Making their way to the crest of a hill, Nishira breathed in the early afternoon air. The trails of rivers spread before her, as she felt their humidity on her face. The sound of a thundering waterfall could be heard in the distance, and Nishira knew they were close. Below them, just after the waterfall lay a town surrounded by a stone wall that was dwarfed from their vantage point. The village blended with the dark greens of the rick foliage, and the grey tones of the exposed rock. The pointed roofs were a green found frequently in moss and fungi. Nishira could make out a single bridge, knowing there were dozens so that had to be the one in the city centre. Masazo stopped a dozen feet in front, on the descent towards the town.
"You alright, Princess?"
"Yeah, I just didn't think I'd come back here willingly alive again."
"Fair enough, Kid. Come on, we need to keep moving."

As they approached the gates to the city, nestled between the two sides of two different mountains, Nishira pulled up the green hood of her wool cloak, fighting the flitting wings of anxiety that dwelled in her throat. It was best if she stayed anonymous as long as possible, for her and her team. The streets bustled with activity of people leaving and entering the city. The guards didn't give them anymore attention than a passing glance. The familiar gate seemed smaller than the one from her memory. The dark stone looked to be carved from the mountain itself, decorated in unkempt vines from crept from the foliage found in abundance in the area. Beyond the gate, the higher buildings that threatened the reach of the mountains were saturated with clouds of fog, humidity from the waterfall nearby.
Masazo whispered over to her.
"How likely are you to be recognized here?"
"I'm not entirely sure, Captain." She thought for a moment. "It's been years since I actively lived here. It wasn't even here that the ANBU spotted me. If the same guys are running the scene, then there's a risk, but they also know I fled so it'll be low and they've likely stopped hunting since I was no longer on their turf. So, we have that going for us." she thought a little harder. "Plus, if it is the same guys, I might be able to use my reputation as leverage or collateral."
Nishira didn't mention that most of them would take a deadly shot at her if they knew of her arrival. Masazo gave a wry smile. "Good assessment. There are some valuable uses to both being anonymous and being recognized. So, for now let's use your anonymity to our advantage. You probably know where the boys will be most likely recruited from."
Nishira grimaced.
"The illegal fights change their location every week. There are some abandoned buildings in the east that could be a good place to start. The poorer areas are also conveniently where most gang activity is in the south here. But some will have homes in the North where all the rich folks and the Daimyo live. In the west are the markets and majority of citizen homes. There is usually at least one place in each section if not more…" She looked at her captain. "But you know most of that already."
Masazo grinned. "You got it, kid. Although the part of being in the North is new. We'd had reports of gatherings that may include the people we want to investigate but not that they would be hosting illegal fights and gambling there."
"Oh, yeah. it's one of the major draws of it. Captain, who do you think gambles the most at these fights. Sure, the middle and lower classes come to watch the entertainment but who has the money and persuasion to keep them running?"
He considered that thought.
"That's interesting. Okay, give me the royal tour."

Together, in their plain cloaks, Masazo and Nishira skulked around the city. Nishira pointed out some potential buildings, while keeping her sights keen for unwanted eyes. The same colours ran through the whole village, hues of greens, blues, and greys were muddied together in the south, but as they moved to more affluent areas, their differences became apparent, the architecture clean and well kept. The markets held all the colours of the rainbow, under large awnings to keep them dry from the drifting mist from the power of the falls. Nishira resisted the urge to rub her arms and shiver. It was as cold and lifeless there as she remembered.

They settled at an inn in the south, by the gates, where travelers were not uncommon, and they would blend in. A weathered old man plopped two cups of the house beer and sized them up. Masazo gave a cold stare back.
"What's your deal?" The innkeeper looked between them. Nishira reached out and patted his hand.
"Father, please, be nice."
Masazo softened the glare, but there was still a pinch in it just for her.
"Sorry, sweetheart."
"We'll leave as soon as Aunty contacts us. She knows we're here. Thank you, sir." she gave a friendly smile, which soothed the man into a smile that revealed his worn and stained teeth, he mumbled about getting them some dinner and toddled off.
"What the hell was that?" It was hissed between his teeth.
"People will notice the pissed off traveler. People in this district don't trust outsiders, they think of them as thieves. Sometimes the gangs are used to protect them from suspected thieves or criminals. We can't give them any reason to suspect us. We engage only when engaged with, and we smile enough to put them at ease but not too friendly. We tip average, we look unassuming. As you said, this is my turf."
"I know how to blend in. You're about to step out of line."
"Captain, listen to me. ANBU teaches us to stay in the shadows. They don't teach the grift. Please, go along with me for now. You can make the calls in the plan, but please trust me. For now, you are my father, and I will not let you down, Dad."
He grumbled but uncrossed his arms and sighed into his cup, taking a swig, and hiding a subsequent grimace at the foul liquid.
"Captain, be thankful. This is one of the better brewers. These are the same owners as before, and I've talked to that guy, which is how I knew he had a daughter that he dotes on."
"Alright, Princess, don't get a big head. We're still here for a while."

