Shinbatsu’s balls, if Rin hadn’t chided me for gluttony, I’d be missing fingers right now, he thought in annoyance as he made his hurried way back to the hidden videotaping chamber where Asako Ilanovich hopefully still waited. Under the incense’s influence, he might have simply grabbed at the blade without thinking, and thus have been sprayed with a paste of sodium hydroxide. At that concentration, the mixture would have eaten through his bones in a manner of seconds, and plunging the affected parts into the nearby water would have only caused worse damage. His foot still ached, but the pain from that was fading fast, just as the initial stimulus had cleared his head of the depressive effects of that incense. The human part of the Cabal’s security had clearly been lacking down there, but the hardware was still very much functional. It was something to caution other agents about should they be sent on similar missions. He checked his watch quickly – even though it had felt like an eternity under the cistern, only twenty or so minutes had elapsed in real time. It was long enough for the standard service given by a courtesan, but not too long that the guards outside would start to get suspicious. As he emerged back into the red-lit room, he spied Asako nervously sitting on the edge of the bed. She gasped slightly at his return, immediately standing.
“Did you…” she started, her eyes frantic. Masao merely smiled and pressed a finger to her lips.
“I told you I’d succeed. I’m an ANBU, after all” he said, running a hand through his hair. She sighed in relief for a second before assuming her former, calculating expression.
“Now will you fulfill your promise to me? Or shall I scream right now and let them know exactly what happened?” Asako asked, only half-playfully.
“I’m a shinobi, not an asshole. Meet me at the entrance in ten minutes exactly. Let your handlers know that I’d decided to take you home with me for the night and that the deposit is being wired to the club’s account right now,” he said, momentarily flashing the
rinnegan at her once again – a reminder of who she was dealing with. “Now, do your part.”
With that, he bowed to her slightly and walked past the curtains and into the hallway. For good measure, he undid the top buttons of his shirt and loosened his tie, all the more to make it seem as if he had just engaged in some “underworld commerce.” As he passed the guards waiting at the threshold to the club proper, he gave them a jovial wink, to which they merely nodded, faces inscrutable under their dark sunglasses. A moment later, Asako emerged as well, patting one of the guards on the shoulder. He could overhear her saying she needed to go freshen up – so far, so good.
Instead of going down the stairs, he continued casually along in the direction of the management offices, as if strolling around to get a nicer view of the fights below. It was helpful that there were some other patrons up here, no doubt discussing matters that needed a bit more quiet than could be given on the gaming floor. Leaning over a railing nearby a pair of baronets, he shifted his eyes, monitoring the doorway to the nearby pit boss’s office. These men, who were responsible for making sure no one blatantly cheated at the games and got away with it, would periodically cycle in and out of the office, because no security camera was a good enough substitute for having actual eyes on the tables.
The nobles nearby were discussing the Shiranai issue with some enthusiasm, and he listened in, interested. It seemed that the Chancellor was risking nearly her entire power base on this gamble – on this no-name mednin. Inwardly, Masao shook his head. The woman liked to gamble hard, it seemed. As fascinating as the conversation was, however, Masao’s attention snapped to the door opening as one of the pit bosses emerged, chatting on his radio. A brief glimpse of the room through the doorway revealed no one else inside. As the man walked by, Masao quickly and subtly made his way to the closing door, and stopped its latching with a deftly-placed finger. Silently, he squeezed in, leaving the baronets nearby none the wiser.
Once inside, he quickly performed a basic transformation jutsu – his suit was actually within the limits of what one of the club managers would wear on the floor, so really all he needed to change was his facial features. His countenance blurred briefly, and was replaced by that of a generic-looking, hard-featured kaminarijin in his forties, completely bald. Now, he would go for the fileroom attached to the manager’s office.
The key always was to walk confidently and with a little briskness to one’s step – it was a sign that one belonged in a place, and more importantly, had a mission to complete. It also helped to minimize others attempting to socialize and subtly deterred suspicion of wrongdoing. Bypassing several managers who sat either counting money or smoking cigarettes or loudly directing their subordinates over headset, Masao finally entered the empty and darkened fileroom and closed the door behind him, locking it. The filing cabinet itself was an easy pick-job – a student could have done it.
