Mission Report - Month Three

Developing leads; one to two months to completion - S

She's trying to kill me. I hate you - G

Laughing to himself, Kakashi incinerated the scrap of paper that an Anbu had dropped off in his office a few minutes earlier. The update didn't reveal much about the mission, but that wasn't unexpected in situations like this. Setsumi and Genma were well versed in the art of double speak when it came to composing updates. Their phrasing could indicate anything from marking a target to requesting an extraction, and anything in between.

The pair's word choices screamed subtext, however. Setsumi and Genma were making headway with their reconnaissance, but the developments weren't quick enough for either of them. It was no secret that they didn't get along, and after three months, their tempers had certainly flared. Kakashi would probably get an earful when Genma got back to Konoha. He'd owe the man a beer, or something stronger, when that day came.

Pushing that thought away, Kakashi dusted his hands off and looked around the office. It was late, but only an hour or so after the time he normally left. The stacks of paperwork that still littered the surface of his desk would be manageable enough on Monday, unless there was an emergency over the weekend. Kakashi expected that there would be; it seemed to happen on a regular basis. He'd grown used to the unpredictable during his time as Hokage. His attention was constantly pulled from one thing to another, most of which could have been handled by someone else.

Even now, Kakashi wasn't leaving the office because it was time to quit. He had another meeting to attend, though he didn't dread this one as much as the others. Picking up a thick sheaf of reports, he shoved them into his bag, removed the robes of office, and hung them on a hook behind his desk. He only wore the heavy white fabric when he had official business, but he'd been in meetings all day. The elders were annoyed at the price of expanding the medical training program, then they complained over the repair cost after an ambitious genin team destroyed several buildings in a training exercise. Taking off the robes felt like removing his responsibilities, at least for a little while.

Throwing his leather bag over one shoulder, Kakashi left his office without a backward glance. Dusk had settled on the village by the time he stepped into the streets, wrapping them with a cozy blanket of shadows. As he walked, Kakashi smiled and nodded whenever someone greeted him, though it seemed far too frequent for this time of evening. He had considered himself to be a well known jonin in Konoha, but Hokage was a whole different level of scrutiny.

Kakashi had started using shunshin to move around the village without being interrupted every five steps. He'd considered employing the jutsu this evening, but he wanted to ease the nervous energy that coursed through his body. He told himself that it came from being in the office all day, rather than having something to do with his current destination. Pausing outside one of the newer apartment buildings near the hospital, Kakashi climbed the stairs to the second floor. He turned left and made his way to apartment 203. It felt more familiar than it should have, considering he'd only been there once.

When Kakashi knocked, a voice called out from inside the apartment. "Come in. It's open."

"You do know that it's dangerous to leave your door unlocked, right?" Kakashi chided as he stepped into the apartment. The scent of pizza reached him, making his stomach grumble. He paused in the entry to remove his sandals. "Anyone could just walk in."

"Are you implying I can't protect myself if I need to?" Sakura came out of the kitchen and leaned her hip against the wall to level Kakashi with a stare. One eyebrow arched. "Or, are you suggesting that you're a danger to me?"

Chuckling, Kakashi shut the door behind him. "Neither? Both? I haven't decided yet."

Sakura snorted, but she smiled when she brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You're definitely a danger to me finishing work at a reasonable hour. You're late."

"Well, we could have done this in my office," Kakashi argued, following Sakura toward the small dining table. The woman took a seat on the far side and picked up a glass of pale wine. Papers were strewn around her chair, while an open pizza box waited on the corner. He squeezed into the sliver of space that she'd left for him with another soft laugh. "You know, or yours."

Deadly green eyes rose in a sharp glare for the second time. "We could have," Sakura agreed. "But, my apartment is more comfortable than either of our offices, and it's closer to the best restaurants."

Huffing at the thick strand of hair that refused to stay behind her ear, Sakura jerked her hair tie loose so that the tresses cascaded forward. Kakashi watched her, wondering how many times he'd seen Sakura complete that movement over the years. He'd never noticed how different she looked with her hair down rather than the way she normally wore it. Unaware of the scrutiny, Sakura pulled the waves into a messy bun at the base of her neck then picked up a piece of paper from the pile on her table.

