The rising sun bathed the valley in a gentle golden glow. The soft chirping of birds heralded the dawn and joined the chorus of the nearby babbling brook to create wonderful music as the nearby town - Yoshitsune couldn't be bothered to remember its name - was only just beginning to wake. Soon wafts of smoke would drift from the rooftops as the villagers stoked their hearths and made ready for the day's work. By contrast, Yoshitsune's work was coming to an end. He had been awake for two straight days as part of this mission. The higher-ups had told him to take it seriously, as it was his first mission as a newly-minted jōnin. To that end he had been assigned to a four-man mission cell being led by highly regarded Inoue Katsumi, certainly specifically designed to keep an eye on him. She had a perfect mission record, after all.
And, to her credit, the entirety of the mission went according to plan - until the end. A merchant in the Land of Tea had been making in-roads on new trade deals with the Land of Waves, which Kirigakure considered a part of its valuable monopoly. Supposedly, the merchant was backed by Konoha, and was moving merchandise from the Land of Fire into the Land of Waves at a discounted rate, undercutting sellers from the Land of Water. The higher-ups had determined that this could not stand. The mission itself was simple; assassinate the merchant and seize his goods. The only complication is that the merchant would likely be protected by shinobi dispatched from Konoha to prevent this very sort of counter-espionage. The two groups of shinobi had skirmished with each other several times over the last forty-eight hours with only light rest possible in-between, breaking into smaller fights and individual battles spread out across the countryside. Cycles of tracking, hunting, ambushing, and fleeing. An animal both on the hunt and being hunted.
Konoha's squad was a three-man cell, and when all was said and done Yoshitsune seemed to be the odd-man out. Violence was a necessity in the Bloody Mist, but that didn't mean he relished it. Had he the choice, he would have chosen to guard the northern road anyway. It was to his good fortune that the merchant came across his path, rather than stumbling across Katsumi or one of the others. He wouldn't have been so fortunate. In the end, Yoshitsune simply let the man pass and exit the valley. If he was running for his life it meant that the rest of the battle had probably turned sour, and that meant that the Kiri cell would be able to seize the warehouse in town without much of a fuss. Once they had the goods, how much of a threat would the merchant really be?
Returning to the designated staging area - a secluded hilltop clearing surrounded by a copse of trees just outside of town - Yoshitsune arrived just as dawn was breaking. His long green hair trailed behind him, a little disheveled though likely in much better shape than anyone who had seen intense combat. He was nineteen years old, dressed in plain, light-colored clothing that was at best unassuming and at worst a little raggedy. He assumed a respectful position on his left knee, head bowed, left hand curled to a fist and knuckles similarly pressed on the ground.
"Sudachi Yoshitsune reporting. The target escaped. My apologies, but it seems I fell asleep on watch duty."
A bold faced lie. No one who had successfully managed to make it to the rank of jōnin would make such a simple mistake. The tone of his voice, passive, disinterested, a little tired, didn't seem to indicate much by way of shame or regret, either, even as he bowed his head and phoned-in the motions.
And, to her credit, the entirety of the mission went according to plan - until the end. A merchant in the Land of Tea had been making in-roads on new trade deals with the Land of Waves, which Kirigakure considered a part of its valuable monopoly. Supposedly, the merchant was backed by Konoha, and was moving merchandise from the Land of Fire into the Land of Waves at a discounted rate, undercutting sellers from the Land of Water. The higher-ups had determined that this could not stand. The mission itself was simple; assassinate the merchant and seize his goods. The only complication is that the merchant would likely be protected by shinobi dispatched from Konoha to prevent this very sort of counter-espionage. The two groups of shinobi had skirmished with each other several times over the last forty-eight hours with only light rest possible in-between, breaking into smaller fights and individual battles spread out across the countryside. Cycles of tracking, hunting, ambushing, and fleeing. An animal both on the hunt and being hunted.
Konoha's squad was a three-man cell, and when all was said and done Yoshitsune seemed to be the odd-man out. Violence was a necessity in the Bloody Mist, but that didn't mean he relished it. Had he the choice, he would have chosen to guard the northern road anyway. It was to his good fortune that the merchant came across his path, rather than stumbling across Katsumi or one of the others. He wouldn't have been so fortunate. In the end, Yoshitsune simply let the man pass and exit the valley. If he was running for his life it meant that the rest of the battle had probably turned sour, and that meant that the Kiri cell would be able to seize the warehouse in town without much of a fuss. Once they had the goods, how much of a threat would the merchant really be?
Returning to the designated staging area - a secluded hilltop clearing surrounded by a copse of trees just outside of town - Yoshitsune arrived just as dawn was breaking. His long green hair trailed behind him, a little disheveled though likely in much better shape than anyone who had seen intense combat. He was nineteen years old, dressed in plain, light-colored clothing that was at best unassuming and at worst a little raggedy. He assumed a respectful position on his left knee, head bowed, left hand curled to a fist and knuckles similarly pressed on the ground.
"Sudachi Yoshitsune reporting. The target escaped. My apologies, but it seems I fell asleep on watch duty."
A bold faced lie. No one who had successfully managed to make it to the rank of jōnin would make such a simple mistake. The tone of his voice, passive, disinterested, a little tired, didn't seem to indicate much by way of shame or regret, either, even as he bowed his head and phoned-in the motions.
