A strong, chilling to the bone evening wind blew past all of Kouta's defenses that his clothing offered meant to repel the cold. His ninja physiology allowed him great endurance of unfavorable conditions, one many times beyond what a human would survive. His entire body could've been frozen, every single particle of it turned into a frigid icicle and if unfrozen the boy would survive. Same went with the opposite spectrum – impossible heats were painful yet non-lethal to someone with good chakra control and ability to augment their bodies using it. None of those things meant that chilling cold or searing heat didn't feel absolutely horrible.
There were people that despised ninja, common villagers sometimes bantered among each other how they are oppressed by the ninja or samurai or the pirates or whatever the bane of society was that time, how their neighbor could hire one to kill their entire neighborhood if they had enough money and similar nonsense. It sort of made sense before one delved deeper into it – villagers were weak and afraid and weak and afraid people were the worst kind. They didn't care that ninja suffered burns and that they felt pain just like the villagers did – all they cared was that they weren't human, almost demonic people because being submerged into magma only singed their clothes off and left some small burns and marks where their chakra control was not at its best. Inner world, pain, and feelings mattered little to those who were afraid and weak.
Kouta gripped his sides harder, rubbing his elbows to fend off the cold at least a little. He had some backup rags remaining so losing the majority of his ninja tools and his clothes meant slightly less than it potentially could've, still, it was an event worth some regretting at the very least. He felt a little proud of himself, proud of his own abilities. He knew that father would've been proud of him as well – five thousand or so degrees of superheated primal sludge bursting from the ground was a feat to withstand for a ninja his age. It must've been the sleeping Juugo clansman in Kouta that took pride in these meaningless achievements. Even with all of his might, with all the Justicar he took on or out, with all of their attacks he withstood he couldn't help Mana, and that was what counted.
Kouta took a short while surveying the industrial districts. He took hours upon hours of bartering to buy as much as a kunai blade, desperate monetary situations called for very convincing and lengthy negotiations... Still, he had to possess some intimidation inside of him, he managed to buy an entire handful of used blades for the price it'd have taken him to pay for one. A couple of successful hourly barters like that would've refilled his ninja kit, even if it was of secondary importance to the boy, having his fighting style in mind.
It used to mean a lot to Kouta – he used to be a lot shyer on the battlefield, he used to fear his own inheritance from his father's clan, he disliked his own power because the people who used it historically were mad and brutish. He couldn't wrap his head around it that it was the person using the power and not the power itself that could've been evil and distasteful. In a way, he was not unlike those weak and terrified villagers afraid of ninja and samurai or pirates and their godly battles, namely being caught in their crossfire...
A young woman writhed on the paved floor, in the industrial districts the floor was less stone and more tin and metal. It clanged as the boy walked towards her over the old and rusted metal plates. Despite the noise he had made, the woman did not react. She remained conscious as she was moving, or so her movements could've been described as even the most pathetic writhing of a caterpillar was, in a manner of speech, movement. There was some icky light brownish sludge laying beside the woman, it had traces of blood in it, quite large ones, in fact, which troubled the medical ninja part of the boy. The sight of blood in any bodily fluid was something to be troubled about...
Kouta stood in front of the downed and incapacitated, possibly even drunk or drugged, female. She could've easily been a trap set by the Syndicate, trying to exploit his heroic side, trying to force him to lower his guard so that these fools could think they've found an opening in Kouta's defenses. It would've taken a moderate amount of chakra to maintain his defenses at their strongest throughout the entire procedure of checking this woman... He could always rely on his bodily reflexes to enhance his body if need be but Kouta didn't want to, the enhancements could've been smaller than his intended or needed ones, they could've also been lazy and quickly slapped together and costing him much more chakra in the process...
