Money Well Spent [Open]

[Shouka]

The sound of an arrow whizzing through the air, followed by a high-pitched sound of frustration ripped the usual silence of the Ancient Forest's edges to shreds. The arrow that Sanohe Shouka had just shot from her new, wooden bow had planted itself unceremoniously in the ground, feet away from its intended target; namely, a small mark in the trunk of a tree a little ways from where she was standing, and the eleven year old was clearly not impressed.

Shouka had come to this forest, partly to escape the hot sun, but most importantly to train, a few days after meeting someone named Masaru in the Susukino District, who had told her all about the shinobi world. It had been, frankly, horrifying to the girl, and still a little hard to grasp, but it had also been a slap to the face. A wake up call? Whatever it was, what he had said had bothered her enough to make her want to try and gain some ground with her shinobi-clan-born classmates.

Which was all fine, but on the way to the Ancient Forest she'd walked past a weapons store; and, using the infallible mantra of 'why not?' had stepped in to see if she could round up some extra kunai or senbon. There'd been a bow for sale, though, with a set of five arrows- and since it was the last one on the shelves, the gushing shopkeeper convinced her to buy it for dirt cheap. It took some convincing, but Shouka eventually caved and purchased the bow. Of course, the shopkeeper had 'forgotten' to add in the cost of the arm guard, finger tab, shooting glove, quiver...

Dumb con artist, Shouka thought glumly, nocking another arrow. Dumber me for falling for it. She drew the string back unsteadily- why were bow strings so ridiculously hard to pull back?- and her shoulder flared up in retaliatory pain. The eleven year old hissed and released the string, and the wooden arrow went soaring through the air before landing close to the first one, still far away from the tree.

I used all my arrows, and I didn't hit the target once? She was starting to think she wasn't cut out for this. No point in coming out here just to give up now. Heaving a sigh, she went to collect the arrows that now littered the small clearing. She counted one, two, three, four... but not five. Shouka definitely remembered the last arrow landing a few feet from her, but it was nowhere to be found. Where could it have gone? The girl left her clearing, stepping past the nearest row of tall trees in search of her lost arrow. When she didn't see it, she pushed ahead, risking going a bit deeper into the forest.

I'll just... get a new one. She decided after a few minutes of searching; one little arrow wasn't really worth venturing into a forest that was rumoured to be full of ghosts and crazy axe murderers. She turned to head back to the clearing, when she realised that she didn't actually know which way she had come from. Her mouth was starting to feel dry, but part of her wondered whether this turn of events wasn't a little... predictable?

[Edit: Changed 'old' bow to 'new' bow. Whoops.]

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

Searing pain shot through the girl's lower body, she had been running at full bore for the majority of the day, she had created a circuit through the forest which she meticulously timed herself going through, three days a week she would sprint the area and each time she shaved seconds from her previous time, always with the attitude that if she wasn't improving she was dying. It seemed that in this particular case that she felt as if she was dying anyway, as if battery acid were pumping through her veins, clearly she was pushing too hard a fact that she wholeheartedly acknowledged. Still this did not sway her to slow herself, even if it meant a bit of self destruction was needed "Have to break yourself down to build yourself up.</COLOR><i></i>", she managed to heave out assuming that no one else was in the area with her. A deep burning sensation settled in her chest, her lungs felt as if they were going to explode at any moment yet she continued on in her lap. The sounds of arrows being nocked and shot permeated the area, but she was completely unaware if she had been unlucky a stray arrow might have shot through the forest and felled her, but such a thing didn't occur. She was lucky.


"Nearly there.<i></i>" She huffed out thinking of her next training regiment in the day. Next in her busy day she would be going to practice tactics via Shogi and Go, having recently found someone who could challenge her mental acuity. Aloud she uttered her plans for playing the games, still under the impression that she was the only person in the area, "Press the pace, make sure to always stay on the offensive. Shove my presence down his throat. Going to beat him again. He'll see.<i></i>" to anyone else her blathering would probably seem to be just that, blathering, to her it was an important piece of the strategy in winning, to verbalize the plan.

Of course she wouldn't be making the appointment in any matter, fate had a funny way of twisting Chiyoko's plans. A small figure seemed to appear from thin area roughly thirty feet from the girl, in reality she had been far too focused on her planning and running to notice anyone was in the area, Chiyoko made an attempt to force her sprint to a stop as to not run into the figure. While she failed in stopping her sprint she did manage to avoid running directly into the person in the woods, narrowly moving toward their left before tripping and bounding into the ground in what one could consider to be a glorious face-plant. Without further thought she tucked into a ball rolling back toward her feet in a matter of half a second or so, hoping to play off what had just happened. This is going to ruin my time. She thought to herself, mildly flustered by her mistake.

Brushing herself off she swiftly turned to face the figure, "<COLOR color="purple">Nice day out.<i></i>" she quipped obviously trying to play off the fact that she had just ran directly into the ground. Chiyoko quickly traced over the small girl, intrigued by her impish stature, the girl couldn't have been more than ten or so judging from her height and weight. On top of that she seemed to have incredibly bright red hair and fairly dark eyes. They were almost black, or so she thought. Her next point of observation rested upon the bow in the young girl's possession, had she been a bit older and looked a bit more world-wearied she would have assumed a hunter, but the girl carried with her a bunch of largely useless gear that archers were overly fond of "Good day for some archery, right?<i></i>" she joked, still trying to steer away from mentioning she had just busted her ass.

 

[Shouka]

Shouka picked a direction and turned randomly, deciding that doing anything was better than staying in one spot, even if it meant getting more lost. As she turned, she saw it- the arrow, sitting uselessly on the ground, like it hadn't been the cause of all her trouble. Great. Now, if I can just get out of -? The faint rustling of trees and bushes to her right stopped Shouka in the middle of crouching for the arrow, and it was slowly becoming louder. The eleven year old's first though was ghost. The second was axe-murderer. She jerked to her feet and moved the bow in front of her torso, holding it in front of her like a useless shield, when a young, female voice spoke up from somewhere very close by.

"Press the pace, make sure to always stay on the offensive. Shove my presence down his throat. Going to beat him again. He'll see.”

Shouka suddenly remembered that she had a kunai pouch, and reached for the steel. Years of dubiously accurate books and overly superstitious grandparents meant that she could only assume that whatever she was hearing was some kind of ominous mantra. If the Ancient Forest was packed full of ghosts and youkai, why not cultists, too?

