In the next instant- no, in the same instant, a cloaked figure emerged from above. Standing atop the derelict watchtower he cut an imposing figure. As the black skull spun upwards his head bowed down to watch its slow ascent. Then, at the apex of its trajectory, his deft hands he plucked the still tumbling black skull from the air. A clean pass.

He glanced down only momentarily, first at the still fallen Yuu, then at the bewildered Hana. His extended hand looked pristine and his hood and mask still sat firmly in place. There wasn’t a scratch nor drop of blood on him.

When Hana noticed the new shadow her eyes twitched up, her cool anger piercing through the haze of confusion. Her eyes fell on the insufferable smiling face of one Hashimoto Daisuke, holding in his unhurt hands the precious treasure which the Metsina royal family had entrusted to her protection.

“Thanks, kids.”

Daiuske's body fell back and out of sight. Hana didn't waste a second, and yanking her ribbons from her failed attack she effortlessly slung the fabric upwards towards the top of the wooden tower. The sharp ribbons bit into the building and held tight as she used her improvised moorings as an anchor to pull herself up the side of the structure. In a matter of seconds Hana reached the top and her entourage of sharpened fabric trailed behind her, lashing out blindly as she sought to catch Daisuke off guard with her rapid arrival.

Bits and pieces of the old wood of the watchtower splintered and rained down into the alley below as her assault tore the top of the building to shreds. Hana's eyes quickly adjusted to the sudden influx of sunlight after leaving the relative shadiness of the alley and confirmed her fear. Not a soul could be seen from her vantage point.

Broken chunks of wood stuck out at odd angles on the tower's observation deck, and more than a few stuffed garbage bags sat splaying out their contents across the flat surface of the top of the tower. The large body of Daisuke was nowhere to be seen. Hana stopped her frenzied ribbon whipping and darted to the edge to look at the street below. Finding nothing she checked each side, but still saw nothing. Scanning the horizon brought the same results. Nobody was fleeing the scene. Daisuke's distinctive silhouette was nowhere. Just as he had done after being stabbed by her jutsu, Daisuke had vanished into thin air.

“No blood trail?” Yuu huffed, finally having ascended the side of the structure under his own strength using the sketchy looking ladder from below. “Not even a drop?”

“There’s nothing.” Despite her mounting frustration Hana’s voice retained its level-headedness. “It’s like he wasn’t even here.”

“He teleported, right? I wasn’t seeing things?” Yuu’s own voice wavered with uncertainty. As he spoke he rubbed his battered leg. “I’ve heard rumors but that's just crazy. Do you think General Daisuke actually has a hundred jutsu?”

“Who knows.” Hana inhaled sharply as the realization finally set in there would be no easy way to chase the thief. “He had something else in his hand, a coil of something. Maybe he's getting outside help. I don't know.”

Yuu’s downcast face clearly indicated the boy already admitted defeat. At least the sun’s rays felt warm. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. We’ve been on Jinchi less than a day and got a royal family heirloom stolen by a high ranking official of another country. We're super screwed.”

As Yuu spoke Hana began rewrapping her bandages around her forearms. She barely seemed to register the boy’s words as her eyes moved between all the potential escape routes. Eventually she responded with the distant, inhuman tone she always used when the going got tough. “Daisuke is a wanted Annitou criminal. He can’t show his face anywhere without their forces knowing about it and likely can't leave the island yet. We will have another chance to catch him.”

“Yeah?” Yuu regained enough breath to speak a bit more forcefully. “The dude didn’t even use his fire jutsu on us, probably because he didn’t want to get noticed. If he was going all out we’d both be dead.”

“You'd be dead. I'd probably survive.” Hana turned her head only slightly to look in the direction of the Jinchi harbor. “He was very slow. I could beat him.”

“His bloody heart didn’t even stop when I blew it up!” Yuu hissed. “You stabbed him right in the throat! How are we going to do better than that next time?”

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Hana snapped back with more than a hint of venom in her voice. “First thing we have to do is stay calm. What if General Ama saw you acting like this? Like a child throwing a tantrum?”

“And what about you then huh?” Now it was Yuu’s turn to act exasperated. “You know Ama-”

“Don’t call her that.”

“-our mentor would have let me die back there to make sure she got the kill. She was wrong, Hana. Since my neck isn’t slit, I know you think that too.”