Kouta sighed and kneeled by the woman placing his hands above her wet blue dress. She looked like she may have been in her nightgown preparing to sleep but somehow ended up in a faraway and desolate industrial district of the village. Even so, her appearance was odd – it was clear that the woman was in her mid-thirties, the early forties perhaps. Her bodily condition and her appearance alone would've suggested her being in her late sixties, however – her skin was wrinkled and yellow in its shade. Even through the messed up and washed off make-up of hers it was seen that something was incredibly wrong with this woman. Her heels may have looked impressive ten or so years ago, or a certain amount of nights of rubbing them into the pavement but now they looked pathetic at best, the fewer said about her sticky and messy blond-like hair the better...
A blueish bright glow emanated through the boy's hands as he uttered "Diagnosis Jutsu" to himself as there was simply no one conscious enough to hear it or make sense of his words. The young one scanned through the woman's body suspecting assault, maybe she was attacked, injured with a kunai blade or maybe shot by one of those Syndicate's kunai firing gadgets they carried around. Soon the young medical ninja's eyes shot open wide before squinting just to protect his white as early winter snow eyes from the pouring rain.
"What say you, Doc, how much I got left?" The woman uttered, having her condition in mind it was surprising that she could even speak, blink or think. Kouta felt like being truthful with her may have been a bit too cruel, he did not know this woman or her story, he had no proof that Syndicate was even involved or her own role in that damned organization. He knew so little about her but she had so little time left that Kouta decided to spend his night with this woman... Right until her last.
"I'm going to heal you up, it won't cure you of what's wrong with you, that simply cannot be done, not by someone of my skill level and not by anyone in Otogakure. We'd need to see some specialists in Kirigakure or Konoha for that. I'll be as honest as human decency allows me to be – you don't have long... That is why I'll resort to healing you in the first place – any hospital would consider your case hopeless but you don't have enough time to snap out of this... Alcohol or drug induced... Whatever you're going through so I'll have to heal you partially just so you don't spend your final moments being high." Kouta replied as the light emanated from his hands changed color, turning salad green in the process.
He had no money or place to go until he was found by his friends. Human decency begged him to stay by this woman's side until her final moments...
*****
Mana kneeled by the body of the young girl on the ground. She carefully observed the stabbing wound on her chest – whoever wanted to kill this kid meant it, wanted it. It was strange how straight and unbent the angle was, so pretty... Almost like the girl didn't resist being stabbed. The scream that escaped her mouth must've come after she realized how painful being stabbed in the chest actually was, Mana would've known, after all. It's not something one brushes off, even if they fully wish it and for some reason intend on accepting the injury.
The people around the two girls began to grow bolder, some asked questions if Mana and Meiko had anything to do with this, some felt angry that the magician took examining the body into her own hands. Truth was that this wasn't even close to her team's jurisdiction, her mission was to find a place to sleep over in and then find Notasa, question the performer about the sphere, proceed to the coordinates written on it. This was something Mana took up to do because it felt like the right thing to do, Meiko just stood by carefully shoving anyone trying to get into Mana's face back.
"Mana, maybe you should hurry up with whatever you're planning to do, the Police Force could be here any minute, that'd get us in trouble. Unless you plan to spend our night at the arrest house, in which case it's a pretty desperate idea..." The blacksmith grunted as the flow of people gathering around them intensified. It wasn't that they were strong enough to push Meiko aside, far from it, however, their sheer numbers made seeing all of them and tracking their moves difficult.
"Coppers? Here? There is no Police Force in this goddamn place, maybe they'll come in an hour, maybe in two, just to play a charade that they still exist and are doing something..." Someone in the crowd informed Meiko and Mana which calmed the magician down, that meant she had ample time to think and understand what could have transpired here. The girl had always had a certain flair for strange and unexplainable, this murder certainly sounded like it.
"Since the Syndicate took over the streets there have been no murders like this, not for a while... What's even gonna happen?" Some of the villagers raised questions.
Mana stood up and sighed. "This is... Weird. This girl wanted to get stabbed, she offered no resistance against her attacker, the stabbing angle is neat and pretty like it all went just like it was supposed to, based on the angle of the stab I'd say the killer was barely this girl's height, the stab was upfront, a thrust, the person just raised their arm and drove it in..." She concluded.
"And?" Meiko wondered, "So we're looking for a bunch of kids killing other kids? Is this some sort of a game?" The blacksmith wondered.