As Kakashi's eyes drifted away from Sakura's hair, he realized that the woman was wearing grey sweatpants and a navy sweatshirt. The latter was oversized enough that it hung from one shoulder when she shrugged. Kakashi's brow furrowed. "You didn't work today?"

"I did, but I've been home for over an hour." Sakura straightened the papers in front of her into a more organized stack then raised her eyes back to Kakashi. "Did you miss the part where I mentioned that you were late?"

Warmth slid into Kakashi's cheeks at the gentle reprimand. "I'm sorry. Time gets away from me at the office sometimes. I've been in meetings all day, then I had a mission report to look over."

"It happens. Don't worry about it." Sakura waved a hand dismissively. She gestured toward the pizza at the edge of the table and the plate beside it. "Eat something. There's plenty for both of us."

Shoving the papers away, Sakura pushed her chair back. She carried her glass back to the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinet. "Do you want some wine? There's no way I'm making it through this without some alcohol in my system."

Kakashi laughed and dipped his head in the affirmative, eyeing Sakura's choice for dinner. The fact that she'd eat something so inherently unhealthy surprised him, but the crust was piled with vegetables so he supposed that it had some redeeming qualities. After pulling a piece of pizza onto the plate, Kakashi accepted the glass of wine that Sakura held out to him. He dipped his head in thanks, then leaned back with a smile. "You know, you got me in trouble earlier."

The pinkette moved back to her chair, pausing with one knee on the cushion as she swung her gaze toward Kakashi. "Why? What did I do?"

"The elders didn't like that we spent so much money to develop the new shinobi recruits for your medical plan," Kakashi started, lifting the slice of pizza from his plate to take a bite.

"Well, Elder Haikuri didn't seem to mind when those same students saved his life last month," Sakura grouched, annoyance sliding onto her features as easily as she slipped into her chair. "He's such a pompous ass. He would have died without them."

Kakashi made a soothing gesture as Sakura took a long pull of her alcohol. "I know, but they want us to spend less money on it."

Sakura glared at Kakashi over her glass then picked up her report from the table. She sighed. "I've been trying to find a way to tighten this budget for the past hour, and I'm no closer to seeing where we could cut back."

Nodding, Kakashi removed the matching paperwork from his bag. He skimmed the details, noting that his report had fewer grease stains from fingertips along the edges. "What if we recruited more civilian medics? The expense for the training is lower overall."

"Maybe," Sakura answered, running one finger down the page. "But, they aren't specialized for handling the injuries that come in after missions. It would lessen the civilian burden, true, but we have to be prepared with medical ninja as well."

Kakashi hummed in agreement, flipping to the same page as he made a counter argument for the number of each type of doctor. Their conversation flowed back and forth with ease, a constant give and take on the dozen or so issues that the elders had raised. Neither Kakashi nor Sakura noticed that the night grew deeper around them as they moved to the couch with the bottle of wine to finalize the details.

BREAK

Genma rolled his shoulders as he stared out at the rising sun. It had been a long, uneventful night, and he was thankful for it. Exhaling, he continued his circuit around the building that he'd been tasked with watching. No one would have known if he lazed around the front like most of the ruffians that passed for guards in this organization. But, Genma couldn't bring himself to complete a job halfway, even a fake one. He knew the building that he patrolled wasn't the most important to Gouu, it was a fringe outpost of some sort, but it was the only lead that they had.

"Seen anything?" The gruff voice hadn't startled Genma, but he pretended that it had. Hiding his shinobi reflexes was a constant battle between what his mind knew, and a body that had been trained to respond instantly. The man, Yokiro, had been working with Genma since his second week. He did his job efficiently and didn't ask any unnecessary questions. In another world, they might have been friends.

Genma shook his head in answer. "Nothing. You?"

Yokiro repeated the gesture, then dug into a pocket on his shirt. He offered a pack of cigarettes to Genma, but the shinobi declined. The almost familiar smell brought up memories of Asuma, an uncomfortable reminder of home that left an ache in his chest. Yokiro smoked nearly every chance he got, seeming to have an endless supply of the things secreted on his person the same way that Genma hid weapons. He tried to press the habit on his partner, but Genma had refused the temptation thus far.

With every day that Setsumi's new rules continued, the desire to give in to smoking increased. Genma was running out of ways to blow off steam that didn't violate her rules. Even so, he maintained his end of the bargain, for the most part. Setsumi might have banned having other women in the apartment, but she couldn't stop him from enjoying himself on the rare occasion that he had the place to himself. He was only human, after all.