To her surprise, what barrelled through the bushes- and she did mean barrel- was not some cloaked fiend, but a figure the size of a teenager. And she was coming straight at her, way too fast to stop. Shouka tensed for impact. It never came. The girl barely missed Shouka's stiff figure, and zoomed by just in time for Shouka to turn her head and see her fall, face first, into the forest floor, before quickly switching to an upright position.

Shouka blinked. What just happened? Her thoughts had gone from axe murderer to cultist to running thirteen year old, and she was suffering internal whiplash. Seconds passed, then half a minute, and Shouka realised, belatedly, that the chestnut-haired tornado had said something about the weather.

“Oh.” she said, just a bit too loudly, “Right, yes, it is.” Shouka discreetly- or so she hoped- slipped the kunai back into its pouch.

"Good day for some archery, right?" The eleven year old blinked, then remembered her bow. The grim thought occurred to her that if this girl had come earlier, she might have been hit with a stray arrow. Telling her that she was just starting out would not be too comforting.

“It, um, seems like a better day for a run. That is what you were doing, right?” She asked conversationally, shifting the bow so it was halfway behind her back. She's noticed that the girl didn't seem to be chasing anything, or being chased, and she looked like one, so Shouka guessed that the brunette was a runner. The redhead's eyes were pulled to the deep red flower tattoo that decorated the older girl's wrist; along with her deep, differently coloured eyes- something that Shouka thought she had seen before, somewhere- she stood out from most of the people she knew. The redhead had always been kind of fascinated by tattoos, if not a little scared by the process, but they had never been allowed at her house. Something about how they were meant for 'seedy people'.

Shouka looked around and realised that the girl hadn't seemed to be following any particular path. She clearly knew where she was going, or otherwise she was as lost as Shouka herself. Even though strangers in the forest weren't really meant to be trusted, Shouka had weapons, and she looked nice enough besides. The girl moved into a more relaxed pose. “My name is Sanohe Shouka. Do you have any idea how you're supposed to get out-”

Yet another rustle sounded, interrupting her mid-sentence. Shouka jerked around. Nope, no. No more surprises.<i></i> She reached for her kunai again, much less hassled this time, and aimed narrow eyes at the bushes. She inched forward jerkily, but there didn't seem to be anything there. Great, now she was jumping at shadows. Tugging abashedly at her collar, she turned back to the other girl. “-any idea how I'm supposed to get out of here?”

 

[Takaki Saeko]

[Hey you two, mind if I join?]

When telling a story, you are allowed to commit some pretty heinous sins. Head-hopping, mixing tenses, run-ons, fragments. Like this one. It’s all good as long as it’s true to your voice. But may Jesus Saito have mercy on your soul if you ever resort to clichés.

One of the cliché things about shinobi is that we’re always hiding in the shadows and eavesdropping on others, especially in forest settings. I say screw that. I’ll punch a sucker in the throat before I get stuck up in some goddamned tree listening in on two students decide where to get ramen and talk about what boys they like. Thankfully, I’m not in a tree, and the girls nearby aren’t actively failing the Bechdel Test.

I’m actually out here because it’s truffle season in Kumogakure. Truffles, you ask? Yes, those shriveled black things that grow in the ground and smell like farts. They cost at least five hundred yen a gram, and only grow in the most anal-retentive of conditions at the base of trees in deciduous forests like the one in this caldera we call home. In order to find truffles, you’d have to either have a highly-developed sense of smell, or do what I do and rent a pig on a leash. Mine is a youngish, short-haired male named “Meat Bowl” and at the end of the season he might end up as bacon unless he’s actually good at his job. So far, I’ve dug at the bases of about six trees and found jack and shit. When they carve Meat Bowl up for parts I definitely want to be there for the event.

Truffle hunting can be lucrative. In fact, it’s so lucrative that it’s not unheard of for truffle hunters to get mugged by other truffle hunters. When a pound of solid flatulence is worth more than the average chuunin’s yearly take, things can quickly get strange and aggressive. So when I heard bow-shots nearby I naturally assumed that some asshole was going to try to take my nonexistent truffles. The sensible thing to do would have been to escape, but I was in a weird mood and kind of wanted to sic Meat Bowl on my attackers. After all, a pig will eat anything, humans included.

My pig makes a rustling sound as he tears through the bushes and one of the two girls draws a throwing dart. Meat Bowl, the worthless coward, freezes at the sight and the girl simply returns to socializing. From what I can tell now, they probably weren’t trying to steal my shrooms and leave me for dead. Definitely not with that janky bow the redhead has. As I said, I’m not one for cliché, so I scoop Meat Bowl up in my arms and step out of the bushes to greet them. What a sight I must be; dressed like a peasant with a wicker basket slung to my back and carrying a squealing pig. But then again, it’s not like I’m trying to pick up chicks.

“Yo. Were you the ones shooting all over the place earlier? You scared my contract animal half to death. Now the season's over for me and he'll need intensive therapy. I’ll have to ask you for compensation. A million yen should cover the bills.”

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

((No problems here.))

There seemed to be a brief pause before the younger girl replied, in that brief time Chiyoko couldn't help but focus upon the weapon the person opposite of her was brandishing, a Kunai. So, it seemed safe to assume that she was a Shinobi, a fairly young one at that. Before she had a chance to mention that she was brandishing a weapon she seemed to remove it from her vision, it was safe to say she was putting the weapon away from use. All the while she replied to her comment on the weather, thankfully it seemed that she wouldn't be mentioning what had just happened. Her gaze casually drifted from the girl to the skyline which was slightly obstructed by the trees leaving shattered light to cascade downward, it was quite beautiful. She was often in too much of a rush to get through with her laps to notice the beauty that the forest held within, such a shame. Chiyoko made a mental note to smell the flowers when she next made her way back to the forest, for now her attention needed to be focused upon the girl who she had nearly crashed into.

The day was ideal for running, in fact she was in time to beat her previous record before running into the girlwhich in and of itself was a bit annoying, though she didn't show it on her face "Just a bit of exercise, get the blood flowing.<i></i>" she stated a bit disconcertingly; it seemed she had lately been making a bit of a fool of herself, what with falling off of rooftops and running directly into the ground and all. It seemed the dark-eyed girl had found the tattoo Chiyoko had on her wrist, staring rather conspicuously; she wondered if the younger Shinobi knew the relevancy of that tattoo as she stared, if she knew that it was the mark of a criminal organization. Her tattoo was indeed reserved for 'seedy people'. The red-headed girl made no comment on the tattoo, whether from being unaware of what it meant or simply wishing to not touch on the matter Chiyoko didn't know.