“I didn’t anticipate the target being able to disappear at the drop of a hat.” Hana exhaled slowly to try and drain the excess frustration building up in her chest. “It was probably the right choice to have let you die back there, knowing what I do now.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Am I wrong?” Hana finally glanced back, only turning just far enough so one eye fell onto the still in pain Yuu. “What exactly did you contribute to that fight?”

“Hana...”

“We’re wasting daylight.” She clasped both of her fingers around the straps of the bag still weighing down on her shoulders. “The longer you keep whining the farther away he gets. Let’s get moving.” Yuu bit his tongue but kept quiet. There wasn’t any point arguing the point now. The two did a quick evaluation of their injuries, then a couple minutes later leapt down from the top of the abandoned building, heading back towards the bustling settlement center and away from the isolated outskirts.

The sun crept up in the sky bit by bit, eventually disappearing itself behind some growing tropical clouds. A breeze picked up. A gaggle of birds came down and landed on the roof of the now trashed watchtower. It was as quiet a scene as one could find in the usual chaos of Camp Monog.

Not breaking the silence one of the nearby piles of garbage moved every so slightly. Wisps of opaque smoke curled out from its edges. The discarded cartons and wads of plastic disappeared, blown away like dust in the Jinchi wind. In a manner very uncharacteristic of a giant pile of trash, a deep breath escaped from within. In a matter of moments that particular section of garbage was gone, its shape and color having evaporated into the air, and leaving behind only the cloaked form of a very patient Motonubu.

Every breath he took was slow and nearly imperceptible, as if he was asleep. Still very conscious he turned his head around to ensure nobody was peeking out at him from the tops of the other nearby abandoned shacks, then rubbed his neck with one of his calloused hands. A bit of blood indicated the girl's wild flailing had managed to clip him, but it was nothing worth resetting over. Someone like him always needed to double check and verify everything anyway, as even small mistakes could have disastrous consequences. To that end he reached into his pockets and retrieved both the glistening obsidian skull, and the glass coil hourglass, letting each rest in his palms as he examined them for damage. Finding both to be in acceptable condition and reasonably sure nobody was watching him, he finally stood up.

Onto the next job.

The explosive growth of Camp Monog meant there were more than ample spaces for ne’er-do-wells and scoundrels to hide away in. The outskirt slums in particular were ideal for temporary dwellings. After a bit of searching Motnoubu located a specific tin shack which wobbled so much in the wind it seemed as though it might fall over at any second. He ducked to enter through a low framed door right as a strong gust of wind shook its thin metal walls hard enough to deafen him. Even so, he heard a distinct female voice shoot out at him with a tone of deep satisfaction. “Now that I'm used to your disguises I don't even need to bother with a password. You're kind of a one trick pony, aren't you?”

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light within the metal shack Motonubu lingered at the dilapidated doorway of the shack. One could never be too safe after all. “Legionnaire Junko, that isn’t very cautious of you.”

“The thing about you career soldiers types is your lack of imagination.” Sitting on a crate on the far end of the small shack interior was the Iron Tower herself, Kiku-ichimonji Junko. Both her swords lay at the ready her side. A knife and block of wood in one of her hands indicated she must have been spending the time whittling, though there weren’t any wood shavings on the dirt floor. “Your disguises never have any piercings or jewelry or accessories at all. Seems like a pretty big give-away to me. I guess your Wispform isn't all that, huh?”

Motonubu slowly advanced into the dwelling as trails of smoke drifted from his body, releasing the disguise around him. Slowly the form of Daisuke disappeared an the much shorter, more disappointing real form of Motonubu took it's place. Junko watched it warily having only seen the Garion agent remove his jutsu once before. Was she taking note of exactly how long the process took? “Not very useful in combat either. I can see why you sneak around everywhere like a rat. Guess that’s why you needed me.” She put her knife down and held her wooden sculpture up to the dim light filtering through the gaps in the metal sheets of the shack. “How did your job go? Get your ass kicked again?”

“I accomplished my objective.” Motonubu stopped far enough to be just out of reach of Junko’s swords. “How is our guest?”

“Unhappy.” Junko put the sculpture down and leaned back. “As would any kid who just got kidnapped would be.”

“Is he eating?”

“A little. He didn’t like the fish you brought.”

“A crying shame.” Motonubu's head turned slowly again as he stepped lightly into the small interior. “Where is he now?”