Yokiro blew a ring of smoke into the sky and glanced at Genma from the corner of his eye before speaking. "I've actually been wanting to talk to you."

"Yeah?" Genma took a step closer to the man, then sank onto the low wall that surrounded the warehouse. "About what?"

Yokiro flicked some ash from the end of his cigarette as he watched their replacements approaching. He dipped his head in greeting to the pair, and the other men seemed to slow down. Genma felt an uncomfortable itchiness between his shoulders, like he'd stepped into a trap. He forced his posture to relax when Yokiro continued. "You've done well the past few weeks, and it's been noticed. Seems like you might be ready to move up."

Trying not to appear too eager, Genma tipped his head to the side to consider. Once an appropriate amount of time had passed, he hummed in agreement. "Move up, how?"

"In our organization," Yokiro clarified, emphasizing the final word in case Genma had any question. The man's eyes narrowed as he watched for a tell at the statement, but Genma kept his face blank. "The boss needs good guards around him, men like you."

Letting an easy smile appear on his lips, Genma nodded. Then, he reached up and brushed his fingertips across the thin scar that Setsumi's stitches had left on his chest. "Does moving up require another initiation?"

Yokiro laughed, tossing his cigarette to the ground and standing to crush it under one heel as their replacements continued up the road. "Nothing so dramatic. Mostly it will mean you'll be working at a different location."

Genma nodded, taking in the information while keeping his face impassive. This was it, their big break and opportunity to get home. "Does this mean I'll finally meet this boss I've heard so much about?"

When Yokiro didn't respond right away, Genma wondered if he'd overplayed his hand. His companion looked over the village without speaking, but Genma could read the tightness in his jaw that said that he was debating whether or not he wanted to say something. Then, Yokiro raised one shoulder in a shrug. "You'll meet him soon enough. He's been asking about you."

The warning bells in the back of Genma's mind were deafening, but he ignored them. If worse came to worst, he thought that he could take most of the men that he worked with in a fair fight. Not that life had given him many of those. Genma could probably take down at least four or five in an unfair fight. He pushed back into a standing position beside Yokiro. "Is that so?"

Nodding to the two men coming to take their places, Yokiro nodded. "Yeah, but it'll be a few days. There's some meetings he has to take care of first."

Nodding, Genma followed Yokiro back toward the village. As they walked, he studied the man with new eyes. Yokiro had been a part of Genma's welcome to Gouu's organization, but he had assumed that the man was a low level grunt trying to earn his stripes by roughing up the new guy. Now, he wondered if Yokiro had been attempting to assess his battle prowess all along. But, if Yokiro was higher than his appearance seemed, why was he working the same position as Genma each day?

"Listen," Yokiro whispered, interrupting Genma's thoughts. He moved close enough that voice wouldn't carry even though no people were within earshot. "I know that you're supposed to have the next two days off, but I could use your help with something tomorrow night."

Something in Yokrio's tone warned Genma that the invitation wasn't optional. This was a test, one that he couldn't refuse. At his sharp nod, Yokiro continued. "There's a meeting coming up, a testing of the waters, if you will. We could always use some extra security, and Gouu-sama would appreciate your help."

"Of course," Genma answered, hoping that his excitement didn't show in his face. This was it, they hadn't wasted the last two months of their lives. This was the break that Genma and Setsumi needed. "Get me the details, and I'll be there."

BREAK

"This is stupid," Setsumi complained, shoving a strand of dark hair out of her eyes and behind one ear. "You're not only content to blow your cover, but you're willing to blow both of ours at once."

"Or, this is exactly the opportunity that we've been looking for," Genma countered as he rummaged through his clothing to find a clean shirt. "If you're too scared to go through with your part of it—"

Setsumi's frustrated huff cut off the rest of Genma's taunt. She emerged from the bathroom, a makeup brush held in her hand like a weapon. "I can do my job, but I want to go on record as saying it's a stupid plan."

"Noted," Genma agreed, stripping off the sweat-soaked t-shirt that he'd slept in. The black one that he'd found near the bottom of his pack smelled better at least. He unfastened his pants with one hand and tucked the shirt under the waistband. "And, stupid or not, if you plan on going through with this, you need to hurry."