Sanohe Shouka, from what Chiyoko could remember from her surname the Sanohe were merchants of some sort or other and on one particular occasion her eldest brother had missapropriated some choice goods from a Sanohe, hopefully they hadn't been close relatives to Mrs. Shouka. Regardless of said circumstances she felt no need to hide her name, ever proud to be related to petty thugs, "Wakahisa Chiyoko.<i></i> as far as an exit to the forest went she only knew the path that she had created through her various trips; though she didn't have time to reply as Shouka caught a rustling in a bush drawing her weapon again. She couldn't help but wonder what the kid's issue was, animals lived in the forest and they tended to make a bit of noise which was probably what the rustling was. The small Shinobi certainly seemed to be a bit on edge.

"I know the way back into town, but we're still about two kilometers away. I can --<i></i>" She cut her proclamation short as the sound of a squealing pig rang through the area and a woman moved from the immediate bushes. Chiyoko immediately peered toward the woman, immediately taking in that she was both in rather homely clothing and quite beautiful in the most traditional sense of the word, raven-haired with a full figure.

What was more interesting than the fact that she was holding a pig and undeniably beautiful was that she immediately demanded payment for some wrong that she felt was committed against her, Chiyoko couldn't tell if she was joking or moving in some sort of act of extortion. With that being said, she retorted in a rather facetious manner without skipping a beat, despite the fact that hadn't been shooting the arrows "Do you take credit, or perhaps an I.O.U? I'm afraid I don't carry that large a sum on me, dad always told me someone might mug me.<i></i>", an inane request such as the woman's required an equally inane response. Chiyoko enjoyed extortion as much as the next person but it was a bit tactless to open a conversation with it.

 

[Shouka]

(Also no problem with it.)

“Wakahisa Chiyoko.”

Wakahisa? She had heard the name somewhere before. The irritating feeling of having heard something and not being able to remember it just when you needed to started up. She looked upward in deliberation. Waka...hisa.

Shouka remembered. Her uncle Shiki had stormed into their shop a few months ago, and started ranting passionately to anyone who was unfortunate enough to be around- her parents and a few very disgruntled customers- about those 'damn Wakahisa', and when he was done left to go complain to the next closest set of family members. Apparently, the whole speech didn't reflect much on real life; since, according to her father, uncle Shiki had a massive 'victim complex' (which she knew meant that he liked to exaggerated things), but Shouka's mother had just happened to 'randomly' pull her aside the same evening to give her a stern lecture about 'hanging out with the wrong crowd'. It all made alarm bells go off in her head now, with the Wakahisa girl standing in front of her, which, really, was probably the goal of the lecture. Shouka looked at the other girl; the tattoo, the eyes, and very suddenly and conspicuously averted her eyes.

She briefly considered trying to find her own way back, at the girl's offer. Just how big could the Ancient Forest be? She looked around, then realised there was pretty much no way she would make it out before it got dark. Stop being such a wuss, just go with her.
Just then, the bushes rustled yet again, this time so clearly that the brunette girl turned to look- Shouka felt a little validated at that- and a woman stepped out into their view.

She looked like something from a movie rather than real life, with silky hair and princess-like features, but the scruffy clothes she was wearing tore that image apart; not to mention the pig. All in all, she looked surreal. The pig's owner opened her mouth and complained about the trouble the erratic shooting had caused her pet pig. Shouka had the dignity to blush. She reached up and habitually fidgeted with her hair, messy and matted with sweat from hours of archery practice.

Before she could stutter out a reply, Chiyoko spoke up. Shouka looked at her, shocked, for a moment and quickly turned back to the pig's owner. She had no idea why the brunette hadn't just blamed her for the shooting- it was her fault, after all- and gone back to her running. Especially since Shouka was clearly the one holding the bow. But that was exactly was the young girl- Chiyoko- was doing. She wasn't sure whether to be leery or thankful. No, thankful was probably the better option. She wasn't a ninja just yet, after all.

“I don't have a million yen,” She muttered, turning to the vaguely-kind-of-not-really princess-like woman, “but, well, I was just leaving, so there won't be any more, er, shooting.” To illustrate, she pointed the direction the woman had come from, which she thought might have been the way out. The shooting thing wasn't a lie, either. In fact, she was pretty sure she wouldn't ever pick up a bow again.

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Yes, I'm trying to extort a pair of kids. Before you seriously start to doubt my sanity, I don't actually expect them to be able to cough up a million on the spot. The dinky redhead probably has a whole five yen in greasy change flecked with week-old cheeto crumbs and Miss Lankiness over there might be willing to give me a melty gummy bear in her pocket. Just. Eew. No, what I really wanted was just to be a dick. Because I can, and because it makes me feel better to intimidate the powerless. There, I admitted it.

Miss Lankiness might actually be a bit of a dick herself, though. The sheer nerve of asking me if I take credit like she can swipe a piece of plastic between my boobs and call it a day. You don't develop that kind of acid wit without growing up in a house full of boys with nothing better to do than be assholes and cover every habitable surface with lard and unmentionable bodily fluids. In that situation you either withdraw or you grow thorns, and it seems she's grown big ones. The thought of Twiggy over here giving some scummy brother of hers a wet-willy and making him squeal brings an unbidden grin to my extortion face and I start to laugh.

"You're a total bitch, you know that?" I say. "Don't get me wrong, though, I mean that in the best of ways. This village chews up and spits out nice girls who get along and look pretty, but an insufferable git like you might make it to Jounin one day."

The redhead mumbles something about not having a million yen and trying to leave. I'm wondering how she doesn't slip on all of the spaghetti falling out of her pockets. I sigh inside. You're doing it wrong, Ginger-face. I drop Meat Bowl and he lets out an indignant squeal which is probably piggy-speak for "I've got your number bitch you'll pay and don't think you won't pay because I ran the animal farm with an iron hoof and got Snowball torn apart by dogs." Sorry, Pig, but I've got no time for politics.

"And where do you think you're going?" I say, placing my hands on my hips. "You can't just walk away from a shakedown like that. I'm a chuunin. I own both your asses. So I'm going to make you both dig for truffles since my beloved companion over here can't do his job anymore. You may address me as 'Milady' or 'Mistress Takaki' or simply 'Mistress.' Oh, and Redhead, choke up your grip on that bow. It may be a shoddy recurve model but it's a better shooter than you are, given your technique."

Hah, I don't even know their names and I'm already ruining their day. This is great.