“First let’s talk about the payment.” Junko’s eyes narrowed slightly and Motonubu shifted his posture to match. “Is the hourglass with you?”

“It is somewhere safe.” Both of Motonubu’s arms were concealed within his cloak and his upright stance made it impossible to tell exactly what stance the Agent was taking. Junko’s arms were at ease but the proximity of her weapons and her speed meant it didn’t matter much what position she was in. In these close quarters Junko held an immediate advantage if the situation turned hostile, and both of them knew it.

“It is a quite dangerous tool, for your information.” Motonubu spoke with a wary tone, choosing each of his words with deliberate care. “Misusing it would likely result in death for someone less meticulous. You should be grateful I am learning its intricacies.”

“I’ll be grateful when you pay me.” Junko sighed and attempted to appear casual by redoing the bun that her hair was tied in. “You want to give me an instruction manual when you are done with it? Maybe I just want to sell it, huh?”

“If you just wanted money, you would have accepted the first offer Garion gave you.” Motonubu took a few more steps as he tried to decipher where the boy was being kept, keeping exactly the same distance between himself and Junko as he moved. The shack only seemed a single room, however. “There would be ample oppurtunity to have betrayed you at this point. Surely you can trust we will pay you as promised..”

“You say that, but Garion didn’t have any issue stabbing one of its own Generals in the back, didn’t it?”

“General Daisuke stabbed himself in the back.” Motonubu’s breaths were so shallow it almost seemed like he wasn’t breathing at all. “You have one more job to complete and then you will receive the hourglass. Garion will be finished with it by then.”

“Somehow hearing I’ve almost outlived my usefulness isn’t the most encouraging thing.” Junko shifted her posture forward and leaned on one knee, and Motonubu reflexively took a few steps back. The reaction brought a tiny smile to the woman’s face. “He's downstairs.” She tapped with her foot on the crate she sat on, which Motonubu now noticed was sitting stop some kind of wooden hatch “Probably heard the whole thing, too. Hope that doesn't ruin anything, my dear employer.”

Motonubu took a second to collect himself, in more than one sense. Clenching a fist he focused for a moment on the image he wished to portray, and in the next a fine smoke drifted from the surface of his skin, as if he was beginning to smolder. The nearby Junko watched with interest. Even in her lengthy experience of being a mercenary, her interaction with the upper echelons of foreign governments tended to be limited. That meant few opportunities to observe the strange requirements necessary for the usage of each individual jutsu, and any good soldier would do well to learn about an enemy in a safe environment. The opaque smoke surrounding Motonubu coalesced and took on a different shape and color, and as it solidified the smoke even began to take on a different texture. In the past, those capable of using these strange arts were revered as divine and worthy of reverence. These days nearly every meaningful individual capable of jutsu was under control or employ of their nations government. Junko was thankful to have her freedom.

Even a relatively weak jutsu like Motonubu’s was still a sight to behold and within seconds his outer appearance changed drastically, the smoke cloak around him finally settling into the specific shell and countenance of Hashimoto Daisuke. Of course the differences in posture and demeanor between the two men would have revealed Motonubu to be an impostor immediately. Only in the mixing pot of Jinchi's clueless community could the Agent get away with so brazen a disguise. “Like I said,” Junko leaned her head on one arm as she examined Motonubu’s attempt at imitation. “No imagination.”

“Your opinion has been noted.” Motonubu’s voice hadn't changed much, but he did appear to be imitating Daisuke's specific cadence and tone as he spoke. Motonubu’s relatively small size was completely concealed within the larger Daisuke frame, and his own 'real' head was placed somewhere around where Daisuke's rib cage appeared to be. An important distinction that Junko noted, in case she needed to quickly land a killing blow. Slitting a smoke shell's throat wouldn't quite do the job.

After some uncomfortable repositioning, Junko took up a post near the enterance, while Motonubu moved to remove the crate and hatch holding his prisoner. What little light did penetrate the shack found an even harder time reaching the depths of the hole once he removed the covering. Motonubu's suspicious eyes turned back towards Junko, who did little but give a shrug. “I gave the kid a candle. He likes to sit in the dark, I guess.”

Not very satisfied by the answer but seeing no other course of action, Motonubu crouched down and let his eyes readjust to the dark. “Cadet Gekko.” His altered voice rumbled but found no response. “I assume you are sleeping. I wish to speak with you.”