Growling in annoyance, Setsumi turned back toward the bathroom. Her damp hair swayed with the force of the movement as a disembodied voice floated back into the living room. "We can't risk arriving together." There was a clatter from the sink, then a soft curse before Setsumi continued. "Don't worry about me; I know how to play my role."

Rolling his eyes without comment, Genma walked back to the table and rechecked the radios that they'd brought along for just such a mission. The receiver nestled in the ear, completely undetectable unless someone knew exactly what to look for. The recorder was a small chip that was activated by the touch of a finger. Genma wore his like a stone on a braided band of leather around his left wrist. Setsumi would presumably attach hers to some piece of jewelry.

The plan that Genma had devised was simple. One of the higher ups that he worked for, or possibly Gouu himself, had planned a public meeting to solidify a business deal. Despite Genma's effort to glean more details, Yokiro had been strangely tight-lipped about the operation. The only thing that Genma knew was that he'd been requested. He would report for guard duty as expected, then Setsumi would arrive at the same location some time later. She would attempt to seduce or intimidate her way to more information from whomever seemed to be the most important. Genma suspected that the woman would need to rely on the latter given her surly demeanor lately.

After securing and testing his radio, Genma buckled a katana across his back. He straightened his shirt, then glanced at the bathroom door. Setsumi had closed it at some point, so she wouldn't be pleased if he reopened it to check that she was getting ready. The first time that Genma had done that, he'd tried to explain that the woman didn't have anything that he hadn't seen before. Setsumi had slapped him hard enough that his ears still rang an hour later.

Genma left the door shut, calling out from the opposite side. "Try to be there before it's over."

Setsumi growled something in response, but the door softened it to a muffled jab. Genma tried not to be annoyed by the woman's bad mood as he left the apartment. He couldn't be distracted by fighting with his partner when they were about to get their big break. Shifting his attitude toward sullen grumpiness at being back on duty, Genma allowed himself a tired air of curiosity as well. It was easy enough to fake, as it mimicked his feelings as he walked toward the bar on what was supposed to be his night off.

Yokiro's directions had been thorough, so the establishment was easy to find. Genma had expected a seedy dive, but this place looked like a bar that he might have picked on his own, with its understated colors and smoky windows. Genma stepped into the dimly lit interior, taking a moment to absorb the atmosphere. The wooden tables were polished to a high sheen, and the patrons were a mix of upper class men and women. Rich fabrics predominated, offset by the flash of precious stones twilinking like stars in the darkness.

Before Genma had a chance to speak to anyone, Yokiro appeared from the shadows near the entrance. "Good timing. You're mostly here to soothe tempers if anyone steps out of line, and generally keep an eye on things." The man pulled Genma aside as the door opened. A young woman entered, glancing around with cool green eyes before wading deeper into the room. The slinky fabric of her silver dress left little to the—

Yokiro snapped his fingers under Genma's nose. "You need to keep focused on the task at hand."

Grunting in agreement, Genma brought his eyes back up to Yokiro's. He hadn't realized that it would be such an exclusive event and hoped that Setsumi had the sense to dress appropriately, especially considering he hadn't told her what to wear. Unaware of Genma's thoughts, Yokiro continued. "Watch for anything unusual. Otherwise, keep your head down and stay out of trouble."

After checking the weapon over his shoulder, Genma nodded. He moved away from Yokiro and toward the deeper shadows along the walls. The tables were placed around the middle of the floor, providing adequate walking distance between. The gazes that slid past Genma as he made his circuit were unfamiliar, but the bodies stalking between gave themselves away as security. He tried to blend in better than those men and women at least, if not quite as well as an undercover shinobi.

Genma wasn't sure what their target looked like, so it was impossible to tell which table to pay the most attention to. Near the end of his first round, his feet carried him toward an alcove in the back. Guards materialized from nowhere to block his way. The two men weren't the casual muscle that Genma was pretending to be. They were lethal threats, obvious both from weapons on their waists to the corded muscles of the arms that crossed over their chest as they nodded Genma off.

Not wanting to make a scene, Genma moved away without any objection. While his body avoided the area, he studied it from the corner of his eye. There were three guards that he could pick out, which meant there were probably at least a couple that he'd missed. The protection detail centered around a cluster of four tables, two of which were occupied. Expensive sake stood ready on the gleaming surfaces, tiny cups surrounding each bottle, an indicator that these patrons were important.

