---Tanzaku Gai---
Tanzaku Gai was a lively and unapologetically decadent town located along a winding trade road. It was a place that never truly slept, only dozed fitfully between bouts of excess. The town was built for travelers, gamblers, and those looking to disappear for the night... or a lifetime.
Lanterns of every color strung across the streets, casting a warm, inviting glow that hid the grime in the gutters. Music drifted from every open window... shamisen, drums, and the raucous laughter of drunks. The air smelled of cheap perfume, expensive sake, and desperation.
It was a contrast to the disciplined silence of the forest or the structured order of Konoha. Here, chaos was the currency.
'Hmm...'
Haku stood on a rooftop overlooking the main drag. He had arrived just as the sun began to dip, painting the town in hues of gold and violet.
Since this town didn't really have any shinobi system that protected it… only hired muscle and mercenaries… Haku didn't mind jumping from roof to roof. He moved with the confidence of a predator who knew he was the apex. He was certain he wouldn't be sensed; even the legendary Jiraiya had failed to track him until he spoke.
'Bakuhyō Ganri is a tracker,' Haku reminded himself. 'He will be cautious. But he will also be indulgent. Missing-nin who flee usually crave the comforts they were denied.'
Haku scanned the street below. He saw a modest inn near the edge of the entertainment district. It was busy, but not rowdy. A place where people went to eat and sleep, not just to pass out.
'Perfect.'
Haku formed a single hand seal.
Transformation Jutsu.
Smoke puffed and cleared.
Gone was the beautiful, teal-clad boy with the sword. Standing in his place was a plain-looking young man with brown hair and travel-worn clothes. He looked like a merchant's apprentice or a courier… utterly forgettable.
Haku dropped down into an alley and walked out onto the street, blending seamlessly into the flow of people.
---The Drunken Flame Inn---
He pushed through the noren curtains of the inn. The interior was warm and smelled of miso and grilled fish.
"Hey keeper!" Haku called out, his voice slightly deeper, rougher than his natural tone. He walked toward the bar stool, acting tired.
The innkeeper, a balding man with a towel around his neck, looked up from cleaning a sake bottle. He eyed Haku up and down.
Haku sat down, slapping a few bills onto the counter. It was slightly more than the average meal cost, but not enough to look suspicious. Just enough to buy good service.
"Gimme some Rice and Miso soup set," Haku ordered, leaning on his elbows.
The keeper looked at the Ryo, then at Haku. He nodded, sweeping the money into his apron. "One Rice and Miso soup set, coming right up!"
Haku sighed, letting his shoulders slump. He looked around the room casually.
To his left, a group of ronin were laughing loudly, pouring sake for two geisha who looked bored out of their minds. To his right, some local merchants were playing a card game, their faces flushed with alcohol.
'Such a waste of time,' Haku thought, though his face remained neutral. 'They seek fleeting pleasure to numb their reality. A shinobi lives in reality constantly.'
He didn't judge them… not really. He just didn't understand them. His life had been defined by purpose: protect Zabuza, train under Alaric, become strong. Aimless hedonism felt alien.
"One Rice and Miso soup set."
The keeper returned, placing a tray on the counter. The steam from the soup curled up, smelling savory.
Before the keeper pulled away, he leaned forward slightly. He picked up a rag and started wiping the counter near Haku's elbow.
"You look like a traveler," the keeper muttered, his eyes scanning the room to ensure the ronin weren't listening. "Be careful around the West District tonight."
Haku raised a brow, slurping a spoonful of soup. "Oh? Why's that?"
"There's been a rumor going around since yesterday," the keeper whispered. "I heard that the man who owns the Golden Pavilion Casino hired a new personal guard. A rogue shinobi."
Haku stopped eating. His heart rate didn't change, but his focus sharpened to a razor's edge.
'Rogue shinobi. New hire. Yesterday.'
It fit the timeline. Ganri had fought in Tanigakure three days ago. He would have needed money and shelter immediately.
"A guard?" Haku asked, feigning mild interest. "Must be tough if people are talking about him."
The keeper nodded gravely. "Tough isn't the word. They say he blew up a debtor's shop yesterday just for looking at him wrong. No fire, no powder. The wall just... popped."
'Explosion Release,' Haku confirmed internally. 'Got him.'
Haku took another sip of soup. "Sounds dangerous. I'll steer clear."
"Good idea," the keeper nodded, moving away to serve another customer.
Haku stared at his bowl. The soup was... adequate. It was warm, salty, and edible.
But then he remembered the A5 Wagyu steak Alaric had made. He remembered the rich, complex broth Zabuza sometimes managed to buy.
He took another sip.
'Ah... forget it,' Haku thought, suppressing a grimace. 'Yuck. My standards have been ruined.'
He forced himself to finish the meal… calories were calories… but the joy of eating was gone.
---The Golden Pavilion---
Twenty minutes later, Haku was back on the rooftops. He had shed his disguise, returning to his true form. His teal combat gear blended with the night sky.
He located the Golden Pavilion easily. It was the gaudiest building in town… a massive, multi-tiered pagoda painted in gold leaf and red lacquer. Two massive stone lions guarded the entrance, and bouncers checked patrons for weapons.
Haku perched on a nearby clock tower, looking down.
'The target is likely inside, guarding the owner or the vault,' Haku assessed. 'Engaging inside is risky. Civilians everywhere. Collateral damage would be high.'
He needed to draw him out.
Haku reached into his pouch. He didn't pull out a kunai. He pulled out a small, sealed scroll Alaric had given him.
Flash Bang - Type B.
It wasn't a standard blinding tool. It was infused with a specific frequency of chakra that mimicked a distress signal used by Iwagakure ANBU. Alaric had looted it from a bandit leader who used to be an Iwa-nin.
'If he's paranoid, a signal from his old village will either scare him or lure him,' Haku reasoned. 'Either way, he comes out.'
Haku threw the scroll. It landed in the alley behind the casino.
POP.
A low, throbbing hum emitted from the scroll, barely audible to normal ears but screaming to a sensory ninja trained in Iwa frequencies.
Haku waited.
One minute. Two minutes.
The back door of the casino slammed open.
A man stepped out. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a sturdy build and a relaxed but alert posture. His hair was spiky and blond, styled upward and slightly back from his forehead.
On the inside, he wore the standard Iwagakure shinobi uniform common to most Chunin and Jonin. Over it, he wore a large, dark hooded coat that hanged open at the front. Around his forehead, he wore a metal forehead protector with the Iwagakure symbol that was slit horizontally by what it looked to be a kunai, identifying himself as a missing-nin from Iwagakure no Sato.
Bakuhyō Ganri.
He looked around, his eyes darting nervously. "Hunter-nin? Here?"
He sniffed the air.
Haku didn't give him time to think. 'Zero Friction...'
Haku dropped from the tower. He didn't fall; he accelerated. He became a streak of teal light, his sword drawn in a reverse grip.
"Let's see the level of an A-Rank shinobi."
.
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