“Trying to sleep.” A groggy voice came from the darkness below. As his eyes adjusted Motonubu noticed a small boy curled up in the far corner of the hole. There was little down there but some mats, discarded canned rations, and an unmentionable bucket. The barest amenities one could give a cadet without risking an escape attempt. The always wary Motonubu was a bit surprised the boy hadn’t tried to stage some ambush or plan of escape- perhaps he had already tried with Junko and found such approaches unproductive.

“You may resume sleeping when we are finished.” Motonubu shifted his posture to make sure no sudden movements caught him off guard. “I wish to discuss what services you will provide us before we release you.”

“...I don't feel like talking to you or Junko.” Gekko yawned and pulled himself up. The boy still wore the Annitou uniform, although the rough handling of getting him to this temporary prison scuffed up its usually pristine condition. Motonubu scowled for more than one reason and again looked up at Junko, who was suddenly very interested in carving out her statue again. The woman revealed her name to the boy, apparently. Clearly she wasn’t used to dealing with the discretion necessary when kidnapping foreign soldiers.

“You can just listen, then.” Motonubu resumed glowering down at the child. “If you cooperate, we have no reason to harm you. You might be back with your people as soon as tomorrow morning.”

“What, is this not cooperation?” The sleepiness faded from his voice as he sat up, the usual tones of indifference replaced now with annoyance. “I don’t think I could get more docile than this. You should consider yourself lucky I haven’t started screaming or banging on the walls.”

“We have prepared for that eventuality.”

“Oh I bet you have. Any excuse to tie up and abuse some poor kid, right? You Garion thugs are all the same.”

That comment earned a bit of a smirk from Motonubu. “I think you will find me more reasonable than most. We only wish to make use of your knowledge.” Gekko’s expression didn’t appear to change, indicating the boy either already knew or didn’t care. Motonubu decided to go with the latter. “You are capable of speaking Bossa, are you not?”

“Oh, you think?” Gekko's repsonse came back slightly stilted and defensive. Motonubu didn't need to know he was right, but it was always good to get confirmation.

Finding herself not so subtly eavesdropping, Junko chimed in from the back. “That's what we risked our life for? Some kid who can speak another language? You said- that's not impressive, my niece can speak like four languages.”

“Bossa can't be spoken by everyone.” Motonubu didn't take his attention away from Gekko but the tone in his voice indicated clear annoyance at Junko's intrusion. “Impossible, actually. Only those born with the ears to hear it can speak it properly.”

“I never said I could speak...whatever language you're saying.”

“Deny it if you wish. Garion has your records, Cadet Gekko. You possess no jutsu and are of no use to Annitou without some other skill.” The matter of fact way Motonubu delivered the line seemed to have the desired effect as Gekko stirred from his sitting position. Reeling in his bait, Motonubu laid on the pressure. “It is common knowledge that Annitou uses Bossa speakers to pass along coded communications. You are a glorified messenger boy for your nation.”

“Gee,” Gekko spat. “You sure are selling me on this whole cooperation thing. What a sweet talker.”

“I appreciate your continued attention.” Motonubu reached into his person and retrieved a small black rock in the shape of a skull. Junko’s eyes snapped off of her work at to the artifact in Motonubu’s hands. She tensed up in preparation, in case something happened. Motonubu seemed much more relaxed about it. Somewhere in the distance, dogs began to bark. “Do you recognize this?”

“What, do I recognize a rock?”

Motonubu turned the artifact around in his hand as if examining it even while observing the boy’s own reactions. “Do you hear it speak, Cadet Gekko? Does it tell you anything?”

“Hm.” Gekko blinked a few times as he stared up into the relatively bright world above him. “Yeah, I can hear it.”

Motonubu leaned a bit forward, as he hadn't expected it to be that easy. “Oh? What does it say?”

“It's saying...'an ugly idiot is holding me, and also he smells bad'.”

A deep, relenting sigh rolled out of Motonubu. Gekko turned his nose up to give as smug a smirk as one could given his position. After some contemplated silence, Motonubu's expression returned to normal and he placed the skull back into his cloak. “Well, it does not matter either way if you can hear it or not.” Motonubu glanced back at Junko, who resumed pretending to not be listening in on the conversation. “Tell me, Cadet Gekko, do you know the story of Jinchi? I assume Annitou has given you some manner of fantastic fairy tale to believe.”

“What’s it to you? Isn't Garion a nation full of atheists?” Gekko, now fully awake, resumed speaking with a dismissive attitude. “I wouldn't think someone as dense as you would care about children's stories.”

After a stern hiss, Motonubu gestured with one hand as if offering it to the child. “A fundamental misunderstanding of Garion’s policy, not that I would expect anything less from Annitou’s fanatics. You, certainly, Cadet Gekko, would know better than to blindly believe your country’s propaganda, would you not?”

“Do you have a point here, grandpa?” Gekko seemed to be retreating from the light of the hole. “Just kill me, I'd rather be dead than listen to you prattle on like a lunatic.”

“Garion,” Motonubu began his lecture, “does not deny the existence of the divine. We have simply identified it as an enemy to be destroyed, rather than revered and worshiped.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Yes, well.” Motonubu knit his fingers together in furtive thought. “We have done a splendid job so far. No self-described gods have interfered with Garion for hundreds of years.”

“If that’s what you want to think, more power to you.”

“Please,” Motonubu’s face, even if it did look like Daisuke's, resumed a very familiar looking scowl. “Let me finish. Jinchi disappeared centuries ago, and one such theory is that it happened because of divine intercession. Garion simply wishes to confirm no such presence dwells on this island. Your understanding of Bossa will allow us to do so.”

“So now Garion is believing in fairy tales?” Gekko’s tone only grew more agitated, but Motonubu could tell even in the young child’s demeanor that the comment in particular seemed to affect him more than others. “The world is a big place and full of mysteries. I don’t know anything. I can’t help you talk to the gods, if that was your big plan.”

“You don't need to talk. Only to listen.” Motonubu stood back up. Junko was back at it with her wood, apparently having lost interest in the conversation. “At any rate, we only need your ears and mouth. Refuse to cooperate and we will leave your superfluous body parts behind. Legionnaire Junko.” Motonubu gestured again down the hole as Junko gave him a bored glower. “Do not accept any more gifts from the child.”

“What?” Junko looked up as if startled. “I don’t understand at all what you mean. You think I would be dumb enough to take a present from a hostage?”

“I think you will be smart enough to clean up the wood shavings you left down in his hole.” Motonubu unceremoniously closed the hatch without another word to Gekko. “At the very least, keep your conversations with him to a minimum. ” Junko shrugged in indifference at having been found out. Truth was that the kid was surprisingly harmless for an Annitou soldier. Had they kidnapped anyone else the former bodyguard was positive she would have had to deal with much more of a fight. Yet for the last day the boy had been very amiable to the conditions, apart from his somewhat crabby attitude. For a country full of zealots it was impressive that this alleged Bossa speaker was so ambivalent to his situation.

“We will move out shortly.” Motonubu was already shifting his disguise again, now back to the nondescript civilian appearance he wore for anonymity. “Len Sosu is after the final artifact and will be joining us in due time. Move the child at sundown in preparation for tomorrow.”

“And I’ll be paid then, right?”

Eyes sizing up the still seated Junko, Motonubu reached again into his person and caused her to shift back to a defensive stance. There was simply no pulling a fast one on this woman. He pulled out a small cloth satchel and tossed it at her feet. The contents rattled as he did so, clearly indicating some manner of coinage was inside. “For the trip. Final payment will be delivered once we no longer have need of the hourglass.”

“That isn’t really an answer.”

“It is because I do not really know when we will be done with it.” Motonubu headed towards the rusty metal door of the shack. “Daisuke is still at large, the Fenshingiri agent has our last artifact, and the Metsina agents might find us before then.”

“You forgot Annitou.”

“I am not terribly concerned about them.”

“Hey, quick question.” Junko didn't move to pick up the coin bag, opting to wait for Motonubu to leave before making any such movements. “You're telling me all this is just for some kid who knows another language. Doesn't Garion have any Bossa speakers they could have used?”

“Oh, no, of course not.” Motonubu gave Junko a chilling stare. “As a matter of protocol any native of Garion found capable of speaking Bossa is considered an enemy of the state and is burned at the stake. Simple protocol, you see.”

Silence.

“I look forward to our next meeting, Legionnaire Junko.”

Then Motonubu slipped out like he slipped in, without so much as a whisper. There was work to be completed yet.