"Yoruma have similar initiation rituals – playful duels where each contestant shows off just one move at a time trying to clash wits and techniques between each combatant. Or it could be a rite of passage of some sort but... This girl doesn't look like a Yoruma or a ninja in general – her hair color is bland and bright, she has no Yoruma tattoos, she doesn't wear a ninja kit or a headband..." Mana scratched her chin examining the young girl further. This peculiar and depressing murder intrigued her and it made the magician sick of herself to no end.
"Maybe the killer is a little guy, you know... Like has a growth problem or something, he makes himself out to be a kid and weaves his web around the kids, telling them lies and complicated psycho mumbo jumbo until the kids wish to die so they do not resist?" Meiko gave her own shot based on the information provided. Even genin straight out of Academy would've been able to analyze a body this way, make theories of what could've happened. Usually, the dead bodies would've had eviscerations, dismemberments, decapitations, blunt force or burn trauma suggesting of an exchange of ninjutsu. This body laid silent.
Mana looked at the side and pressed her fingers against a bunch of mud on the watery stone paved floor. She calculated the width and distance between steps, it could've been anyone's steps honestly with all these trouncing people but... The steps were those of a child or, as Meiko suggested, a very short person acting like one. They were surrounded by other footsteps that differed in width and angle as well as distance. That suggested that there may have been more kids accompanying the killer, the strange manner of the placement of the feet implied that the kids may have been skipping and prancing around. Or maybe it was just the drizzle disturbing what little respectable clues remained?
"This isn't good, this is a work of a group, that may mean that more kids would die today or some other day. We need to snoop around and try to pick some traces up... It'd be good if we had a sensor with us... Maybe there'd be a residual chakra signature if one of the killers was a ninja or at least an Academy student. The way things are now it's too complicated to be sure of anything..." Mana concluded standing up and walking away from the blood covered alleyway. She had left her fingerprints as well as her footprints in the pools of the girl's blood. If the Syndicate or the Police Force actually wished to apprehend them they'd have their work cut out for them, especially if anyone in the crowd recognized her as Konoha's Sorceress, that was not outside the realm of possibility...
"And we have to do this?" Meiko asked placing on and securing her wristbands as well as shoulder pads and boots, the blacksmith kunoichi was gearing up for war, or so it seemed...
"I've already failed to save those cave dwellers. I need to do this, I failed to save that girl but maybe we can still track whoever did this to her and prevent more dead children laying butchered in the alleyways." Mana answered with a sad and unconfident tone. Problems with confidence were something Meiko was quite familiar with, what with all of her problems controlling her chakra and properly executing ninjutsu techniques and all... Mana knew that deep in her gut, whatever complicated thought processes understandable only to Meiko herself transpired, she'd agree with the magician.
"Alright. Let's do this!" Meiko punched her own glove excitedly blasting out a small shockwave that picked up papers, wrappers, and rubbish in its wake, flipping over several trash bins around. The blacksmith must've been excited about this, why else would she lack any restraint of her chakra flow like that? "The guys will most likely be really pissed at us..." the blacksmith peeked at her backpack filled with Audra shards, something they should've used to secure a room to sleep in...
"After all this time working together you should know that I am the last person to care about what other people think of us..." Mana answered looking up into the dark sky and feeling the intensifying downpour pelting at her weak, depressed and restless face.
*****
"Ye'll hear about dis!" a Syndicate goon shouted out before Shimo's punch clocked the mafioso out. It only took an hour or two of waiting for the Syndicate goons to start showing up, willing to engage in some of the world-known Otogakure musical cultural activities. Not just any, in fact, the very best! These guys were no Audra brutes from way back, Shimo was not the strongest puncher and yet... The men crumbled even from his weakest and restrained fists.
"Shut up and take that jacket off, yours fits me much better than your friends' do," Shimo roughed out pointing at the long black and stripped four button jacket with shoulder pads that the goon wore. Carefully, Shimo assembled the whole set of clothes out of the Syndicate goons he beat up: black fancy leather boots, black trousers with stripes to match the suit, a shirt and a tie as well as the strange looking tie. Then, the boy picked off the hat off of one of the Mafiosi and a cigar out of the guy he just knocked out.
