.

"No one has the right to do this to us . . ." she sobbed into his chest again.

"They do," he breathed, showing some growing anxiety, "but no one ever said it was right." These words, of course, didn't comfort her, but then again, there wasn't much to do to comfort anyone in this situation. She'd been the target of her father's foolish decisions, and it wasn't going to be easy to correct this problem. All he could try to do was understand her, keep her close, help her know she was at least safe in his arms. I only wish I could let her know there was nothing to fear, no lies to face, no unjust decisions or ways to keep us apart. I only wish she could know that I am truly sorrowful and I mourn with her. I want her to know that no matter what happens, she'll be safe with whoever she'll remain with—but how can she possibly learn this when it is, in fact, not the truth, but a lie revealed out of security, protection, and care? And love?

Gently, he rested his cheek on her crown, across her dark, flowing hair and accented softness within her spirit.

He smiled warmly to show no fear or anxiety. And he cried.

There was a certain building in the vicinity of this village—about the center—that stood above all other buildings in close proximity to it. This opportunity provided for a great lookout around the central square, which was supposedly the area of the village where the bandits most often struck because this particular building, in the topmost floors, housed the prestigious Masamune family. Atop the building, looking out across one of the balconies, Iruka watched the dead town center in an array of boredom, just as he had for the past three nights, and nothing.

Something moved out of the corner of his peripheral vision. Looking to see what it was, he eyed, through a window across the way, a couple in a warm embrace. A somewhat sweet sight, he supposed. Two lovers trying to get by in the world, but . . . the world was so cruel. Their journey would not be easy. At this thought, he gained mental control of himself and immediately he turned away. He had no business in their matters, and he didn't want to wait around long enough to see what would happen next through the open window.

"I'm too nice. I can't believe I'm doing this," said Iruka to himself, rather frustrated at the course of events that had taken place these past few days. "I'm supposed to be relaxing, taking a break from working for once, but no, I had to go and mess up my entire schedule, and why? Because I'm too nice. That's why. I'm too nice to let this already dying village suffer." At least he was half-decent. And half-honest.

Well, the village was pretty desperate. And it's not like I was doing anything important . . . but it's not like I planned for this, either. I didn't bring any tools or anything, and these people can't exactly reimburse me, but these bandits aren't really ninja, either—or so says Hayake. How would he know, anyway? Didn't he say that he'd never had a bit of experience with ninja? It was possible that these "bandits" were actually chuunin, or something of the like. No matter, thought Iruka. If they were ninja, though, wouldn't they be attempting to make more damage, or at least keep themselves decently hidden? They're not ninja—just a few worthless, stupid bandits out trying to get their supposed "false" debt from this village.

And another thing: how did this village know these bandits wouldn't go for reinforcements after Iruka had beaten them once? Iruka wasn't all too secure knowing that this village might come back to him and ask him to save all their lives again. That would not be too entertaining, especially when he'd have to refuse them and burn the bridges he'd made with the nation. He pondered on that for a moment, allowing the ideas to fester in his mind until he found out what would result. Well, they were just bandits, a few worthless criminals out to get the small amount of money they were owed (Hayake himself claiming the debt was merely a small amount that was just out of reach for the village, anyway). These bandits, for one thing, must be really desperate if they were hunting down a sum of money that wasn't entirely worth this hassle. And, for another, if they ever did get the money, how would they split it more than three ways and satisfy all the people who would help them? It would amount to almost nothing, which would only send the filthy criminals to prison for cheating their aid out of a good payment. It wouldn't be worth it, unless they were really desperate—which was highly likely because of the trouble they were already causing to get it.

People are just stupid sometimes, Iruka thought.

So, this wouldn't be so difficult. They won't be expecting anyone with the skills I have to ill-fatedly happen upon them. It may not be that hard. Yeah, I'm just making a big deal out of it. I can take care of these guys easily, make sure they don't cause any other problems. And, even if I haven't really used my skills for a while, I'm sure they'll get me by—I'm pretty good with that. Besides, if I need any tools that badly, I'm pretty sure I can improvise. No problem . . .

"Oh, who am I kidding? Obviously not myself! This is going to be frustrating! I shouldn't have agreed to this! I've already wasted three good nights doing what? Just sitting here! " All Iruka could do now was wallow in his self-proclaimed misery and watch for any sign of bandits in the falling hours of night and early morning. He was overcome by a long streak of boredom, and he allowed his mind to wander in order to keep himself sane.

People are fools. For all I know, they're just a bunch of bored teens. Dumb kids. Iruka smiled to himself. "This might not be so bad. Complaining won't get me anywhere." It seemed a good attitude began to light the horizon, so he relaxed a little, decided to search the perimeter of the city. This area of his job was to hurriedly scan the perimeter using a few of his skills and obtain information about what was going on and who, if anyone, was inexplicably approaching. So boring. I was doing this sort of easy stuff as a genin.