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

It quickly became apparent that the young Shouka had connected the mental dots of what her tattoo meant as she quickly turned her gaze from it, most people did the same. She couldn't exactly blame her for wishing to avoid the conversational topic, her family didn't exactly have the best reputation with outsiders, especially when it came to topics such as the clan's crest.

After her aversion there seemed to be another awkward pause in the conversation as she, or as Chiyoko assumed, contemplated allowing the rather Shinobi to guide them out of the forest. Before the younger Shinobi could give express consent to the idea a pig squealed out and a rather Dickish Kunoichi appeared from the bushes with a laughable request for one million yen under some ridiculous pretense, leading Shouka shoot into an obvious nervous state. So, being the quick witted gal she was Chiyoko had to quip on the utterly absurd demand in a less-than-caustic manner. All the while it seemed Shouka had returned to staring at her, clearly having not expected her to speak, sort of, on her behalf.

Shouka's reply seemed to be the near antithesis of Chiyoko's she claimed that she had no such amount of money and that she would stop her practice in archery leading Chiyoko to stare at her cantankerously. For a moment she wished the younger girl would have joined in her quip but it was all too apparent that such a thing would not be happening, she seemed far too timid for any further humor to be injected into the conversation.

Chiyoko's acerbic comments on paying the woman appeared to be well received by the Dickish Kunoichi as she gave a slight chuckle before calling her a bitch, in a good way, which she had been called by plenty of people plenty of times. Her compliments were obviously back-handed, but that only made it a bit more fun to reply to her, "Well, I certainly appreciate the compliments, and I guess it takes an insufferable git to know one.</COLOR><i></i>" if anyone in this particular situation was an 'insufferable git' it was the Dickish Kunoichi.

The woman only proved that she was in fact the 'insufferable git' of the group further as she dropped her animal who returned with angry grunts and squeals, what was this girl's issue? -- Her issue became air apparent as she demanded that the two dig for truffles and address her as "Mistress", claiming that because she was a Shinobi and higher ranking that she 'owned their asses', she was certainly charming.

A light giggle escaped her lips at the newest requests, her attempts at intimidation were exceptionally droll, "I don't know about her," she quickly pointed over toward Shouka, "<COLOR color="purple">but I certainly won't be digging for truffles, and I think I'd rather address you as Asinine-San. So, that's what I'm going to call you, Asinine-San.<i></i>" the woman was damn crazy. Chiyoko looked back over toward Shouka her offer to guide her from the forest still stood and it would no doubt annoy the shit out of the third Shinobi if they did in fact just walk off, "Let's get going, it's not in good tastes to humor the mentally deranged.<i></i>" she couldn't help but simper as she made her comment, finding it hilariously biting.

 

[Shouka]

She half-listened to the conversation between Takaki Saeko and Chiyoko, trying to decide which route out the forest was less likely to result in her getting murdered by an axe. Saeko, however, was not having it, and she said as much. All hopes of escaping the situations crushed, Shouka resigned herself to slumping in place, a sinking feeling in her stomach. The next thing the woman said surprised the redhead.

Waitwaitwait- She's a what? A chuunin?

From her clothes, Shouka hadn't guessed her to be a ninja at all. In retrospect, she should have at least considered the possibility. There was no way she could challenge a chuunin as an academy student. This one, especially, didn't look particularly forgiving.

I just had to pick the best person to nearly hit with an arrow. She nervously wondered whether she'd settle on some cruel punishment or skip all that and just report them right to the- the whoever dealt with unruly academy students.

Strangely enough, though, her only demand was for them to find truffles for her. Shouka raised her eyebrows sceptically. Was that all? At the most, it was a little demeaning, but she'd done worse manual tasks, and she was already kind of sweaty from all the arrow shooting. Does she have some kind of agenda? She couldn't think of what kind of cruel twist involved truffle digging. So, maybe the woman really needed help. Maybe she just liked seeing students roll around in the dirt. Either way, this was a lucky break. After all, how hard could finding truffles be? She would try to find a way out of calling her milady, though. That was a bit too demeaning.

Shouka moved to accept, but mid-nod something about the chuunin's expression made her reconsider. She was suddenly not sure if this was the right idea. Worse come to worse, it was her word against theirs, and a couple of students wouldn't be taken seriously.

Ah, now what? She thought, panicking internally. She tried to come up with some way out of the situation. Luckily, the brunette girl saved her the trouble.

Shouka gaped slightly at Chiyoko's brazen denial. Asinine, mentally deranged? She had no idea who she was, but Chiyoko had guts. Lots of guts. Guts that Shouka did not have. She turned back to Takaki.

“I could find you one or two truffles. Your... contract animal is at least healthy enough to help, right?” Because if this did turn into back breaking labour, she figured having a professionally trained pig would help. She shot another look at Chiyoko, and her chest tightened. Not just because she was afraid that she had ticked off a gang member, either.

I can't just turn down a chuunin's orders. She thought, tugging the collar of her shirt a bit higher.

(Lackluster post, buuut spending hours at the dentist killed my ability to write.)

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Poor Red. She's a perfect example of what we call a "long-suffering woman living hard," and she's not even allowed to drink (technically). I feel like if you're going to get shat on by everyone around you, at least you should be allowed to self-medicate with booze and benzos. It's the only reason every major figure in power finds the strength to carry on and live another day. Otherwise, you become Hayata Shin, who in his first days as Raikage installed a juice bar in the Torre Celeste. That's right, a juice bar.

You may be thinking: "what's wrong with making a wholesome source of fruit and vegetables available to a bunch of alcoholic, borderline-mentally-retarded trained murderers who've got as many emotional issues as they have venereal diseases?" Actually, there's probably nothing wrong with that except that my father blew it up and it never got rebuilt. The Raikage learned his lesson and now there's a proper bar there with 5-yen beer on Wednesday mornings. Because fuck Wednesdays.

Some shred of decency buried deep inside wants to pet Red on the head and tell her not to worry about finding anything for me, it's all good, and that she should study hard to become a genin. It's what Jo would have wanted me to do. A moment of quiet compassion to soften the harshness of our world. A reminder that we're all human here and we have to support each other lest we all succumb to the quietude of despair. Thank Jesus Saito then, for Miss Lankiness and what a total raging ballbag she is!

The sheer fucking nerve of the girl. I love it. I think she knows on a fundamental level that I'm not just pretending to be a chuunin, as we all have the innate ability to sniff out each other's power level in a general sense. Asinine-san? I'll show her asinine. Thank you, kid, because now I don't have to give in to my weakness.

"What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Shinobi Academy, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Leaf, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire Lightning Country armed forces..."

I catch a glimpse of her wrist and stop. Dat tattoo. And I bet if you lifted up Miss Lankiness's shirt you'd see a pretty awesome start to a classic full-back spread that every hardcore clan successor gets filled in on her way to the top. Hers is probably some sort of cliche bullshit like a naked lady riding a dragon or something. I'd often wondered why so many underworld types had markers of their status so visible to the public, but I figured it out while ago. It's because things like tats are a great plot hook.

"Oh... you're the oyabun's little spawn, aren't you? Chiquita or something?" I actually don't need her to confirm her lineage, as no one else would have that particular tattoo on her wrist. "Okay, fine, I guess I won't slap the Jesus Tears out of you. You know, I meet with your father occasionally. The whole yakuza thing doesn't bother me because you pay your debts and help us out. Oh, you didn't know? Your type and us government parasites are constantly in bed with each other. You keep the rabble anesthetized and we keep you out of jail. Oh, speaking of being in bed, last time I met your old man was in that 'Red Sunset' theater in the Crono, you know, where they don't pixellate and the tissues are refreshed more than once a month. He turned to me from the next seat over and was all like: 'Takaki-san, please watch over my daughter. She is of a tender age and subject to the temptations that ruin young women.' So I was like: 'But Wakahisa-dono, I'm always in the mood for cherry pie!' and we both had a laugh. Okay, I was slightly wasted then and he might've actually asked me to fuck your face up, but I'll take the parental concern version instead."

There's a look on the girl's face that I can't quite parse out. Red must be shitting her boots. I have that effect on people.

"What? At least in this version I keep my pants on. So listen, I'll take back what I said earlier, except the part about you being a total bitch because you really are one. I'll think I'll call you Bitch-chan instead. Also, I have a deal. You two help me dig up some shrooms and I'll make it worth your while. You've ever had real pasta before? I don't mean the neckbeard excrement that falls out of pockets and ends up in boxes at Shinobi-mart. I mean real stuff that guidos from Water Country shiv each other over."

Meat Bowl sidles up to Red and starts to sniff at her shoes excitedly. I get the feeling he's about to pee on them but instead he starts to gnaw at the leather straps. He'd make a great little roast with some shredded cabbage, but I have to pay the rental guy like a thousand yen if Red executes him for ripping her Nikes.

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

There were certain aspects of the unsound that some might consider amicable, one such trait was that they rarely knew how to filter themselves and the crazy shrew Chiyoko found herself dealing with had such a trait in spades, the woman was easily the most entertaining person she had met in months. The diction she used in both her insults and in her demands were prolifically witty and astringent, a great combination for any would-be ass. That being said, the woman did have a fair amount of charm about her, it was fairly obvious that she intended to be a malicious with her words and even so she was roguishly copacetic. Having grown up with exceptionally thick skin Chiyoko couldn't help but like the woman in some sort of ass-backward way. The more turgid probably found the woman insufferable, but then again the more turgid generally found her insufferable as well. If anything Asinine-San was fun to (roughly) banter with, even if it wasn't all well meant or in good taste.

Shouka, while quite nice, seemed drab and meek by comparison. She reminded Chiyoko of the many people are family leaned on, folks who folded when the slightest amount of pressure was applied to them, people who were well meaning but ultimately easily malleable. Weak did not seem to be the best word for her, but from what she had seen so far she seemed to lack vertebrae, having the backbone of a jelly-fish or some other weirdly pliable animal. Nice enough kid, though. Chiyoko could feel the Dark-eyed Kunoichi's ogle as she poked the figurative bear, while Shouka may have accepted the mild harassment under the pretext that Asinine-San was higher ranking Chiyoko was certainly not going to take it laying down, it simply wasn't in her nature.

Asinine-San's reply to her new name was great, an obvious and hilarious fabrication of some former truth, her statements reminded her of the man who sits at the end of the bar claiming he knows Jeet Kune Do and could murder you with a one-inch punch, funny in a sad way. "And I know over 700 ways to kill a man, including a technique called the 'penetrator', it was so dangerous the villages had to have a tribunal to ban it.<i></i>" She couldn't have been more facetious if she wanted to, her facetious-ness was at maximum level on track to an impending overload.

Some time between the grown-ups bantering Shouka had managed to let out a tepid claim that she would find the woman a few truffles, all the while shooting gazes between the two obviously wanting to appease both of them, but that simply wasn't possible. Chiyoko caught her, giving her a stare the said something along the likes of 'Are you serious? You can't be serious.' she needed no words to convey her disappointment, the look she shot over did that with ease. Back to the whole 'pliable like a jelly-fish' thing.

Chiyoko couldn't help but perk up a bit as the woman seemed to know who she was, who were father was and so forth, throughout her story she couldn't help but think that the woman painted herself as some sort of government-mandated-woman-of-the-night, pops certainly wasn't spry enough to pull eighteen year old beauties without a good amount of coin, especially in such a place as the woman described, if she intended to offend a Yakuza's daughter by implying her father had loose morals and a poor choice of scenery it probably wasn't going to work. As far as her family being snuggled up to the bureaucratic parasites of the government went, she was already well aware, being one of those successions her family allowed. A 'Here take my daughter for your weird espionage shit and leave us alone.', sort of deal. "Did he pay you well for the visit, or do you just hang around with seedy old gentlemen because it makes you feel alive? If you did charge him I certainly hope he kept the receipt, could probably claim it as tax deductible. Those 1040 E's are killers, have to make sure to claim the little expenses too.<i></i>" Their conversation seemed to be taking stranger and stranger turns, next thing would probably be her inviting them to dinner. ... Wait, what?

For a second there it seemed like she was offering to cook some home-made noodles for Bitch-Chan, a name which she fancied, and Red if they helped out, but that couldn't be right, could it? It could, apparently. Well, this seemed to be an opportunity that she couldn't rightfully pass up, having a meal with Asinine-San who she couldn't help but imagine would only spout out more interesting conversation. She would help, keyword help, dig some mushrooms for that opportunity. "First you attempt to extort us, now coercion with pasta? A woman after my own heart.<i></i>", besides what did she have to lose other than a few hours?

The pig seemed to be getting restless as it moved in on Shouka's shoes, little known fact about pigs, while they are known as one of the smartest mammals most people don't realize that they're huge jerks as evidenced by the one chewing on Shouka's shoes. Chiyoko's mind drifted from the pig to what she knew of the local flora, Chiyoko knew that the area not only hosted the truffles Asinine-San was looking but a plethora of Psilocybin Mushrooms as well, and she didn't particularly want to trip major balls. Hopefully the woman and her pig knew what they were looking for.

 

[Takaki Saeko]

I think this is a busy time of the year for Shouka, who I’m presuming is a student. So, I’ll make a post and move along.

Ooh! You’ve definitely got the gutter-mouth to fit in with the boys, Miss Wakahisa Chiquita Banana, I think as Bitch-chan goes on about how she’s all hip with the knowledge of Ancient Chinese Secrets like The Penetrator, The Shocker, and The Spocker. I want to tell her that this is all basic one-hand-seal jutsu invented by shinobi fratboys at Lightning National University because none of them have actually seen a Real Live Vagina ™ before. Then again, I’m not sure if Lightning National actually has fraternities on campus anymore since they all died of mixing alcohol and poppers.

“What, were you trying to make me feel ashamed by saying I’m a prostitute or something?” I sneer at her. “Dohohohoh! Saeko-san pleases old men for money! Dohohohoh!” I trill in a bad imitation of a malignant socialite. “Yeah, that’s you, alright. And what if I was bangin’ your old man for stock options and bearer bonds, hmm? Are you saying that the women engaged in the business are somehow lesser human beings? You’re a fine one to judge, hah!”

Meat Bowl, having sampled his fill of shoe-leather scented with the sublime smell of unwashed girl feet (200 times smellier than any boy’s!), rolls over and shows his belly to Red like he’s expecting her to pet him for being such a little bastard. Go the fuck to work! I think at him with all of my telepathic shinobi powers, like that time when I won at that crane game in the arcade and got the stuffed whale I’d been eyeing. Actually, I think I went and coathangered the plushie out of the machine with all the grace of a back-alley abortion but I like to believe that my willpower was a factor, too. Perhaps fearing being punctured with a rusty metal shiv himself, Meat Bowl seems to get the message and starts sniffing excitedly around the base of one of the trees. I look at Miss Lankiness and shrug.

“Alright, Bitch-chan, looks like the pig found something. Here’s a trowel, start digging where he is. Remember, what you’re looking for looks like a gigantic booger and smells like a thousand unwashed assholes. You need to get it before the pig does. If he’s being really feisty he might bite you. If that happens, just punch him in the head a few times and he’ll let go. Now, sun’s going down fast so I’ll need those shrooms quick! And you, Red, start harvesting what you can, too. Remember, avoid the ones with red and white caps and shit. Eating those is like a bannable offense on this site.”

With that, I kind of go off and pretend to look busy and dig. I’m the master of looking like I’m being productive. Just ask the Sennin. I can shit around on the interwebs for hours and make it look like I’m saving the entire village from the second coming of Aion. Actually, I wouldn't oppose it if the Third Raikage came back. That sword-fucker (literally) has got to have some amazing stories.

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

"Hey, I'm not the one who goes exclaiming their experiences in adult-theaters, but whatever floats your boat. Besides, like you said I'm not in much a position to judge others, even if they're an utterly malignant ass.<i></i>" She thought of accusing Asinine-San's mother of being a hamster and her father smelling of elderberries, but that would have ultimately crossed the line. You don't cross that line, wars had been started by crossing that line, have I mentioned that's a line that's not to be crossed?

The pig still seemed to be doing what pigs did best, being complete and utter asses, though it seemed he had finished with his fill of Shouka's shoes. Normally Chiyoko quite liked animals, but there were of course a few exceptions: Snakes, Spiders, Bears, and Pigs. The standard affair, well mostly the standard affair. She was almost certain that the animals were smart enough to know that they were aggravating their betters and seemed to continue to do so as if giving them the middle fingers, probably retribution for pork tenderloin and other assorted dishes. He seemed to have caught a whiff of the prize as the pig quickly moved to a tree leading him to circle about it excitedly.

Asinine-San seemed to catch onto this as well as she offered a small spade, seemed she would allow a bit of man-handling when it came to her ass-hole pig. Normally Chiyoko would probably refuse the possibility of harming an animal, but then again she wasn't dealing with any animal. " Will do, Chief Asinine-San.<i></i>" She quipped taking the small spade that had just been offered, it also seemed that she knew of the magic mushrooms that inhabited the forest, thank God. If there was anyone in this world she didn't want near any such thing it was Asinine-San. Of course, she still questioned the validity of her offer of pasta, Chiyoko couldn't help but think that she probably wasn't the most trustworthy person, but then again there was a chance. Seemed in her best interest to help, just in case.

Chiyoko made her way toward the disgusting animal crouching beside it as he burrowed his nose into the ground, seemed he had legitimately found something. Without an ounce of remorse she shoulder checked the small animal sending him off to the side as she quickly dug the spade into the ground, quickly closing onto the prize, sadly it wouldn't be that easy as the pig sprung back into the fray with agility of a cat before chomping onto the back of her hand breaking skin and drawing a bit of blood, and with that it was on. "Not cool, you little prick!<i></i>" She roared at the damnable animal, her other hand quickly found it's way to the top of the pig's head smacking him just hard enough for him to release and skitter back a few inches deterred from making another move. Their little exchange allowed Chiyoko to capture a few of the horrid smelling Truffles. As with most other things she seemed to have a bit of a Midas touch, though she usually found herself looking like a moron in the process. I.E. Being attacked by a fairly docile animal, God she hated pigs. "Got a couple.<i></i>" She called out in case they hadn't noticed her altercation and yelling.

[Mft]

 

[Takaki Saeko]

I think about farting in her general direction. I've been making various types of fermented cabbage and if there's one thing that cabbage does far better than any known vegetable in the world, it's creating flatulence. Not just any cheeto-accented BS that's redolent of mass-market wieners but a true olfactory orgy worthy of the most discerning critics' tastes. By the way, dear reader: girls fart, and if you've ever seen the inside of a women's public restroom you've definitely stared into the abyss. It also definitely winked back at you.

Chief Asinine-San. The frigging nerve of this one. Why can't she just be some submissive flower that I can stick in a cup of water to slowly wilt into fraying wisps of brown? Then again, it's boring to be with those sorts of people. No wonder my father went for mother in the end; without challenge, relationships tend to ferment, and not in the good way of carefully-salted cabbage in a crock but in the bad way of the scrap heap. I need a partner to piss me off as much as he or she gets me off. But perhaps that's just my damage talking. I really want to blast Bitch-chan right now.

But...it's unethical to attack someone from behind like that. If I'm going to bomb her I need to at least announce my attack out loud like they do in them Chinese Cartoons. Fortunately, Meat Bowl comes to the rescue and gives her what for. When a pig wants something tasty, you'd better be prepared to fight the bastard for your meal. I erupt in laughter as Bitch-chan gets chomped and smacks Meat Bowl on the head. They say that people with Cluster B personality disorders don't really have a traditional sense of humor. That the only thing that really gets them to laugh is slapstick, because nearly all other comedy requires some sense of self-deprecation to enjoy.

"It sounds like you won the Meat Bowl," I cackle, while restraining my pig. I take him up and throw him across my shoulders, and he protests by trying to piss down my back. Fortunately, I've foreseen this and angle him so that the golden stream rockets into nothingness. I am the apex predator, not you. "Alright, keep the truffles on you. We'll go and return Prince Charming over here and then off to my place. Unless that is, you wanna keep him. But I'm not paying for that."

A little while later, it's with a small twinge of regret that I pass Meat Bowl back to the rental jii-san. In this short time, the malicious little git has grown on me. He's petty, vindictive, lazy, and doesn't do his job well. A man after my own heart. I'll wait for you next the cherry blossoms bloom, My Prince. I'll make sure to have you on top of some noodles, your fat-back scorched with a blowtorch in a cash-only restaurant because the owner is shady and doesn't want to get involved with the CC companies. I'll wear that special comb with that special yukata and with every bite I'll think to myself: Could use more pepper.

Back at my place, I cram Bitch-chan and Red into the cramped confines of my apartment and shove a can of crappy beer into their hands while I go and boil the water for pasta. I can tell by their disappointed expressions that they clearly expected me to live in some sort of hideously opulent mansion like every other player-character shinobi in the village, and not some dingy studio. The horrible truth is that all of those guys are actually deep in the shitpit of multiple bankruptcy and owe something like a gorrillion yen in back taxes. One of Hayata Shin's more obscure titles (besides the obvious ones like "Crab Crusher," "Lobster Dinner," and "Kinky Business") is this: "Khan of Subprime Mortgages." That should tell you something.

I've actually pre-made the pasta in the anticipation of a successful truffle hunt and, yes, I admit it: company. It's an old habit I picked up while I was still living with my fiance before he fucked off to jail like any man is expected to do in his life. But I digress. The key to making a good, chewy pasta is in the ratio of durum semolina (DS) to all-purpose flour (APF). Commercial pastas use mostly APF and maybe a smattering of DS because DS is expensive and harder to work with. When you buy all-DS or mostly-DS pasta at the store expect to pay a premium (and far more than you should). That being said, using all DS is actually not the way to go. You end up with an overly glutinous mess that won't tolerate the noodle-cutting process and will end up as a gloppy mess that will have Italian Plumbers jumping off your roof to die in a pool of their own Ragu. My preferred ratio is half-DS, half-APF, and with 6 eggs and 2 tablespoons Olive oil. No, it doesn't have to be EVOO (screw off, Rachel Ray!), because this stuff all ends up getting boiled anyway. And you'd better have a crank-handle noodle cutter because trying to manually make noodles with a knife and cutting board is old-country-slave-housewife-tier and we're in Post-Apocalyptic Japanistan where women have rights, dammit. Pfft. Anyway, when you're done making the noodles you can cook them immediately or refrigerate them. Make sure the water is at a rolling boil and plunge it in for 3-8 minutes.

For the sauce, simple is best, I've found. DO NOT put the truffles into your sauce straight up. You'll lose all flavor and look like an idiot and I'll have to introduce you to my shot-bolter. Rather, saute some alliums (onions, leeks, etc) until soft, then throw in a can of peeled tomatoes and beat them like they owe you money. Simmer for 45 minutes. In the meantime, take a measure of olive oil and turn to low heat (not bubbling), and immerse rolled up basil leaves, crushed garlic cloves, and red pepper flake. Don't throw this into the sauce. It's to drizzle on after you ladle the sauce onto your pasta. THEN, and only then, take the sharpest knife you have (the one for self-defense against perverts) and peel flakes of truffle on top of the whole thing. Make sure your guests actually breathe the smell in, because eating a piece of truffle is actually really disappointing by itself.

It's the first time I've had company over since Jo went to prison. It feels too good. A part of me wants to herd them out the door at the barrel of a shotbolter. Damn hedgehog dilemma...

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

Asinine San's face was priceless, the sheer unadulterated aggravation thinly masked by the face of a proverbial sociopath as she was referred to as Chief was nothing short of exceptional. Of course this was the fun of dicking around with her, that and her barbed tongue, still it was mainly the look as if saying: "I'm going to karate chop you like you were a racist dwarf.", because that look totally exists. ... Hopefully she didn't know Karate. I mean, she does have over 300 confirmed kills, one might safely assume she karate chopped someone to death among those kills, right? Probably not.

Seemed Asinine-San at least had some form of humanity about her as she clucked while Chiyoko was fending for her life against her Satan-Pig. The duel was short lived as the pig fell back, dominance had been asserted and even without the need mark her territory. That was a plus. Of course on top of this she hauled in a decent catch in the truffles, but it was no where near the level of gratification that smacking Meat-Bowl had gotten her. That animal was about as mingy as her current master, they were a match made in the bowels of Hades itself.

"Ddddrrrruuuummm roll please!<i></i>" Ha, The Meat Bowl the pun deserved a sardonic drum roll of great length and volume. "Badum Tss.<i></i>" She continued making the supposed sound of a snare drum whilst rolling her eyes, enough of an answer to the question of keeping the damnable animal instead of returning it to it's owner, who she had no doubt had to be an ass to produce such a horrid animal. All the while Satan-Pig seemed to be attempting to assert his dominance all down the back of Asinine-San, she was having none of that nonsense.

Soon afterward came the time where they had to return Asinine-San's one true love to it's rightful owner, she was surprised that the woman didn't break down into tears as the beast was sent back into it's pen. Chiyoko sneered at Meat-Bowl as they began to walk away, throwing up a middle finger to her new found nemesis while shouting a few choice words at him, "That's right, bitch! You're in there and I'm out here, I win!<i></i>" sticking her tongue at the damnable beast all the while. No one had ever accused the girl of being a beacon of maturity.

Afterward the three found themselves shoved into the confines of a humble flat, which frankly reminded her a good bit of her own home. Ah, the clan tenements where it wasn't a party until dad started laughing about the most recent stabbing. Good times. A light beer was thrust into her hands by Asinine-san who clearly did not care that the two were not only underage, but one of them couldn't have possibly been over the age of ten. Of course Chiyoko thought this new situation was nothing short of 'Fuckin' Sweet!', she had just gotten a free drink and didn't even have to ask for it. Obviously her better judgement told her to sit the beer down in favor of something non-alcoholic, but I mean when did better judgement ever win out over stupid fun? Never, that's when.

So, like a 27 year old alcoholic community-college dropout Chiyoko took the keys out of her pocket in a deep moment of contemplation briefly looking over the younger of the three inquisitively, to shotgun or not to shotgun that is the question: whether it is nobler to, something, something, something. Well, I mean if you're going to have a lapse in judgement you might as well have a major lapse in judgement, dad always said do everything all the way don't half-ass it. Without further thought she poked a whole toward the bottom of the can and inhaled the crap beer. There's crap beer and then there's crap beer, this particular was the latter. It was no Stella-Nobi, Heine-San, or even Coors-Nin. It was some terrible Japanistanian Piss-weiser knock-off, which was simply to worst thing she had ever had to drink in her life. Still it was alcohol, and she rarely had the chance to drink outside of the family's compound.

Come to think of it she didn't really drink all that much inside the family's compound ... The drink caused no buzz, just an immediate grumble in her stomach followed by a rather loud belch, as per the usual she was a beacon of femininity and grace. Maybe one drink was enough, she didn't have a designated-walker with her, after all. Drawing attention away from her rather loud faux pas Chiyoko quickly quipped, "Must say, I like your digs. I hear most of the higher ranked Shinobi live surrounded by gaudy shit, golden faucets and stuff like that. Not this place, though. Nice and simple.<i></i>" she thought of making a more back-handed comment, but consider how the woman was cooking for them and all it didn't seem all that gracious as a visitor.

"So, is this the part where you murder us for our organs?<i></i>" She asked jokingly as it seemed Asinine-San had turned her attitude back, even if by a minuscule amount.

[MFT]

 

[Takaki Saeko]

I smell Bitch-chan as I come out of the kitchen. She probably thinks her little mouth-poot was some sort of hell-spawned olfactory war crime that will go down in history with all of the other famous atrocities they make you read about in the Academy. You know, shit like My-Lai, The Rape of Nanking, and the Trail of Tears. Well, if she wants to go on trial at Nuremberg, she'd better up her game and grow a bit, first. Little-girl burps and farts are delicate floral arrangements slaved over by yamato nadeshiko with bound feet compared to the true odors that a grown woman (like me!) can produce. I've driven Jo out of the god damned apartment in the middle of the night by letting one rip under the sheets, and I didn't even need to wrap the blankets around his head. Once, I belched in his ear and he lost hearing for a week. But I also admit that compared to the big-leaguers like Kagetsu Kiyo or even my mother, I might as well be a perfume counter at the mall.

"Mmm! Smells like the perfume that was in style a few years ago," I say, and plunk the bowls of spaghetti down in front of the girls. I sit myself down cross-legged at the little table and dig in with my own fork. I've poured myself a pilsner of some of the higher-quality beer in the house: one of those Flemish sour ales brewed with rapey little microbes not found in the more plebian offerings sold at Ninja-Mart. See, I may not have a large apartment, but I spend what I can on food and drink. A Ninja-Aid 5-gallon stand mixer is my prized possession, more so than any fancy sword or severed S-class danger beast's baculum. Finally, I can use my skills and "weaponry" on something pleasant, like having dinner with two fr... ...eeloaders.

"You're not supposed to know this," I say to Bitch-chan's comment about my crib, "but most of the old clans can't pay the land taxes anymore. They maintain their ginormous houses on about a gorrillion yen's worth of debt. Clam-fucker-sama turns a blind eye to it because they're willing to do favors to save face, but the second the guy gets replaced by someone else, it's going to turn into the biggest foreclosure shitstorm in Cloud history." I point my fork at her for emphasis. "The sad truth is, no one in this village can really afford to buy a parcel of the land here. We're living in a fuckin' extinct volcano on a mountainside and can't spread out too much or the Lightning Gubmint will kill us. Hence, real estate is through the roof, and most of the land is owned by either the Raikage or the Council and they're under constant pressure to make tithe to the Shogun. It doesn't matter that Shiranai-sama is fucking a Cloud kunoichi, money is money! Anyway, the point is that unless you regularly walk around with about a billion yen shoved up your vajayjay, you are what is considered 'Sub Prime', and you are exactly who the Council likes to sell to using shady math that only passes the sort of limp-dicked review process you'd find in the 'scientific research' conducted by Shinrya Kitsune! The only sensible option is to rent, at least on your salary and also mine. Technically, we all could be on food stamps, but the Conservatives in the Council of Nobles say it leads us to 'immoral behavior and an aversion to work.' Which, if you look at how often people post here, is already true."

Stop, Saeko. You're having too much fun. You're opening up too much. You're going to get hurt again.

Shut up, brain! I'll shove a Q-tip into you again!

"The bottom line is that if Hayata Shin ever takes the fall, all of the debt is going to get called in all at once, and you're going to have a lot of tears and butthurt. We're looking at hostile land-grabs from Stone Village, and we're already subsidizing both Mist and Smoking Crater. You know, that shitty little hovel at the base of the village where the Sunan Space Program crash-landed and the people have to wear spacesuits because otherwise they'll turn into goo. What, you never heard about that debacle? I'll take you there sometime. We'll have their Medical Waste yaki-tori, with real hypodermic needles included.

"Anyway, do you know how much paperwork there's going to be for me? Every villager complains about doing ninja paperwork, which really means most people can't spell their own names correctly. But I have to actually write down how many beans and yen each family owes to the Council. I'm considering ripping my own tits off as a more pleasant alternative. And of course, I'm doing this alone because the office motto is 'Reading is for...' you know the rest."

Based on the flow of the conversation, I can tell that my own destructive need to push everyone away is surfacing again. I'd better let them go before I start spontaneously crying or something. Bitch-chan does not get to see me burst into treats. I hope she enjoyed the pasta. I pull my VP70 pistol bolter out of my waistband and lazily sweep them with the muzzle.

"And now it's time for you to leave. Before I actually do harvest yer organs. They say cute little girls' pancreases go for like a million yen. I could finally afford my own house," I cackle, and gesture at the door. After I'm sure they're on their way home (safely), I intend to spend the rest of the night sobbing on the floor.

Some people have Miller Time. Some people shoot up heroin. I choose Jesus.