Nishira left the cozy inn and popped around town after a night of rest. Her shoes clopping on the uneven stones beneath her feet. She was searching for the old communications that would be hidden in plain sight. A paper placed at the communal board drew her attention. Before her was a flyer for a charity fundraiser and Nishira noticed a marking she was familiar with hidden in the image, the copper coin with a head on it. Nishira knew the other side of the coin would also be the same head, meaning eternal favour to the organization.

The flyer had a much more refined and brazen feel, as though no longer hiding in the shadows. Nishira was intrigued. It used to be that they'd post a wanted flyer for a missing copper figurine of the Daimyo, which was the same face plated on the two headed coin. A pressing curiosity in the back of her mind wanted to find out who the new brains behind the operation were. She took the top flyer from the stack, her eyes scanning for the pertinent information. Her mouth split into a victorious grin; the date was for tonight and its location lay in the warehouse district.

Dusk fell behind the mountain peak, casting a dark flame coloured hue that managed the slip through the overhanging foliage cast its painterly flecks along the cobblestones and buildings. On one of the lower levels and edges of town, too far away to see the sunset this time of day, half of Team Fu stood in the poorer spectators, standing room only in the middle of the warehouse district. Besides the gathering spectators the rest of the streets were shut down for the end of the day.

A quick glance around had no sign of police, which was typical, they always enjoyed their pockets lined with ryo. In a group, her and Masazo shuffled along until the hall opened into a large room, dimly lit with flickering sconces along the walls. In the center, raised to display the fighters to both the audience members on the ground but also above them. A second level wrapped around the sides above them, giving those spectators the prime view of the fighting, as well as a show of their wealth and status by their physical distance above the ground floor.

The announcer came into the middle of the ring, turning in a flourish while draped with brilliant finery that glittered and drew the eye. He addressed the crowd in a well practiced and slick oiled voice rang out to all the viewers. Nishira's gaze crossed the catwalk above them, seeing those who had paid a pretty price just to be seen. Their jewels sparkled from up there, glittering like stars. Masazo sniffed around the other side, looking for anyone that didn't belong. The problem, to Nishira, was that anyone could belong here, it was not a well-kept secret that these matches took place. Instead, the matches provided entertainment to all citizens regardless of how many ryo you possessed or gambled. Team Fu's best hope was to see if anyone approached the fighters after the match and to discover who was pulling the strings.

It was a dazzling affair with spotlights and pomp and circumstance. Masazo's gaze kept drifting back to the fight, the man did appreciate good technique and skill. Nishira's eyes were scanning for the gracious host, schmoozing with clients. She circled the room slowly, stopping to look like she was interested in the fights. Hearing them announce Haru, she stopped to see the curly haired boy with the soft smile enter the ring. The man opposite him held out a curved blade, flicking it threateningly. The ringleader stood between them, the light hitting his brilliant white teeth as he introduced the two fighters. Eager faces huddled around the edges. The platform they stood upon was separated from the crowd by only a couple of feet in height and a worn twisted rope limply hung curtaining around the edges.

Haru held his fists high by his face. Taijutsu was not his strongest skill, but he knew enough to defend himself. Instead of immediately attacking, he gazed intently at his opponent, not bothering to remember the man's name. His focus intent on studying him while the man who schmoozed and made love with the crowd to coax them into a frenzy. His opponent was older, in his early 40s, Haru suspected. He favored his left even though his right hand held the blade. As the man bounced on his feet, Haru suspected it was from an old injury. His face marred from scars, giving the texture an unnatural formation like a growth that threatened to take his left eye. Haru's eyes took in his lean arms and torso, down to his legs.