Around the perimeter, another wave of patrol—nothing. For all I know, I'm just a fool who fell into somebody's trick. Frustrated once more, he retreated to the peak of the tallest building this village housed, sat back and waited again, annoyed. Recalling his previous words about complaining, he could only sigh in a tense relief and try to take his mind off what he'd reluctantly been assigned to do.

And another thing: what would this reward be? This humble port village had hardly any money, so that was out of the deal. But other than money, what could it possibly be? Something "great," as Hayake had said, but what could that be? Wasn't money really the only thing that could be offered? "I'll probably get ripped off . . . oh, well. Maybe it'll be free dinner whenever I want to come and visit the condo. At least it'll be something pretty good, I guess. Better than nothing, I guess . . ." Waiting a moment longer, he found himself lost in random thoughts of going back to school, waiting for Naruto to play some dumb prank, a new batch of bratty kids to teach . . . pretty much all the "important" stuff to Iruka. He obviously wasn't one to think of much else besides his time-consuming, life-monopolizing job and how wonderful it was, as it did often fester like a sore in his mind to think about it, yet it was something that couldn't go untreated; therefore, it was tended to often with the deepest of annoyance. Perhaps I could get another job? I could go back to being an anbu captain—though I'd be the oldest one on the squad, and therefore earn more students. Or, I could continue my training and become a jounin. I just might get paid a little more for missions like this—and I could take on a few students of my own and teach them how not to be stupid, bratty kids, but elite ninja. But . . . that would involve more students—though not as many as I teach now. Yeah, that might be nice, but I'm getting really sick of teaching those weird, immature kids . . . and—

He'd been wondering around too long, he realized, when his daydreaming was instantly cut short to the faint echo of footfall in the streets below. A bandit? Searching the streets quickly, he spotted a figure clad in black from head to toe (difficult to spot at this hour), hiding in the shadows cast by the clouds and moon, approach the side entrance to the building. Out of his pack, he pulled something, looked around, and began fiddling with the door. It is a bandit, he thought. No one in this village is out this late, because they're afraid—or so says Hayake. I'll just check it out . . . wouldn't that be embarrassing to attack a civilian?

As he was about to carry out his foolish action, he was brought to realize that this bandit wasn't alone. Footsteps were heard from above on the topmost area of the roof. Another bandit, and he'd surprisingly not seen Iruka. They've come to attack this building. This one's probably a lookout—so they are organized and have a specific accomplishment in mind. Iruka immediately gathered the remaining information he needed about the area: there were three bandits all together, the last one scaling the wall just below him. Their plan? From what he gathered, Iruka could only guess on the situation, concluding that the bandit on the ground level would keep an eye out from below, watching the streets and anyone who would near the building; the one atop the building would look out from above, watching for bodies approaching from a distance and warning the man on ground level of company (that's why he didn't see me—I was close by, and he was watching the further streets beyond the square through binoculars), which meant the man on ground level would also take care of that person and be wary of other conditions including the such; the final man, breaking his way into the Hayake residence, would do the dirty work. What that was, Iruka did not know, but he couldn't afford to dawdle any longer. He put his plan into action, taking care of the topmost lookout first—knowing that he'd surely spot Iruka on his way down the building if he were to take out the bottom guard first.

The man on the roof, through a series of taps against the microphone on his headset, confirmed the security of the premises. Nothing was coming from a distance, nothing was near the building at the moment, so all was well. He relaxed a little, speaking not a word, but remaining as silent as was humanly possible. This would be a breeze.

"'Evening," he suddenly heard from behind. Jumping up and turning around, he hardly thought his startle would have time to catch up with him, he reacted so quickly. He drew a knife, but not quick enough to evade the blow to his head. That was quick.

He was out cold. Iruka jumped up to the roof, allowing the useful shadow clone he'd created to dissipate into the cool, blowing air of this warm June night. That was easy, he told himself. Stupid bandits. After doing a rough analysis on the body, his hypothesis was confirmed: they're only mere bandits and have never had any ninja training. This would be too easy. So, to conclude the first objective of his mission, he used a rope the bandit carried to bind him into an immovable position and left the body to lay in a corner. Before Iruka left the rooftop, however, he gathered up the bandit's only weapon and headset. Now, to take care of the man doing the dirty work. Iruka had to be quick, as he was unsure how much time had actually passed and how much he actually had left before this one could do much damage.

With a great deal of work using chakra, Iruka managed to scale the wall and enter on the level below. The bandit had used a tool to cut the glass—which could also be used as a weapon, Iruka thought, warning himself—allowing himself to crawl in through the glass door. Using this new port, Iruka created a separated clone of himself, allowing for more help in seeking the bandit.