Before Genma could pick up on anything else, the sound of raised voices near the door drew his attention. Dutifully, he moved in that direction as Yokiro fell into step beside him. "What's going on," Genma asked the veteran.

"No idea," Yokiro answered with a shrug. "This is a popular bar, someone is probably pissed that they can't come in tonight."

Genma nodded, mind spinning at the implications of Yokiro's words. He'd had no idea that Gouu would rent out the entire bar for the night. He knew the man was rich enough to have an estate on the outskirts of the village, at least that's what the rumors said, so why not have the meeting there? Did the man need to make a public spectacle for some reason? Was it about intimidation? Was he afraid of revealing his location? Did he—

"What do you mean 'it's closed'? I can clearly see that you have customers." The familiar tone made Genma cringe. He and Yokiro arrived as Setsumi's words rose loud enough to be heard over the guard's objections. "Do you really want me to get the city guard involved?"

The man's scarred face pulled into a sneer. "We own the—"

Before the man could finish the poorly considered admission, a silken voice cut in. "What seems to be the problem here?"

Yokiro swallowed audibly and caught Genma's arm to pull him backward. Fear and respect shone in the man's eyes, and Genma followed Yokiro's gaze to the owner of the voice. The man in question regarded Setsumi's interruption with calculating grey eyes and plush lips that were turned up in a fake smile. His long, dark hair would have given the Hyuga a run for their money, and he carried himself with the same air of importance.

Setsumi pushed past the security at the door to step into the bar, turning a smile on the stranger. "Finally, someone competent," she breathed.

Genma's mouth fell open as the woman approached the newcomer, hips swaying dangerously. Setsumi had used the two hours in the bathroom to transform into an entirely different person. Her normally unmanageable black waves had been smoothed sleek against her scalp, and the tresses hung lower on her back than normal. Similarly, her purple eyes seemed more intense for the smoky shadows and thick lashes that she'd added around them.

Diamonds glittered on Setsumi's wrist and fingers when she rested her hand on the man's forearm. "These men said I'm not welcome here tonight. I had so looked forward to having a night out." Her voice dropped to a sultry pout. "I don't understand why others are allowed to go in, but I'm kept away. This is the nicest bar in the village."

"Unfortunately, it was rented out for a private event this evening." The man's eyes took in Setsumi's hand, followed it up her arm, and came to rest on her face. Then, he smiled. "But, I see no reason why the lady couldn't join us. As my guest, of course," he added to the guard.

Glancing up through thick, black eyelashes, Setsumi's ruby pout curled into a shy smile. "Oh, thank you."

As the man led Setsumi toward the exclusive area, Genma watched them in stupefied amazement. She looked like a stranger in the shape hugging purple dress that she'd selected, one who he probably would have flirted with under other circumstances, he realized to his horror. A slit reached halfway up her right thigh, and the neckline left her shoulders and collarbones bare, accentuating curves that Genma had never noticed. The stranger placed his hand on the expanse of see through lace over Setsumi's lower back and guided her toward a table.

Yokiro slapped Genma on the back, shattering his trance. "Stop drooling and get back to work. She's out of your league."

Grumbling under his breath, Genma turned away from the man and went back to his circuit of the room. Even so, he found it difficult to keep his gaze from returning to Setsumi. He told himself that it was only a professional courtesy to watch her back in a dangerous situation like this. After a few minutes of silence, static crackled to life from the radio. Conversation picked up as loudly as if he'd been sitting at the table, and Genma allowed the words to drift in one ear and out the other while maintaining his illusion of guard duty.

As the seconds ticked forward, grudging respect began to form. Setsumi seemed to know how to handle this type of mission. Genma's eyes swept the room as he listened to the woman prattle on about the fruity drink that the man bought her. She made up a story about being in the village to visit some friends and how she'd been expecting a backwater, not a bustling town like she'd found. Setsumi laughed, smiled, and flirted as if she'd done this a million times before. Genma had the uncomfortable realization that she must have to make it seem so natural.

The night dragged on, and the room filled with patrons from both organizations. Genma watched Setsumi with growing impatience. He wasn't sure how long the woman would manage to hold her mark's attention, or if it was the person that they needed. For all of her smoldering looks in the beginning, "Yuki" was tentative and reserved now that she'd gotten a seat at the table.

