10

There's always a way to salvage a bad situation. The easy play here would be to hand the pack over, shrug, and call it a day.

Unfortunately, the pack contains not only his remaining rations, changes of clothes, and bedroll, but also a small arsenal of kunai, reams of explosive paper, the scroll tube detailing the mission, and a well-thumbed copy of Saucy Nin in Chains. It may just be a spank book, but it's his spank book, goddammit.

"Listen. Guys," Naruto says. "Let's not go down this road, okay? It's really not going to end well for you."

Ichikawa chortles and lets one huge palm drift toward the pistols at his hips. A forefinger slips out and caresses the well-oiled wood of one of their grips. He says, "That so, greenhorn? You hear that, boys? Fancy man here thinks he can take us."

The other men make noises that Naruto thinks are supposed to be laughter, but sound more like a series of yipping barks.

Naruto holds up his hands and tries to look as nonthreatening and bemused as possible. "C'mon, man. That's, uh—that's not really what I meant. There's nothing on me worth taking. The pack's about eighty percent dirty underwear last time I checked. That reminds me—you know a good laundry in town? I swear the sand in my shorts has sand in its shorts, hahaha!" His attempt at laughter isn't any more successful than the others'.

Holding his off hand to his heart, Ichikawa flutters his eyelids and says, "Now, that's just insultin', it is. Who said anything about takin'? We're just curious folk, is all. Don't like just any kind o' riffraff comin' into our city. We're just concerned citizens, we are."

The big man's hand comes to a rest atop the pistol. Calloused fingers curl downward. Naruto experiences an almost philosophical moment of despair at humankind's inherent stupidity.

"As I recall," a rasping voice says, "you ain't welcome in town anymore, Ichikawa. Seems to me that Boss Ozu had a pretty strong opinion on that matter."

Daigo Shimura shuffles into view, hands constricted about one another. There is no fear in his watery eyes—only a species of deep, exhausted annoyance. He pointedly does not put himself between the two men, instead hanging back more than two arm-lengths away. "Also, I'd rather appreciate it if you gents take this outside," Daigo says.

"Stay out of this, old-timer!" Ichikawa says, spittle all but leaping from his lips.

Time to get this shit over with. Naruto says, "Actually, I think he's got a point. Come on. This isn't the place to have a proper conversation anyway." He executes a halfhearted nod toward the shopkeeper. "No offense."

Daigo just shrugs and smiles, clearly grateful.

Ichikawa, however, is less than enthused at the prospect. He says, "No, no, no. I know your type, greenhorn. You're apt to run, ain't ya'? Go dashin' off once those nice boots o' yours hit the dirt. No—we're gonna have us a look in that pack, one way or another."

Man. This guy. Naruto figures he can probably use a quick decoy technique to slip around these idiots and be on his way—but that won't guarantee they won't try to bushwhack him farther down the trail. Besides: this is genuinely starting to piss him off.

"Fine. You go first, okay? I'll come right after. You can even have one of your friends stay back and make sure I don't bolt out the back door. Fair?"

Ichikawa considers the offer, nods, and says with a growl, "You try anything funny and we will cut ya' down like an old dog. Ken?"

As if waking from an uncomfortable sleep, one of Ichikawa's followers perks up and says, "Aye, boss?"

"Make sure the greenhorn here don't try to slip out the back. Once he's in the yard, come out. Ya' know what to do."

Ken nods a little uncertainly, but sidles up to the doorway all the same. Without a further word, Ichikawa snorts, turns on his heel, and stomps out of Daigo's shop. He gestures to the other man to follow. For a moment, both are silhouetted in the sharp white sunlight.

The vacation's officially over, Naruto thinks. He tips his hat to Daigo, briefly locks eyes with the man at the door, and walks out of the shop to complete his conversation these highly charming gentlemen.

By the time he steps down off the stairs, their guns are already in their hands.