Poring over the labels, he spied out the one that would likely be most fruitful: “Contracts.” Subheading: “Human Resources.” Subheading: “Ilyanovich, A.” There were two documents in her file; one was a bill of sale from the House of Falling Leaves brothel to the Crane Club which transferred her ownership to them for the sum of three hundred thousand yen in gold
koban, and the other was the actual document of ownership. It was a pretty piece of parchment that essentially had the power of life or death over the woman. It named her as a licensed courtesan and stripped her of all rights to own property, marry, be employed by others or by herself, and even travel outside of the city. And its terms would be enforced with extreme prejudice by the Bakufuu itself. Officially, these were terms of indentured servanthood, but practically, it was simply slavery by any other name. Whosoever possessed this document owned her completely.
He removed the entire folder and stuffed it inside his suit before closing the drawer. There were many other courtesans there besides Asako – many of the women would eventually be discarded or used as fodder for snuff fetishists once their youth or beauty left them, or once they grew too tolerant to the various narcotics that they were doubtless addicted to. But what good would he do to liberate all of them? It would only compromise the mission in the end when the Crane Club management discovered that many files missing. Shinobi agents would die as a result, and the Hitokage would come back stronger to wreak a terrible vengeance on Kumo.
With grim resolve, he exited the fileroom, walked past the managers from earlier, and exited out of the pit boss office just before the one who had left rounded the stairs to return. Masao checked his watch –five minutes left. With that, he stopped into a nearby restroom and undid his transformation.
Asako waited for him at the exit – she had donned an expensive fur coat and carried a rather large handbag – likely all of her possessions that weren’t completely bolted down. He did not know if she had any job skills, but something told her that she would be able to take care of herself out there. The Willow World was ruthless in its own way, and its graduates were a wily bunch. Wordlessly, he extended his arm to her, which she took, squeezing a bit more tightly than before. With careful, measured steps, they made their way to the stylized docks, and boarded one of the gondola to the city proper.
Later, at the Imperial Dragon Hotel
“Oh ho ho, who’s your friend, Vice Commander?” asked Haruka, cheeks flushed as she traipsed over to Masao and Asako, still wearing her lingerie and precariously twirling a champagne glass. Masao sighed.
“Not a friend. An intelligence asset, my drunken buntaichou-chan,” said Masao, as he handed Asako the file folder. The courtesan’s eyes widened in shock as she looked over the documents and stuffed them into her handbag.
“You fulfilled your promise, shinobi… To be honest, I didn’t expect you to. I thought I’d be dead for sure, but at least I’d get to stab them back before I died,” said Asako quietly, looking at the ground.
“Kumogakure has some honor left. Anyway, you now own yourself. My intoxicated subordinate over there and I plan to leave immediately. You have this room until tomorrow morning. I’d suggest, though, getting the hell out of town as soon as possible,” he said.
“Aww, really?! Can’t she play with me a bit?!” wailed Haruka playfully as she flopped on the bed.
“What will you do?” asked Masao, ignoring his sniper.
“I can take care of myself. I have an aunt in Port Cirrus. I will work at her restaurant and start from there,” replied Asako, her voice confident.
“Here,” said Masao, offering her an envelope with all of the remaining yen allocated to him from the mission. At least ten thousand, enough for a ticket to anywhere she wanted to go and to buy a small apartment in Port Cirrus. “This isn’t a gift. It’s an investment. Kumogakure has need of civilian assets. You may be called upon to aid us in some other fashion in the future. But for now, concentrate on rebuilding your life,” he said, passing the envelope to her. A single tear rolled down the woman’s face, and she suddenly hugged him.
“Thank you… I owe you my life,” she said, sniffling as she released him from her embrace. “What’s your name, shinobi?” Masao merely gave her a mysterious smile.
“My name…isn’t really important. Good luck, Asako Ilyanovich,” he said, turning to leave. “Oh, Haruka, for Shinbatsu’s sake get dressed. It’s actually cold out there.”
“You’re so LAME! Why are you so LAME?!” protested Haruka, pouting as she pulled a greatcoat over herself and slipped into her heels.
“You’re really going to wear a coat and underwear and heels?”
“Yesh. Because I’m sexy and I know it… Lame-o…”
“Whatever. You’ll freeze your asshole off…”
“But I’m so hot! Ask Gin! She knows it, uh huh…”
Total Word Count for this thread, not including village leaving or entry posts: 7523