After several passes of the room, Genma slipped into the shadow and touched the radio on his wrist. Once he heard the faint beep that meant it was picking up his voice, he mimed a cough. "Touch his arm," he instructed, noting the way that the man had almost reached out to brush Setsumi's hand during their last conversation. "Give him something to go on; do something more than bat your lashes at him."

A low growl slid through Setsumi's lips, audible over the radio. Then, the man responded in crystal clarity. "I'm sorry, did I say something to upset you?"

"Of course not," Setsumi laughed, a light breathy sound that made Genma's body remember that it had been two weeks since he'd touched a woman. "I was just hoping to get another of those drinks, but nobody seems to notice me. This is different from any bar I've ever been to."

"I noticed you," the man replied with a knowing look that left Genma rolling his eyes from across the room.

The sharp snap of fingers cut through the din of conversation, and one of the servers behind the bar rushed toward the table. Setsumi affected a shy laugh when the target ordered her another drink. Genma shook his head and deactivated his microphone before walking another lazy circle around the room. He tried to keep his eyes from straying back to Setsumi, but it was difficult. She easily outclassed every other woman in the room. In Genma's opinion, that meant she was trying too hard, though the outcome was stunning.

When Genma passed Yokiro, the man bobbed his chin toward the bar. Two women sat at one end, whispering together and watching the pair with interest. He slowed beside his partner, humming a question. "Think they're a danger," he asked, fading into the shadows like it was second nature.

"To us getting any sleep tonight," Yokiro quipped, adding an eyebrow waggle for good measure. "The one on the left can't keep her eyes off you."

Genma smirked, letting his gaze slide across the redhead with a bit more scrutiny. She had a nice smile, sun kissed skin, and a scattering of freckles across her cheekbones just begging to be kissed. Tearing his gaze away, he winked at the man beside him. "I mean, who could when I look this good?"

Yokiro laughed and shook his head. "You're telling me you're not going to do anything about it?"

"I'm—," Genma paused, wondering how to explain the current mess that he'd found himself in without giving everything away. He raised one shoulder in a shrug. "I made a bet with a friend that I could last longer than them without hooking up with someone."

Yokiro turned toward Genma with a frown of disbelief. "Why would you do that? Do you have feelings for that friend?"

Genma laughed so hard that tears sprang into his eyes and threatened to roll down his cheeks. "Nah man, nothing like that. They're just an insufferable asshole, so I can't let them win."

Pushing away from the wall, Yokiro shook his head. "That's a damn shame. But, if you aren't going to follow up on those hungry looks, I'm going to give it a try."

As Yokiro walked toward the bar, Genma ran an appraising eye over the man. He wasn't bad looking as far as it went, though he lacked the smooth, muscled elegance of a shinobi. Yokiro's arms and legs were bulked to make him look more dangerous. Even so, pale scars crossed Yokiro's skin, proof that he had some battle prowess, at least. If it ever came down to a fight, Genma hoped to have the man on his side rather than as an enemy.

"Oh, you must be an important man in the village then," Setsumi simpered in Genma's ear, voice a mix of awe and hunger that would have boosted the ego of any man.

Flicking his gaze in that direction, Genma saw the man straighten in his chair and tug at the neck of his shirt, involuntary tells that Setsumi was getting to him. Genma grumbled under his breath. Surely it wasn't this easy to infiltrate the organization that he'd spent weeks working for. The smooth silk of the stranger's reply suggested that it was. "You could say that," he answered, voice dropping conspiratorially. "Even the village leader does whatever I tell him."

Setsumi's soft, appreciative gasp sounded authentic enough. Genma watched her lean forward, breasts pressing toward the low v-neck of her dress in a way that her mark couldn't miss. He sighed and adjusted his katana before starting his next pass around the room. Why couldn't the bad guy ever be sexy women that he needed to romance? Why didn't Setsumi have to bust her butt every day with guard duty and extortion while he lazed around in the apartment like some kind of princess? It wasn't fair, and he planned to have a long chat with Kakashi about it when they got back to Konoha.

"Is that why the village is so lovely?" Setsumi's voice turned into a low purr as she reached out to touch the stranger's arm. "Because of your excellent leadership?"