As soon as the referee's arm swung down like a red flag ripped between them, Haru waited for the man to come to him. He didn't have to wait long. The man began swinging the curved blade wildly, slicing the air around Haru, missing him. Haru evaded them and jumped back, disengaging. They danced around the ring to give themselves some space and Haru wondered if his opponent would wait for him to come at him. Haru was surprised that the man came back in again, swinging wildly once more, in the same pattern. As the man swung his arm out to the right, opening his body to an attack, Haru instead got down on all fours.
Secret Tanuki Slam
His chakra molded around Haru, giving him more raccoon like features, a black smoke crowded around his eyes and ears that could hear each cry in the building peaked through his mount of curls atop his head. With a large tail, Haru used it to slam the man in the abdomen, sending his careening along the ring floor. His opponent rose, leaning heavily on his left foot.
"What the hell are you?"
Haru didn't respond, but stood on his feet, but the chakra still formed a cloak around him. It would have been simple to eliminate the man before him with barely any effort. But there was a fine line that he and his partner Yasuhi had to dance. Infiltration was a dance between giving the enemy what they want, but also not becoming a threat. He expertly dodged and danced with him, watching as his opponent began to lose his patience, swinging harder and harder.
"Stay still! Dammit!"
Haru reached out and easily grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground. He looked, expecting to see rage plastered on the man's face, but startled when he was greeted with a snarling smile. A slick suckling noise drew his attention back to his grip, to see it wrapped in black slimy tentacles that pulsed, inching up his hand threatening to engulf it completely. Haru tried to back off, but the grip cinched like rope, pulling him off balance, and whipping him around before slamming him into the hard ground. A searing and pulsing pain spread from his shoulder, dislocated from the socket. Haru rose as the man cackled, his whole right arm a bulging mass of the dark tentacles.
"Come on, pretty boy. Let's dance."
Haru had had enough, he let a sneer play on his features before running full tilt towards his opponent, ducking at the last minute to slide between his legs and whipping his chakra tail into the man's back. Following through with a kunai pulled from his bag, he sliced through the mass of eels, separating from his host, feeling the space connecting the rotator cuff to the arm bone, and neatly pulling through it. The man screeched pitifully as they slumped onto the ground. The wriggling ropes shrunk into a human arm, blood leaking from the exposed flesh. With one last fist to his opponent's face, Haru sent that man over the string that acted as the perimeter, throwing him into the crowd. The ringleader came forth and held the uninjured arm up, declaring to the frenzied crowd.
"We have our winner!"
The referee pulled Haru's undamaged hand high above his head and he awkwardly stood there as the roar of the room fell on his deaf ears. Haru sneered again. The injury of his arm burned brilliantly with shame. He'd been careless, overconfident, and almost lost the match as a result. It was unlikely he would have another shot at being recruited now.

Nishira looked from the victory of her comrade, recognizing the scowl on his face as he averted his eyes from everyone who stared up at him, instead looking firmly at the ground. The helpless sigh she let out was bitter. Turning to her own mission, she saw one of the armed guards looming in front of a doorway, his giant mass almost hiding the entrance from view. Nishira knew it would be the way into the back hallways, giving her more access to the facility. However, the bulky man posed a large problem. It didn't matter what she threw at him, he was too big to take on directly.

Nishira turned towards the ring and took a few steps into the crowd in front of the entrance, her elbow hit a man in the side, robbing him of breath and she ducked as the man turned and angrily shouted at his neighbor, accusing him of the attack. As he took a step to square up with the innocent bystander, Nishira put out her foot to trip him into the man, and within seconds a brawl broke out. Shouts drowned out the entertainment up on the stage, fists flying and any furniture nearby breaking. A scream rang out as someone was pushed to the filthy concrete floor, sticky with spilled drinks of matches passed. Only the ring master paid attention and flicked his hand at the surrounding muscled security towards the throng of people to stop it before it enveloped everyone there. Nishira turned to the doorway and saw the muscled man step in to break it up, grabbing men half his size by their shirt collars. Nishira took the moment to slip into the doorway.

Seeing a darkened hallway, she ditched the cloak into a garbage bin. A woman with a tray of tall champagne flutes filled halfway with a glittering liquid. The tray also held tiny cups the size of thimbles. Nishira knew exactly what would be in those cups and she wanted to go wherever they were going. The waitress walked by without seeing her and walked up the stairs steadily. Nishira held out her hands into channel chakra, imitating her uniform, a plain black skirt and vest with a white shirt. She wandered over and picked up an extra tray and filled up her tray with some empty cups and followed the woman up the stairs.

At the top was a familiar view. Most of the folks here were dressed in their finest and preferred strutting around to show off their status more than putting on the table and gambling. But some white knuckled grips on the rails told Nishira some may have bet the whole house on these. Nishira milled about with a smile, picking up empty glasses to whoever motioned.
"Miss?"
Nishira turned and saw a familiar face. She froze her expression in a smile as she moved the tray towards him. To her relief, the man kept his eyes firmly on the woman on his arm. She was a child, about the age of Sakura, painted and dolled up to look like the perfect trophy on her uncle's arm. Time had been kind to the man, his face barely showing signs of his age. The only lines showing were around his brows where he'd frown and around his mouth as he beheld the treasure he displayed for the room. Every step he did was a careful dance to display the jeweled and coiffed doll with him.