Which proved to be a bit thorny, actually. This might be a little difficult. Further frustrated, he lightly ran through hallways, thinking of what would happen if he'd proven a bit late. Results didn't look too stunning in his mind, so he figured he'd better find this bandit. Quickly. How far could he have gone in the three minutes he'd been spared? The answer came as a check to reality, and he quickened his pace. Where'd he gone? Who or what could he be trying to abduct?

Iruka, after catching a slight glimpse of a flash of black, screeched to a slower pace and took the corner. To ensure safety, he allowed his clone to precede him through the hallway and to the doorway on the end. A bedroom? Was he trying to capture someone? Or something? Iruka sent his clone in first to find out, while he waited on the ceiling near the doorway to eavesdrop on the situation.

The bandit was there. With an outreached hand, he was stealthily, yet quickly nearing the bed on the far side of the room. He was going to take whoever it was that slept in that bed and Iruka knew it had to be stopped. So, formulating a quick, sloppy plan, Iruka sent his shadow clone in for a distraction while Iruka entered and took him out from there.

Which went perfectly, except for the fact that there was a bit of a struggle, which created vocal rebellion that my have been heard by the watchman on the floor level. He would be here in a moment's time, and this time, Iruka had to be ready for him. With the rope the bandit so conveniently carried in his belt, he was bound by Iruka and relieved of all the weapons he carried, but it had slipped his mind to remove the glass cutter.

Iruka used chakra to attach himself to the ceiling and await the oncoming bandit. Would he try and complete the kidnapping? Would he just run away? Hopefully not, because if that were the result, Iruka would have to come back again and try to catch this guy, and that was the last thing he wanted to happen. Maybe it would be better for this person to be tried at being kidnapped.

He remained in the dark for another few minutes before a thumping came flying down the hall. For a bandit, he sure was noisy—but wait. If it was the bandit, he might try to conceal the rugged footsteps. Iruka poised himself to attack in case it was the bandit, yet readied himself to allow the civilian to pass through . . .

It was the bandit. Iruka allowed his own clone to appear from within the shadows as soon as the bandit was halfway to the bed. From this, Iruka predicted two outcomes: either the bandit would tuck tail and run to the door and into Iruka's ambush, or the bandit could attempt to resist the clone. Fat chance.

Turned out Iruka's latter guess proved faithful. Quickly picking out the surroundings in his mind, the bandit dove at his partner on the floor for the glass cutter to use as a spare weapon, which sent Iruka a thrill of fear at the fact that he'd forgotten to snatch those away from him. Only a minor setback, surely. As the bandit moved in toward the clone, holding a knife in one hand and the cutter in the other, he began a series of evasive attacks, yet was startled to discover that as soon as his attacks landed on the clone, it dissipated. Astonished, he looked around, and only above himself as Iruka was coming down upon him to deliver a solid kick to the head, which the bandit evaded. Lucky. Again, Iruka attempted to land a kick on this guys head, yet every time, he seemed to get just out of reach. I'm running low on chakra, Iruka feared. I can't keep this up much longer, I haven't done this in a while. Once more the attacks flew, and the bandit managed to knick Iruka with the knife, drawing a thin line of blood that wept through his shirt on his shoulder. I'm slowing down, he reminded himself. I've got to speed up, even if at least a little . . . maybe I misjudged these guy.

In a sudden thrust of adrenaline, Iruka managed to hammer the guy to the floor, and the cutter was knocked across the floor out of reach. His failing strength aided him in no means, as was discovered with the sudden turn of the tables as the bandit now pinned Iruka to the floor. The steely knife was being pressed closer to Iruka's neck as thoughts and ideas began flooding his mind.

I've been in situations like this before, I can get out. I can't die—there are all those kids counting on their teacher to come back and teach again. If only I could get those cutters . . . if only I'd been a little more careful on time and chakra, this wouldn't have happened.

I just need a quick boost—a break. I only need about three more seconds.

Even if I don't get rid of this guy, I may live, but I could never live with the fact that I let someone get kidnapped or raped or whatever when I could have stopped it. I need to save this person—

There was a certain sort of silence and calm in the air suddenly, and a nearly inaudible whrrr sailed through the air, abruptly causing the bandit to release Iruka from his grasp as he attended to his shoulder with a scream. My opportunity! thought Iruka, and with a swift kick and punch, the bandit was unconscious on the floor. Iruka sat back up, and in the pale moonlight, caught a glimpse of a woman's clothed figure standing near the bed. Had she brought him down? Yes, she'd thrown the cutter at the bandit's shoulder, giving Iruka barely enough time to take this man down.

She saved my life, he thought. For another moment, he looked at the girl. I need to thank her, at least. But just as he was going to open his mouth, she turned swiftly and ran from the room—was she crying? It sounded so, but why? She hadn't killed him, surely, but . . .

Who knew? Iruka sat perplexed and watched her fly down the hallway, her face in her hands as she aimlessly ran for immediate comfort.