Carefully, the Yuki examined himself in front of a large puddle – the weird and faintly lit image suggested that the shirt was too tight and the jacket was way too large for him, either way – it looked acceptable enough to try his luck again. He may not have smoked but smoking would've added him some extra credibility as a cool Syndicate mafioso looking for evening entertainment. Slowly and somewhat lacking in confidence, the young man walked up to the bouncers again overhearing a quarrel between a group of arguing individuals.
"I'm the goddamn Much Money Cred – a rapping sensation, you stupid piece of shit! This whole fucking place, this goddamn evening wouldn't fucking happen if I wouldn't perform my life changing lyrics of my neat rhymes!" A gentleman proclaimed his self-imposed importance to the bouncers who looked like they were pulling the rapper's finger. The man looked way darker in his skin tone than anyone around, much darker even than Mana who at times looked a bit exotic compared to people around her. He wore a strange orange and white vest that covered his chest and left his muscular arms covered with tattoos open.
"Much Money Cred? Ey, Brock, you heard of this guy!? I sure as hell haven't..." The bouncer once again playfully exclaimed placing his arms behind their back and nodding at the back of the line with their chin.
"Nah, never heard of 'im, oh, sorry, maybe from the countless of interviews this guy gives in the papers and can't shut up about how he's the "New sensation sweeping all the nations", is that how ya call yourself?" The other finally revealed his game.
"I'm the most successful musical project in the history of mankind! My agent will hear about this, I'll bury this place under, UNDER I tell you!" The dark-skinned gentleman began wildly swinging his hands so frantically that he dropped his pink shaded glasses. Shimo has heard of the appropriate expression before but he had never seen someone actually wearing such glasses...
"Ey, whatever ya say, punk, just please don't tell your wife about it, she'll just tell you what kind of a type-A personality you are and then you'll end up beating her up again, big man" The bouncer snickered into his fist as the atmosphere became a little more serious after this event was mentioned.
"Or wait, did you do that last month already and this month is drunk exhibitionism time, I get the wife beating month confused with the last one..."
"Always happens, could happen to anyone, really... Sometimes Cred himself is so drunk he mixes them up" The bouncer's friend simulated genuine pity.
"The thing is, Much Money Cred, that we know who you fucking are and we know what you do to keep your "Most Successful Musical Project" rep around these parts. Guess what, you ain't even that important, we could just say that you came here naked again and yelling some religious babble while spitting at everyone and we didn't let you in and no one would bat an eye... Also, I work as a fucking bouncer, to me a job in a fast food joint would be a promotion, oh, sorry, Mr. Natos, you go right in..." The bouncer started giving his huge moral of the day before noticing another performer, a large man covered with blond hair and facial hair like the mane on a lion carrying a colossal sized guitar with him, and letting him in.
"What the fuck was that!?" Much Money Cred outright shrieked out after another singer was let in while he was forced to stand outside in the rain and listen to what those bouncers tried to tell him. "He sings fucking country, COUNTRY and you let him in! Who the fuck listens to country anymore!?" Cred began rampaging around knocking over trash cans and tearing his vest off his body. At that point, Shimo decided he's had enough, slowly and more confidently the young man strolled up to the bouncers who were calming Money Cred down and tipped his hat.
"It's a fine evenin' fellas..." the young man spoke trying to emulate the dialect and the accent of the Syndicate guys, it appeared like the Syndicate rep here was flawless as he was let in without as much as a hitch.
"What the literal fuck, that guy is a fucking mobster! He came here right after murdering someone for money, for fuck's sake!" Much Money continued his anger fueled rampage. It'd probably take some long time of stopping the line before the guy was let in. Honestly, Shimo started to think he should've slipped in faster since the rapper came pretty close to ruining his mood for the day. He was beginning to think that he had just about enough of those musicians for a day or thirty...