Nishira held back a dangerous sneer, squelching the urge to throw the tray at him in rage and flee. Instead, she looked to the young woman, her eyes wide in discomfort, even though her features were expertly schooled, the flick of her pupils at every movement betrayed her fear. In the layers of cloth that covered her body, Nishira noted that the fabric was expensive. The makeup on the young girl's face was expertly applied to give her features that would grow in naturally as she aged. Nishira turned away to keep the bile in her stomach down.

A strong hand reached towards her tray and Nishira dipped it towards the guest, grateful for the distraction. The man placed his empty cup, a short brandy glass that reeked of the expensive drink he loved the most, and maintained probing eye contact, sizing her up. Nishira felt the gaze move and felt her skin crawl where his eyes looked.
"Well, I don't remember such a cute girl on the wait staff."
She simply smiled and went to move on, when he firmly grabbed her elbow.
"We're not done here. Now come, sit and tell me your name."
He motioned for the other girl that had appeared almost from thin air and motioned for her to take the tray of empty glasses. With a dazzling smile, the other waitress took it, gliding off with her ponytail bouncing gaily as she walked away with the only thing Nishira may have been able to use as a shield. The man gestured to a seat.
"Now that's taken care of, talk to me. Tell me your name. I bet its as lovely as you are."
His smile was dazzling but it didn't reach his eyes. They had always been so cold.
"I'm so sorry, did I mess up? I promise I'm trying really hard." She hid her face in her hands. "Please don't fire me, sir."
"Oh I would never, I will handle anyone who would try and take you away from me." The lines were smoky and sultry. He always gravitated towards weak women, easy prey he'd say.
"My name is-is Miki, sir, I just don't want to get in trouble."
"Relax, Miki, I won't devour you. Unless you ask me to."
"The Big Boss won't get mad?"
He smiled.
"No, no of course not. Come watch the match with me."
Yasuhi had beaten his opponent to a pulp with sheer force and held his hands above him in victory, a slip of blood came from his shouting, his mouth open in victory, eliciting cheers from the crowds, pleased with the spectacle and blood. The presenter came and waved him off before bringing in the next round, two shinobi she hadn't heard of. As they looked, she felt his fingers slowly trail up and down her arm. Nishira looked up to see him gazing not at her but the display below.
"See the people? They don't come here to see two fighters battle in a glorious epicenter. No, see the shinobi are here to get paid which is their right to have to work for it. But the people. The rich people are here for show, to show their neighbors that they are all powerful and will oppose the laws of the Daimyo, while benefiting from his prosperity. The life of a noble is boring and in need of excitement. The gambling simply gives them reason to be here, to show off their wealth and riches. But the fights and the upper level let's them feel powerful and important over the other classes. Take for example, the bumbling buffoon over there, advisor to the fucking Daimyo himself, but comes here and shows off his new child bride as though no one here would say anything. And they won't, to his face, so he holds that power over them all. Oblivious to the rope he's letting out to hang himself. But its not just them."
He turned to look at her, and she mirrored carefully, aware of every move he made. Nishira found the urge to curl in on herself, she'd been about that child's age when she'd met the man beside her.
"Those people down there. Yes, it's entertaining, and some of them are here for the fight and the gambling stakes. But…" his thumb raised and grazed her chin. "They're here for the same reason, power. They watch these fights and see these bloody warriors take a beating for their entertainment and for a moment, they forget about their sad little lives and believe that someone who takes money to be beaten to a bloody pulp is lower than them. So, you see, it is all about power."
His eyes searched hers and he leaned in as though to kiss her. Nishira's body refused to resist, her mind started to panic, trying to figure out a way to escape the oncoming embrace without making him angry and putting the mission in danger. It suddenly dawned on her that he was the boss they were looking for. He paused a breath above her mouth.
"It's really you, isn't it. It's your eyes, I would recognize them anywhere. That was your mistake."
She went to pull away and make a break for it, when his hand grabbed the back of her head and planted the kiss anyways. She gasped and he plunged his tongue into hers, her hands struggling to find grip to pull him off as his body pressed against hers. She shoved him away, but his arm still gripped her forearm. She wiped her mouth with a free arm, glaring at him, the jutsu undid.
"There she is. The Nishira I adore." he clasped his hands together in fake gratitude with hers sandwiched between them. They were rough, the hands of a thug. "Welcome home, Nishira. Next time, you only have to knock on the front door."