The man laughed, a rich, full sound, and Genma knew that Setsumi had won him over. Or, she was getting closer to it with every thinly veiled compliment. "You could say that," he agreed. "Tell me, where are your friends that you came to stay with? And, why did they ever let such an enchanting creature out of their sight for the evening?"

"Well, I haven't exactly been honest with you," Setsumi's voice dropped to exclude everyone except her and the man beside her. Well, and Genma of course, but he had to strain to hear the next words. "I came to stay with my family because my last relationship ended badly, and I needed to get away"

The damsel in distress, really? Genma scoffed under his breath. Were men really that easy? They'd fall for any sob story that crossed their path and gave them the chance to feel like a hero? Surely, their target could see through— "What happened with him?"

"He liked to put his hands on me," Setsumi raised one shoulder in a soft shrug, brushing her fingers over the vertical scars on her cheek. The movement surprised Genma since she usually did everything in her power to hide the marks. "He nearly killed me, but a cousin managed to help me get away. I hope to start over here."

"Are you serious," Genma growled, activating his comm in the privacy of a corner. "Wrap up this sob story and get some intel. You have him eating out of the palm of your hand."

Static crackled through Genma's radio, loud and sharp enough to pierce his eardrum. He ripped the receiver out and watched Setsumi discretely crush hers between two fingers. It took all of Genma's self control not to go yell at the woman, but he couldn't risk exposing them that way. Instead, he blew out a calming breath and ran a finger inside his ear to make sure it wasn't bleeding.

In radio silence, Genma did the only thing that he could do. He stared across the bar in angry disapproval, watching Setsumi blush prettily whenever their mark touched her hand, brushed hair from her cheek, and leaned close to whisper in her ear. The affection became more possessive, and Setsumi returned as good as she got. The pair looked exactly like two strangers who intended to get to know each other in every possible way by the end of the night.

An hour or two after Setsumi arrived at the bar, a stir went through the room. There was no discernible change that Genma saw, but he knew something had shifted. The mark leaned close to whisper something into the shell of Setsumi's ear, and the woman nodded and rose like a well trained dog to walk away from the table. As she did so, three other men took seats around the table with easy smiles and laughter.

Genma made a quick mental note of who the participants in the conversation were, then followed Setsumi toward a door that he'd noticed earlier in the evening. Given the amount of people in and out of that area, he assumed it led to the restrooms. Catching Yokiro's eye, Genma nodded toward the door then gestured at himself. The man caught his meaning and waved him in that direction. Pulling the door open, Genma scanned the hallway beyond; it was empty except for Setsumi.

"What the hell was that," Genma growled under his breath, stopping himself just short of pulling the woman around to face him. "That is not how teams work."

"You didn't want to be a team," Setsumi returned, opening the door on her left and gesturing Genma inside. Once they were in the bathroom, she locked it behind them. Setsumi reached into her dress and pulled the broken radio and receiver from somewhere that Genma didn't want to think about, then shoved them into his hands. "Here, take these, I can't risk having them on me."

Stuffing the electronics into his pocket, Genma frowned and worked through her meaning. "Wait, risk having them on you for what?"

Rolling her eyes, Setsumi reached into her clutch and pulled out a tube of lipstick. She reapplied the ruby coloring that made her pout a thousand times more effective, then smacked them together before facing Genma. "For wherever he takes me when we're done here."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, despite the danger inherent in the suggestion, Genma laughed. "Oh, you're going to let him just take you are you?"

"You're just jealous that he likes me better than you," Setsumi teased, patting some type of clear powder onto her cheeks and forehead. She checked her reflection in the mirror with a sharp nod. "Sulking doesn't look good on you."

Genma huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sulking, and you're not seriously considering sleeping with him, right? It's too dangerous."

"Was it any less dangerous for you to fuck half the village," Setsumi shot back, eyes smoldering as she toyed with a strand of hair. "This is strategic. I never said I was going to sleep with him, I'm just going to gather whatever information I can."

The defensiveness in the woman's posture left Genma speechless. A thousand warning bells rang in the back of his mind, but he silenced them. Despite being a massive pain in his ass, Setsumi was an accomplished shinobi, especially on missions like this. She wasn't going to compromise them or get herself killed; she knew what she was doing. Genma exhaled slowly.

"You know how this ends," Genma warned, voice dropping soft enough that Setsumi needed to lean in to hear it. "Don't fall for him."

Setsumi chuckled humorlessly. "Don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing."