It's Going To Be A Long Day... [Private]

Age : 31 Posts : 1836

• Continued From •
GET TO THE SHIP!!!

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The clatter of falling metal sounded as a cluster of coins dropped onto the wooden counter, and the genial merchant scooped them up with a grin and a word of thanks. His customer silently picked up a peach from a stack and then continued on his way. The Nukenin bit into the fruit as he navigated his way through the crowd of people all around him. It was close to noon, and the market was packed with hordes and hordes of customers. One could not walk two steps without having to push through the crowd; practically everyone was brushing shoulders against each other as they went about their shopping. Like many people, Masquerade did not enjoy rush hour times, but such times of the day could be advantageous for people like him. For one thing, everyone was too busy going about their business to pay any notice to a person as unconventionally-dressed as Masquerade. On the other hand, being around so many people meant that he had to be even more cautious; not to mention, crowds tended to get on even the most patient of people’s nerves. Masquerade was one of these people: one could only stand for so long being boxed in by sweaty, loud shoppers who seemed hell-bent on impeding the ease of one’s progress. The only good factor in this whole situation that Masquerade could come up with was that it was, at the very least, not unbearably hot.

It had not been long since the Jinchuuriki had arrived in Kaminari no Kuni. The ship he had stowed-away upon had stopped at a port not far from this town, and the boy had managed to slip off the boat and make his way out of the harbor without drawing attention to himself. It had helped that he had arrived at one of the port’s busiest hours, thus allowing him to leave the harbor with little notice. Twenty-plus minutes of travel on foot had brought him to this market town, which had already been booming with activity by the time it had come into his sights. Since the boy had no real objective to pursue at the moment, he had decided to head over to the settlement and find something to entertain him, or maybe grab a snack. He might even find some work for someone of his occupation.

Soon enough, Masquerade managed to escape from the throngs of consumers and into the spaciousness of an alley. Garbage and scavenging animals could be seen here and there as Masquerade walked through the shadowed space. As he swallowed the last bite of his peach and lazily flung the seed into a nearby trash can, he made note of how perfect this place would be for an ambush. Hell, if this was happening in a storybook, Masquerade would be expecting an occurrence of that sort. No sooner had he thought this, when he turned a corner and collided with something. Or more specifically, someone collided with him. The Nukenin staggered a number of steps back, eyes dropping down to look at the person who had run into him. The individual had been knocked onto his rear after colliding with Masquerade. If Masquerade was going to sum him up in a few words, he would use the following: fat and short. If he had the luxury of giving a more detailed description, then he would go on to mention that the boy (who was most likely in his late teens) had a tanned complexion, with a head of short black hair combed backwards, and was wearing a pair of circular sunglasses and a rather decorative and expensive-looking outfit. Oh, and he was fat and short.

Masquerade said nothing as the fat boy scrambled to his feet, hastily murmuring a word of apology to the Nukenin. Before the either could say anything further, a high-pitched shout of triumph cut through the air. Both males would look over in the direction the shorter had just come from to spot a trio of men appearing from around a corner. The three newcomers stopped a few feet away from Masquerade and the fat boy. Each was armed with a weapon, one a thick metal bar, the other a whip, and third a dagger; all three were dressed casually and in varyingly styles, save for the matching orange neckerchiefs. These scarf-wearing men glanced at each other for a moment, before glaring down at the fat boy at Masquerade’s feet. The foremost of the armed males advanced a step forward, barking at the fat boy, “Who’s this weirdo?”

The “weirdo” in question was obviously Masquerade, and the noun used to describe him was definitely due to his attire. Masquerade remained unperturbed despite the insult, calmly directing his attention to the boy seated on the ground. The latter glanced back and forth between Masquerade and the three men, and the frightened look on his face was very easy to notice. “Uh….,” the fat boy began, before quickly hurrying to stand behind Masquerade. The startled Nukenin followed the teenager with his obscured eyes as the latter more or less tried to hide himself behind the former. Peaking around the taller male’s form, the shorter one squeaked in reply, “He’s my bodyguard!”

The statement caused the three men to back up for a moment and begin to mutter amongst themselves. Meanwhile, unsurprisingly, Masquerade’s reply was a flat “what”, his bewildered face turned to the fat boy as he made this remark. Said fat boy responded by grasping Masquerade’s right forearm tightly and whispering at him, “Dude, you’re a ninja, right? Just play along!” Masquerade blinked unbelievingly at the male, wondering what was wrong with him. His confusion was quickly transformed into irritation as he wrenched his arm free of the individual’s grasp, at the same time pushing him away with a grimace. As if Masquerade was going to get involved in whatever the hell was going on between these four people. The three scarf-clad men clearly had a bone to pick with this sunglasses-wearing teen, and Masquerade was not going to just let himself be dragged into this situation.

That was the plan, but it seemed that such would not be the case. No sooner had Masquerade pushed the fat boy away when he heard a cry behind him, informing him that one of the men was charging him. Without looking back, Masquerade dropped to a squat, easily managing to dodge the metal cylinder that had been aimed at his head. The Nukenin gave his attacker no time to react to this dodge, for his arm shot upwards and grasped the latter’s own arm. Making use of his opponent’s momentum, Masquerade pulled the man’s arm, and subsequently his whole body, down to the waiting ground. Along with this move, the shinobi would leap into the air and plant a foot against the back of his attacker’s head to knock him to the ground more forcibly. While the first man landed face-first on the hard ground, Masquerade landed gently at his feet; a moment later, he would shift out of the way as a black whip cracked through the air in an attempt to strike him.

Since the shinobi’s evasive maneuver was a success, the whip ended up striking the first attacker’s legs. The man struck gave a loud yelp of pain and glanced over his shoulder at his partner in anger. The whip-wielding man winced at his mistake and began to hastily apologize to his friend; he was interrupted, however, by the trash can lid that flew into his stomach and pushed him back with its force. The second man fell into a pile of (surprise, surprise) more filled trash cans, which promptly knocked him out as they slammed onto his head. Masquerade shifted out of the throwing stance he had adopted to launch the trash can lid akin to a Frisbee. He then calmly sidestepped the overhead strike that the bar-wielder launched at him. The Nukenin swerved around the attack and just as calmly placed his hand against the back of his adversary’s head, prior to forcibly smashing it into a nearby wall. The force of the impact resulted in a loss of consciousness, and the man fell to the ground limply.

Wordlessly, Masquerade bent down and picked up the metal bar that the unconscious man had dropped. Securing his grip on the metal weapon, the Nukenin then turned to face the third and last scarf-wearing male. This one had not made a single move during entire scuffle. Now, as Masquerade directed his attention to him, the man with the dagger glanced uncertainly at his fallen comrades, and then raised his arms up in a gesture of surrender; he even let go of his weapon to indicate that he was serious. No verbal response came from the masked ninja as the defeated male grinned hopefully at him. There was a physical response, though: the metal rod was momentarily twirled in the holder’s hand, before it was abruptly flung through the air. The spinning metal rod hit the third man in the middle of his forehead with a loud “thud”, and he then dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

An irritated sigh escaped from Masquerade’s mouth as he looked at all three of the beaten men. He was not going to boast and say that he had won because he was so skilled. The honest truth was that these three were just plain weak, as demonstrated by how easily they had been taken out, and with such minimal effort on Masquerade’s part. A child on his first day at a Ninja Academy could have probably dispatched these three just as quickly and effortlessly. What a waste of time and energy for Masquerade. Now he needed another peach.

“Whoooaaa! That was awesome!” The fat boy was still here, and had apparently been watching the entire fight. Judging by his awed tone, he had been impressed by what he had seen, which had hardly been that impressive to begin with. Be that as it may, he sounded like he had just seen the coolest thing in his entire life, and though Masquerade did not turn around to look at him, he was positive that his expression was of excitement. The continuous sounds of “wow” and “ooh” implied as such, along with his following words. “Honestly, man! I’ve never seen a ninja kick ass before! That was epic.” The enthralled teenager placed a hand on Masquerade’s shoulder, beaming around at the sight of the three unconscious bodies.

A moment later, his hand was knocked off Masquerade’s shoulder, and the shinobi’s own extremity had grasped hold of the former’s thick neck. Holding the gasping and startled boy at arm’s length, a snarling Masquerade hissed at him murderously, “You infuriate me. Get lost.” With those words, the angered blonde tossed the male back into a pile of garbage. A grimace of severe intensity still etched on his face, Masquerade turned on his heels and marched away from the coughing teenager.

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Special Characteristics Used:

Age : 31 Posts : 1836

“Well! Fancy meeting you here!”

The corners of Masquerade’s mouth visibly curled downwards in an aggravated frown. He eyed the fat teenager seated at the table with noticeable dislike. The table in question was shaded by an umbrella, and was one of the many of its kind that was situated at the front of the restaurant. At the moment, the fat boy was beaming up at Masquerade, and seemed unaffected by the obvious glower with which the Nukenin was looking at him. Had any of the surrounding diners been paying attention to the two (and there were a great many diners, as lunch hour was currently underway), they might have been able to sense the tension in the air surrounding Masquerade and this unnamed fat boy. As it was, everyone else was too occupied with their own plates or discussions to pay two strangers any mind.

“You’ve been following me for the last forty minutes,” Masquerade remarked flatly. “Of course we’d meet again.”

His statement was true: despite nearly being strangled by Masquerade, this black-haired teenager had been tailing the Nukenin wherever he had gone. Even if he had kept himself at a respectable distance, and made use of the crowd to not draw too much attention to himself, Masquerade had still been able to spot his stalker’s presence soon enough - probably in the first fifteen minutes. At first, the Nukenin had merely told himself that it was a coincidence that he had run into the boy again, but after noticing that the latter kept following him (in what was clearly a failed attempt at casual manner), he began to think otherwise. Several minutes of testing was all the shinobi needed to convince himself that, yes, this fat boy was following him. The revelation had hardly been a pleasing one, for someone as suspicious (and paranoid) as Masquerade did not think that being followed could ever end well - especially when the stalker was of the same gender. However, he did not confront his stalker, as he saw him as more of a nuisance than a threat; particularly when he recalled how pathetic he had appeared against those three scarf-wearing men. The Nukenin had been content with letting the fat boy follow him, so long as they did not actually interact.

This all changed when Masquerade, heeding the call of his hungry stomach, had made his way to the nearest restaurant of his liking; and would you know it, the fat boy had been waiting for him at one of the tables, looking as if he had been expecting him. This had been the last straw for Masquerade, and more out of an inability to comprehend the sunglasses-wearing teen’s actions than rationale thought, the irked Jinchuuriki had approached the waiting stalker. Such was how Masquerade could be found in this present situation.

“Heh! Have a seat,” the fat boy offered, gesturing to the empty chair in front of Masquerade. “Lunch’s on me.”

A moment of silence passed between the two, before Masquerade “tsked” and sat down onto seat. Free food was free food, and Masquerade liked free food. That did not mean he was going to be warm up to this person, however. Even as he sat down, Masquerade folded his arms and maintained the irritated grimace on his masked visage. His dining partner appeared to ignore this, instead calling over a waiter and giving his order. When Masquerade’s turn came, the Nukenin inquired as to what the establishment’s most expensive dish was, and without waiting for the waiter to complete his answer, stated that he wanted that. As the waiter vanished into the restaurant building after confirming their orders, the fat boy turned to face Masquerade with raised eyebrows.

“Wow. You sure know how to take advantage of an act of kindness.” The boy’s tone was not accusing or angry, but more amused than anything. The male with the black hair settled back comfortably in his chair with his clasped hands resting on the tabletop, watching the Nukenin across him with a genial smile. Masquerade did not relax or drop his icy demeanor, continuing to watch with narrowed, drooping eyes that, were they visible, would indicate disinterest. No words came from the Jinchuuriki’s mouth, and neither did he perform any physical action. Needless to say, the silence between the two was awkward and tense, and the manner in which the fat boy scratched the back of his head uncomfortably showed that he was also conscious of the tension. After about a minute in silence, the boy spoke up, extending his hand across the table at Masquerade, and introducing himself as Shinnosuke Hakumei. When Masquerade did not reply or make any move to shake the hand held out to him, Hakumei blinked and retracted his limb back to his side.

“Masquerade,” the Nukenin answered calmly, without altering his posture. Hakumei blinked in confusion at the reply.

“Sorry?”

“I am Masquerade.”

Again, he blinked in confusion. “That’s your name?”

“No. It is what I go by.”

“Ah.” Once again, the two lapsed into momentary silence. This time, it was most likely due to Hakumei being slightly puzzled by Masquerade’s odd title, and perhaps also because Masquerade still gave off an air of annoyance and apathy. Fortunately, the silence did not last as long this time around, for Hakumei decided to strike up a conversation. “So, uh… I’ll bet you’re wondering why those guys back there were chasing me. I guess I should tell you why.” Despite the Nukenin not showing any interest in the boy’s words, Hakumei seemed ready to focus on this topic, since it was clear that there was really no better way to actually start a conversation between the two. As such, Masquerade said nothing to dissuade the fat boy from his explaining that occurrence; in fact, it probably would be better if Masquerade knew why he had been dragged into that mess.

“Well, you see, those guys from before? They’re from this gang called the Orange Scarves, and, weeellll…” Hakumei paused and scratched his temple uncertainly again. He continued slowly, “See, my dad’s a rich man, and those guys used to work for him. But, you know, stuff happened, and the gang’s leader screwed up big time on a mission. So my dad got angry, and he fired the Scarves’ leader, and then humiliated him, and then humiliated him again… and again… and again…” An awkward shrug was made at this point by the narrator, and it could be seen that he was not at all happy at his father’s actions - whatever they may have been. “Anyway, the Scarves have had a grudge against my dad ever since, and I think their leader will do anything to pay my dad back for embarrassing him. “

At this point, Hakumei stopped to see if Masquerade had anything to say or ask, looking expectantly at the latter as he did so. When Masquerade did not pose any questions, the narrative was resumed. “Anyway. My dad lives in another country, you see, and I’m going to go meet him there. Dad’s sent a bunch of his men to escort me to his mansion, so I’ll be out of the country before tomorrow.” A beefy hand was raised to stroke a cleft chin thoughtfully at this point. “I’m guessing that when the Orange Scarves learned about my departure, they sent a few of their goons to come and kidnap me. They probably planned on using me as leverage against Dad for something.” Arms spread apart, Hakumei shrugged his shoulders. “And that’s why those guys were chasing me when I ran into you.”

If Hakumei had been expecting Masquerade to say something at the obvious conclusion of his tale, he was sadly disappointed, for the masked ninja did not give any response even now. Indeed, one might be assume that he had zoned out during the entire narrative, as he appeared to have not moved a single muscle the whole time. Of course, while he may have been giving the impression of inattentiveness outwardly, Masquerade had actually been paying attention to what the boy was saying, and pondering over it simultaneously. At the moment, there was only one thought that was occupying Masquerade’s mind. Who in their right mind would tell a complete stranger that he or she was being targeted, as the topic of a casual conversation? Either this Shinnosuke Hakumei was a bigger fool than Masquerade had initially assumed, or he had an ulterior motive for striking up this conversation. And Masquerade had a very good inkling of which was the case here.

“So anyway,” Hakumei continued, leaning forward in his seat, hands splayed apart on the wooden surface of the white-painted table. “The way you kicked those guys’ asses back there was awesome! I’d be in big trouble if you hadn’t taken them out. So I came up with this great idea: how about you actually be my bodyguard until my dad’s men arrive tonight?”

If Hakumei had not been beaming before, then he certainly was now. He looked almost like a child right now, with his wide, toothy grin, and his metaphorically twinkling eyes. Clearly, this was the reason he had been following Masquerade all this time: to have him agree to be his bodyguard for the remainder of his stay. Looking at the almost childish anticipation with which Hakumei awaited Masquerade’s answer, the Nukenin felt that there was, really, only one thing he could say.

“How about “no”?” the blonde responded curtly, and the effect was instantaneous. Hakumei’s glowing expression was replaced by a perplexed one, before he puffed his cheeks and crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat just like Masquerade, except that the shinobi was not pouting.

“Aw, c’mon, man! You’ve gotta do this! You owe me, you know!”

The claim was so surprising and outrageous, that Masquerade’s eyebrows skyrocketed upwards behind his mask. “Oh? And how is that?”

“Well, I’m offering to pay for your lunch! You owe me for that, so I’m asking you to be my bodyguard.”

Masquerade actually felt like laughing at this declaration, but he settled with donning a stoic expression and speaking in a deadpan voice. “No. You owe me for dragging me into your mess back in that alley. I’ll be magnanimous enough to consider this free lunch as payment for saving you earlier.”Hakumei did not have a reply to Masquerade’s words, so he merely slumped in his char in defeat, looking crestfallen. Masquerade was not moved by the display of dejection, finding the whole proposition to be a preposterous. There was no reason why he should help a complete stranger like this boy, especially when it was not his problem to begin with. He would not help the boy. That was his decision, and he was going to stick with it.

“You should help him, you know. You can’t just leave him alone, not when there are people after him. If something happened to him, you know that you would feel guilty about it. Besides, it’s the right thing to do.” Masquerade ignored the echoing, feminine voice of the Shichibi in his mind. Despite acknowledging her presence within him, Masquerade did not have any obligation to actually listen to or talk to the Shichibi when she attempted to communicate with him; and she was not going to change his mind now. Like he had decided, he was not going to help the boy. Realizing that he would not budge, the Shichibi gave a heavy sigh of exasperation, the sound reverberating in the Jinchuuriki’s mind. “Fine, if you won’t do it for moral reasons… He said his father is wealthy, right? I’m sure he’ll be happy to pay you for the trouble of protecting his son, especially when you weren’t hired to do so in the first place. Don’t you think?”

Masquerade’s eyes narrowed behind his opaque visors.

Shut up, Shichibi.

“Very well. I’ll protect you until your father’s men arrive.”

In the blink of an eye, the joyful energy returned to the black-haired boy’s body. He sat up straight in his chair, pumping his fist victoriously and looking at Masquerade with a glowing expression. “Sweet! And maybe you could teach some of those moves you did earlier, huh?”

Ugh. It’s going to be a long day…

In his mind, the Shichibi was chuckling whole-heartedly.

Age : 31 Posts : 1836

Despite not being the most ambitious or motivated person in the world, the teenage Nukenin could confidently say that whenever he set his mind to performing a certain task, he made sure to do everything he was capable of doing (or willing to do) to finish it. One could say that he had an almost one-track mind when it came to his objectives. He often sought to see any task assigned to him to the very end; after all, if someone had asked him to do something, and he had accepted, then it was the Nukenin’s duty, as well as the requester’s right, that he should perform the task to the best of his abilities. Success was not always a guarantee, but if Masquerade did his utmost best, then the failure could be bearable - satisfying, even. However, this did not mean that Masquerade would enjoy performing everything that he agreed to do; and his present “mission” (or favor) was certainly not one that he was enjoying.

Masquerade had surmised that Hakumei was not exactly the most sensible of people in the world. In the short time that the Nukenin had been in his company, he had formed the impression that the boy was rather eccentric and unpredictable, leaving no shortage of surprise and irritation sources for the Nukenin. One would think that, with the knowledge that a vengeful gang was hunting him, Hakumei would perhaps exercise a bit of caution. If Masquerade had been in the boy’s situation (and admittedly, there had been times when Masquerade was being pursued by undesirable folk), then he would have done his best to stay out of sight, or remain in the safest possible location. He would not attempt to draw attention to himself, or hang around in places that would be ideal for an ambush or kidnapping. That was what Masquerade would do. Hakumei, on the other hand, seemed to be treating the whole situation with an ill-advised amount of casualness; he was acting far too relaxed for someone with potential kidnappers after him. From the time that Hakumei had left the restaurant with his new bodyguard, the fat boy had barely done anything that Masquerade had suggested, and all of those suggestions had been to ensure the boy’s safety. Instead of heeding Masquerade’s advice, Hakumei had gone about enjoying himself for the rest of the day.

This town that they were in did not prosper with just its successful market place, but also because of other establishments. One of these sources of success was the first stop that the Nukenin and his charge visited after their meal: a casino. Much to Masquerade’s annoyance, Hakumei had insisted on “hitting the slot machines” after lunch, and in spite of Masquerade curtly shooting down the prospect, the black-haired male had headed for the nearest casino. Realizing that Hakumei would not listen to his reasoning, Masquerade had resolved himself to following the fat boy to the casino; at the same time, he kept wondering if agreeing to the help Hakumei had actually been a good idea. Any exasperation that the Nukenin may have been feeling only intensified slowly the longer they stayed at the casino. Masquerade had enough experience to know that gamblers could get a little too upset when they lost their money. Fortunately, he did not have to worry about Hakumei losing his temper or doing something reckless due to losing, simply because the boy appeared to have extraordinary luck. Either that, or he was very good at cheating and not getting caught.

Whichever was the case, the four hours they spent in that casino were highly beneficial to Hakumei on a monetary basis, as he had gotten himself a sizeable amount of winnings. His subsequent boasting and delight did nothing but get on Masquerade’s nerves; the Nukenin had spent the entirety of their time in the casino doing nothing but sulking at Hakumei’s shoulder. The Nukenin did not gamble, and he did not like places where such activities took place - which was why he was in such a sour mood when Hakumei dragged Masquerade over to yet another casino. At that point, the Nukenin had felt like stuffing a fistful of gambling chips down Hakumei’s throat. Needless to say, he refrained from satisfying his frustrated desires. Fortunately, they did not stay in this establishment for long, only ~~wasting~~ spending two hours there. If there was one trait that Masquerade could praise Hakumei for, it was that he had the sense to realize when to quit before his luck turned back. That still did not mean that Masquerade was going to forgive him for wasting the ninja’s time.

After winning all that money, Hakumei had decided that he was in the mood to spend it right away. Thus, the shopping spree had commenced. While Masquerade was still frustrated by the long gambling run, and the fact that Hakumei seemed to have little care about his safety, the Nukenin was not annoyed by Hakumei’s shopping run. Granted, it was boring having to follow the boy around as he went from one vendor, shop, cart, etc. to another, but at least the boredom was not coupled with anger. In fact, Masquerade was able to find a small bit of respect for the boy during this time: Hakumei did seem to be good at bargaining with the merchants, managing to get admirable discounts on his purchases. For a moment, Masquerade wondered if it had been Hakumei’s swindling skills that had made the Nukenin accept this sentry job. If so, then Masquerade might be willing to respect the boy a little more.

Forty-some minutes of shopping would pass before, with nightfall approaching, Hakumei would proclaim that he felt like celebrating his successful day of gambling and shopping. He would then direct Masquerade’s attention to what he claimed was “the best place to do so”. Following his charge’s point, the Jinchuuriki had felt a sudden urge to punch Hakumei in the face, and continue to repeatedly do so for an uncertain amount of time. However, he once again quelled his violent impulses, and after failing to change his associate’s mind, a disgruntled Masquerade had then reluctantly followed Hakumei into the building.

It was a hostess club, and thus one of the last places on Earth that Masquerade would ever want to visit.

He was going to make this idiot pay for this one day.

While the womanizing idiot went about flirting, drinking, and entertaining himself with the club’s staff, Masquerade hovered by the entrance, back turned to everyone, busy glaring at the potted plants by the entrance. Arriving and departing customers would stare in confusion at the blonde, who was standing with his arms crossed, teeth bared and clenched tightly, and hidden eyes wide in fury. The sounds of laughter and enjoyment did nothing to soothe his anger, only fueling it. He did not want to be here, and it showed in the fact that he was not staying at Hakumei’s side right now; he had done so in the casinos despite having a clear dislike for the idiot’s interests. But right now, he did not care. The only reason he was still here was because he had agreed to Hakumei’s request. He was going to protect him to the best of his ability, but only from the Orange Scarves. He was not going to protect him from throwing away his money like this.

Time passed by much more slowly than Masquerade could have wished. With nightfall approaching, business was increasing, but it seemed that Hakumei was in no hurry to leave. There was still plenty of time left until his escorts were due to arrive, so Masquerade would not be surprised if he planned on staying here until that time. He would not be surprised, but he would not be thrilled about it. He had no idea how much longer he could keep calm before he went over to Hakumei and started punching him. At the moment, he was trying to keep himself occupied by imagining how he could torture the fat idiot for doing this to Masquerade, even if he knew he would never do any of those things. Luckily, these thoughts kept him occupied, although they predictably did not lighten his sour mood.

Still, the situation could have been worse. For instance, if he had not found a way to entertain his idle and bored mind for so long, then he might have done something a bit more drastic during that one incident that occurred about an hour after their arrival. Said incident was a hostess attempting to “offer her services to Masquerade for a fee”, so as to (as she put it) “help him relax”. The Nukenin’s response had been to silently look at the slightly-older woman for a second as she had watched him flirtatiously. His next step had been to calmly pull off his mask and treat her to the sight of his bug-like eyes. Needless to say, the hostess was overcome with a sudden urge to run to the restroom and throw up. For all intents and purposes, her reaction had cheered up Masquerade a little. What was more, no one else decided to approach Masquerade after that. How odd.

Ninety grueling minutes later, and Hakumei appeared to have finished inflating his ego, as well as intoxicating himself. The sight of a drunk Hakumei did little to ease Masquerade’s rage, and it did not help that the drunkard could barely walk or talk properly now. It pretty much fell to the Nukenin to support the rambling and weaving idiot as they left the hostess club. As they “walked” through the bustling town, Masquerade wondered how long it might take for someone to find the body.

He had had an infuriating day, and he was not in a happy mood.

But the most maddening thing so far? The whole time, the Shichibi would not stop laughing.

Age : 31 Posts : 1836

“Um… Masquerade?” The black-haired male glanced at the blonde out of the corner of his eye. When no reply came from the Nukenin, Hakumei spoke once again. “Uh… You’re mad, aren’t you?” Once again, no reply came his way, and the speaker appeared to have gotten the message. With that, both lapsed into silence as they walked through the night. Well, to be more specific, Masquerade was doing most of the walking, while Hakumei was limping along beside the shinobi; the shorter boy’s arm was wrapped around the taller one’s neck as the latter supported the former’s weight. The two’s pace was slow and careful, but there seemed to be an urgency in their steps at the same time. Though, neither of the male’s faces implied that they seemed in a hurry. Hakumei expression was glum and downcast, whereas the Nukenin’s face was set in an impassive expression, but the tightness of his lips hinted at solemnity. Neither Masquerade nor Hakumei spoke as they trudged over the dirt path that had taken them out of the town and to its outskirts. The night sky was clear and the moonlight was bright enough to illuminate their path, which was fortunate since they had no source of artificial light to make use of. There was, however, a spot of orange light in the distance, and it was towards this light source that the two boys were currently making their way to.

Soon enough, the duo arrived at the ridge on which the light source originated from. Waiting patiently just a few feet ahead was a group of five elegantly-dressed men, accompanied by a horse-drawn carriage. As Masquerade and Hakumei emerged over the curvature of the ridge and into view of the party, one of the men broke off from the group and strode over to them. He was a tall, thin, and lanky individual, with a head of neatly-combed chestnut hair and a bored-looking expression; a pair of rectangular glasses rested on his nose. His seemingly-uncaring eyes swept over the two males once, before coming to a stop on the shorter of the two. As this man took note of Hakumei’s appearance, his lackluster expression was rapidly replaced by one of surprise. Taking a step forward, he addressed Hakumei in a respectful and worried tone.

“Hakumei-sama, what happened to you? And… who is he?”

The “he” to which the man gestured was Masquerade, and the tenor of his voice indicated that he had doubts concerning Masquerade’s presence. Masquerade did not respond to the query, knowing that Hakumei would answer both questions, seeing as they were directed to him, after all. The first question was the more important and pressing one to reply to at the moment, in Masquerade’s opinion, since Hakumei’s current state was a more significant cause of concern than the shinobi’s identity. Out of the corner of his eye, Masquerade took another look at the boy he was supporting.

With the glow from the lantern hanging on the carriage, everyone present could get a good look at the multitude of cuts and bruises on Hakumei’s face. His left eyelid was swollen and a black-purple color; dried blood stains trailed out of his nose and the corners of his mouth; a nasty horizontal scar could be seen on his forehead, and fainter ones littered various portions of the boy’s face. Hakumei’s sunglasses were broken and twisted, as if they had been stepped on; his fine clothes were covered in dirt and dried blood; his previously-slick black hair was matted in dirt and ruffled out of its styling; and finally, the make-shift splint on his leg signified at a twisted ankle.

All in all, the boy looked worse for wear, and his partner was not exactly at his prime either. Masquerade’s white coat was also coated in patches of dirt and filth, and also sported several cuts and tears all over its surface. Similar cuts could be seen on the rest of his clothes, as well on the exposed parts of his skin. Fortunately, the Nukenin’s unkempt appearance was limited only to this, meaning he did not look as beaten as the boy he was supporting. That being said, they both looked like they had been in a fight or something, and that was precisely what happened.

It had been about an hour ago. After leaving the hostess club, Masquerade had left an intoxicated and drowsy Hakumei on a bench while he had gone to a nearby vendor to fetch some water to pour onto the drunkard. He had only been gone for thirty seconds. For only thirty seconds, Hakumei had not been under Masquerade’s watch. In those thirty minutes, a band of men, all wearing orange scarves, had snuck up to the sleeping Hakumei, and carried him away. By the time Masquerade would return, they would have meshed into the thick crowd of people; and by the time the startled ninja would spot them amongst the masses, they would be too far ahead for him to approach them without starting a ruckus. Cleverly, the Orange Scarves had made use of the seething mass of people to their advantage; no matter how quickly he moved, Masquerade could not get close enough to them to retrieve Hakumei. Misfortune befell him when, momentarily being pushed off-course by the horde of townsfolk, he ended up losing sight of his quarry. Even after moving to a higher vantage point, he had been unable to locate the Scarves members. Needless to say, the Nukenin had been feeling quite angry at himself for losing his charge like that. He did not blame Hakumei for this at all; only himself.

At this point, Masquerade had been left with two options. Either he could continue searching for the boy and rescue him, or he could leave him to whatever fate the Orange Scarves had planned for him. For once, the Nukenin did not pause to weigh the pros and cons of each option. Without wasting time, he began his search for the kidnapped Hakumei. With the assistance of one of his jutsu, the shinobi had been able to quickly pick up the trail again - or rather, “pick up the scent”. His chakra-enhanced sense of smell, making use of Hakumei’s alcohol-enhanced odor that still lingered on Masquerade’s clothes, allowed the Nukenin to eventually make his way to a small building in a deserted alley, far from the hustle and bustle of the main town area. Judging by the secluded nature of the location, Masquerade had been certain that this was where the Orange Scarves were holed up currently, and thus were they had taken Hakumei. Without procrastinating, Masquerade had entered the building to rescue the abducted boy.

Still following the kidnap victim’s scent and sneaking past the various sentries patrolling most of the rooms in the building, the Nukenin had eventually made his way to the basement. Here, he had been treated to the sight of a heavily beaten and bruised Hakumei lying on the floor, his limbs bounded as an orange-haired man kicked and stomped on him while laughing unpleasantly. Upon noticing Masquerade’s presence, the man and his compatriots would turn their attention from the wounded boy to the masked one. The orange-haired man had introduced himself as Kaname Daiki, the leader of the Orange Scarves. Notable physical features included the aforementioned spiky orange hair, a sheathed nodachi, and a bright orange kimono that clashed atrociously with his hair. With the knowledge that this was the man who had no doubt ordered Hakumei’s abduction, it made sense to Masquerade why Hakumei was being beaten by him. Kaname Daiki was venting the frustrations borne out of his humiliation towards the son of his ex-employer. Apparently, the grudge was a severe one.

Cutting straight to the chase, Masquerade had demanded that Hakumei be released and handed back to him. The man named Daiki had laughed at this, saying that if Masquerade wanted Hakumei, then he should “come and get’em”. Having expected a fight, Masquerade had prepared himself for battle, not just against Daiki, but all the Scarves in this room and the ones above. However, to the shinobi’s surprise, Daiki offered to give Masquerade a fair chance. In Daiki’s words, he and the Nukenin would fight one-on-one for Hakumei. If Masquerade won, then he would be able to leave with Hakumei, and the Orange Scarves would not interfere in their escape. If Daiki won, then not only would Hakumei remain in the gang’s possession, but Masquerade would have to pledge his allegiance to them, thereby joining their ranks.

The Nukenin had given no response, other than to commence the battle. To say that any one of the combatants had an advantage over the other was debatable. While Masquerade was a shinobi and had a more deadly arsenal of attacks at his disposal, Daiki was older and had more experience in fighting. Whereas Masquerade’s ninja training made him quick on his feet, Daiki had the advantage of being more skilled in close-range combat. Add to all this the fact that Masquerade had to be careful not to accidently hit Hakumei with a misfired jutsu, and it was no surprise that the Nukenin was facing more trouble than he ought to in defeating his adversary. Limited room also made it difficult to do anything but dodge mostly, as his opponent was more or less always on top of him. That being said, both battlers managed to get a few hits on each other, but none of them being decisive enough to ensure victory. Regardless, they were successful hits.

The battle came to an abrupt end when Daiki planted a sandal-covered foot into Masquerade’s face, effectively knocking him into a wall and knocking his mask off. The swordsman had then pinned the youth against the wall by piercing his left shoulder through with the nodachi. As Daiki had then leaned in to taunt his opponent, Masquerade had glared up at him with his insectile eyes. The momentary surprise that overcame Daiki upon seeing the inhuman eyes was all that Masquerade had needed: with one swift motion, the Nukenin's right arm shot forward and wrapped a chakra-coated hand around the surprised man’s neck. The chakra from Chakra Scalpels was pumped into Daiki's neck, and sliced his spinal cord in half from the inside. That had been the end for the leader of the Orange Scarves.

Having defeated his opponent, a fatigued and near-fainting Masquerade had been expecting to feel the wrath of the rest of the gang. However, none of them assaulted the Nukenin, instead begrudgingly letting him leave with the bruised Hakumei. Grateful that these gang members had some kind of code of honor to follow, the injured Nukenin and his charge had hurriedly left the base and made their way to a more secure location. After tending to the most severe of their injuries, Masquerade had then supported Hakumei as the two made their way to the meeting point, where the black-haired boy’s escorts would already be waiting.

After Hakumei more or less gave a summarized narration of the above events, the bespectacled escort ordered his associates to help Hakumei into the carriage. As Masquerade was relieved of the burden of supporting Hakumei, he was then addressed by the bespectacled escort, who seemed to be the one in charge here. “Thank you for assistance in this matter, Masquerade.” He gave a slight nod of respect at the blonde. “I’ll be sure to inform my Master of your work, and see to it that you are sent compensation for your troubles. I am certain he will be grateful to hear that you not only protected his son, but also eliminated the nuisance that was Kaname Daiki.”

The man with the chestnut hair had made to head for the carriage, but was halted by Masquerade’s words. The masked male had raised a gloved hand to stall the escort, and had announced in a tranquil voice that he did not need any compensation or reward for his efforts. Suffice it to say, everyone present was surprised by Masquerade’s remark. Confusion also followed as Masquerade looked towards Hakumei and added, “I merely paid back a debt I owed.”

The head escort did not question Masquerade on his decision, instead nodding in acceptance and thanking him once more for his help. As the escort got into their seats, Hakumei looked over at Masquerade from the window of his carriage, and flashed him a grateful grin and a thumbs-up. The blonde did not smile back, instead waving his hand uncaringly at the carriage while turning around and walking away. He heard the carriage begin to move as he descended the ridge, thinking.

He had not refused payment because he felt he did not deserve it, or because he had decided that the thought of helping someone was reward enough. No, it had not been anything as guilty or noble as that. Simply put, this entire incident with Hakumei had reminded Masquerade of another similar occurrence. He recalled how there had once been a young boy that was being pummeled in the streets by a group of rowdy teens, and how a random old man had then saved the boy from those teens; afterwards, the man had taught the boy how to defend and protect himself, and for nothing in return. The old man had helped a stranger in danger, simply out of the goodness of his heart. He had taught the boy how to fight, how to survive, and how to be a good person. He had mentored the youth, protected him, and made him feel happy and grateful. The boy would go on to admire the elder for these actions from then on, even after the man would pass away due to old age. He would go on hoping for a way to pay back the man for all he had done for him, even if he was no longer alive.

This was the sole reason why Masquerade had declined a reward; it was the sole reason why Masquerade had attempted to save Hakumei without any second thoughts. If Masquerade could do the same for another as that old man had - if Masquerade could make someone else feel the same way that boy had felt - then he did not need any other reward. Even if that someone was a greedy, foolish, lecherous idiot…

“Awww. Looks like someone’s made a friend.”

Shut up, Shichibi.

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~ Topic Concluded ~