"What are you on about, I'm not here for you."
"Oh I know exactly what you're here for, you and your 'father'."
He smiled his pearly whites as he drained the last of his champagne.
"So now you have a face to the name, I'll give you a head start in taking us down. I live in the old Doromisu house. Just call ahead so I know to have my last meal before you show up."
"Rakumo, I'm not here to kill you. I'm on a different mission."
"Mission? Oh I see. The reports were right, you're a hidden leaf shinobi now. And a good one if my informant at the exam was right. He told me you spotted him in your village but not at the exam." Nishira realized he was talking about Rat. "You've really matured." That last word was elongated as he looked her over. "Here's my proposal. Leave them and come back to me."
"Come back?"
"Yes, we worked well together on the streets. But now that I'm on the throne instead of a henchman running errands, I think it's time you came back, and we ruled together."
"Together? You and I both know you work alone."
He pulled her arm in tighter. "Give me a chance. Let me show you I've changed."
"Excuse me," a man in plain garb, but with foreign designs approached. The bright intricate gold on his robe appeared to adorn a man with skin dark like burnt umber, as though gold also flowed through the man's veins. His dark rich eyes scanned first Rakumo and then her. "Is there an issue here?"
Rakumo smiled his charming radiant convincing smile. "Why no, not at all. I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine. I was just trying to convince her to come back and work with me. I think she was about to accept."
"No- I"
"Please Miki, I will talk to the accountant about your request. Rogue shinobi are a dime a dozen, but when you find a good one, you do everything to keep her, isn't that right, Soyasu."
"Will she be fighting?"
"Oh no, Miki is here as my guest. It was supposed to only be catching up, but I shamelessly want to try and bring her back into the fold." he assessed her again. "It's her eyes, they always flashed such a deep rich colour, especially when she's angry. There was something about them that just drew me in."
He pulled her in, his arm snaked around her waist.
"Miki, please meet a new acquaintance of mine. This is Soyasu sent from a foreign land, he's here doing the bidding of his boss, what was his name again?"
"I never gave it." The man scowled at Rakumo.
"Well, it was worth a shot. Soyasu, I am allowing you to observe and see if anything catches your fancy. Miki here is off limits, but otherwise, we can negotiate a fair price, I'm sure. We are all civil gentlemen here, right? Please enjoy your night, my most honoured guest."
With practiced ease, he guided Nishira away. She turned to ask him something, but he held a finger to his lips. They didn't speak until they were squared away in a back room, refitted with portable but still lavish decor centered around a chair that was marginally better than the ones outside of the room. Still, it surely was no throne.
"Please pull Miki here, a chair beside mine. Oh, and some champagne to celebrate. We have a lot to catch up on and a contract to negotiate."
"Excuse me, Rakumo, but what the fuck?"
"What? As soon as that boor approached us, and I saw your face I knew what your real goal was. You're investigating the recruitment of rogue shinobi and until now, you were trying to figure out who was doing the recruitment."
"How did - "
"Nishi, honestly, I'm offended. If someone moves in on our players, we act. Actually, they pay me a tidy sum for anyone they're interested in. There are plenty of rogue shinobi unhappy with their villages, so I don't particularly miss any of them, but they do add a certain drama to the events. So," He gave a full lipped smile and a nonchalant shrug, before turning fully to her in the chair. "What will it take to bring you back, my little shrike, I miss you."
"I really don't-"
"Wait, before you give me an answer. Take a few days, a week, and think about it."
Knowing he was in one of his moods, she simply nodded before he stood and gave her his hand. Rakumo led her to the door.
"Nishira, please consider it. And in the meantime, I would highly appreciate that you don't interfere with my business arrangements. We can talk again in seven days at the next event. It's the big one we always throw at the manor, your favorite. Wear something nice, and" He scanned her up and down and spoke the next word with a hiss "revealing."
His eyes gathered at her chest with a treacherous grin; she fought the prickling urge to cover up. He gestured to a muscled man, a mirror image from the one downstairs.
"Take Miki here back to her chaperone downstairs. That will be all. And Nishira?"
He pulled her in close so that his forehead rested on hers in a tender move that choked the breath in her lungs with burning repulsion.
"I'm very excited to work with you again. Think of me these next few days." he breathed heavily on her. The hot exhale wobbled with domineering lust. "I will be thinking of you, revisiting the past."
Her stomach turned to stone, and her heart faltered. It took everything not to sneer or spit in his face. The hired goon took her elbow and she left as he threw her a suggestive wink.