Mori and Hazō only just made it to the terrified client in time, with a confused (and disappointed) Wakahisa following half a second later. The assassin leapt back, over the three civilian bodyguards' bodies...

...and into formation with the other two enemy ninja.

The world slowed around Hazō, lines drawing themselves through the air around him, the skintight tunnels of the Kurosawa bloodline mapping his library of movements across the infinite possibility space of the real world.

Tonfa: close combat specialist, strong on defense. Leave her for Wakahisa; paper to rock. Bandoleers: ranged. Hazō's target, rock to scissors. Unknown...ninjutsu?...genjutsu? Leave for Keiko—ranged attacks and analysis gifts best match for wildcard.

Team at stake, do not hold back: activate boost / Lightning-fire racing through veins that thrum with the power of chakra as strength and speed flood the body that has become nothing but a far-off puppet of his will and the Kurosawa blood / Open mouth to speak words, must take care, force sound to come out slow, comprehensible: Black Flag! the command to send team into all-out alpha strike, each against their best target—wait!

Client: Had already seen team shunshin, knew they were ninja, must be silenced. Kill? Perhaps. Might be salvaged. Disable...ah. Grab, fling to Wakahisa for—

"You bastard!" Wakahisa says, grabbing the client and spinning him around so that the man's body is between himself and the enemy. In the momentary concealment, Wakahisa flicks through the two handseals of the Water Whip; a water construct surges down his arms and out of his sleeves. A subtle tug and the client's shirt is untucked, his hara exposed. Water slips in, spilling across the client's body and sucking the strength out of him in seconds even as the genin punches the man in the face and knocks him flat, pulling the Whip back into his sleeve at the same time to keep it hidden.

"You never said anything about ninja!" Wakahisa says, kicking the unconscious body at his feet while Hazō trembles with the effort to restrain his chakra-enhanced body, prevent himself from leaping to the attack, calling the words, must go slow must go slow, stand down....

The enemy ninja look at each other in confusion. It's only for an instant, but it's a gap in the armor of their awareness, a failure of attention. It would have been enough—could have killed the wildcard right then: shunshin, high side kick to crush skull, spin, plant foot, mule kick to ranged enemy, Black Flag to call down a storm of kunai and a crushing Water Whip, the power of his team becoming an extention of his own body as he dances through the enemy's futile attempts at blocking....

"Stand down, everyone," Wakahisa says, waving at his team without looking away from the enemy, not stupid, not slow like them, keeping the armor tight; enemy male's hand drifting so very slowly to kunai on belt kill! no, hold, wait—

"Look, guys, you're here for him, right?" Wakahisa says, stepping slightly forward, arms spread. Good, smooth gesture to defuse tension, diffuse attention, movement is in the library from six-year-old self's playground scuffles, prevented a fight then, maybe now?

"He hired us to escort him to Hanaoka," Wakahisa says. "We figured he just didn't want to get eaten by a chakra vole. He never said anything about ninja; it's not in the contract, it's not our problem. You want him? You got him. We'll take the money he promised us, we're gone. You're welcome to him."

What? Enemy male's hand has stopped moving, enemy are looking at each other again, so weak, opening wider this time, so easy, so easy—

"We are of the Yakuza," the wildcard girl says. "We were assigned to retrieve what he stole. I cannot let you take anything from him." Seam at edge of voice, covering hesitation, uncertainty, weakness, so easy so easy—

"I get that," Wakahisa says. "Still, you're ninja, you see what is to be seen. You're facing three ninja of unknown skill and specialization. Fighting us is a pointless risk; even if you win, some of you will get killed. Maybe all of you, in which case you fail your mission."

The girl's face starts to twist, muscles shifting into an angry sneer. Good. Anger is distraction, focuses her attention on teammate, narrows her focus, opens her to attack from the side—

Wakahisa sees her expression changing and smoothly cuts her off. "We don't want to fight," he says. The girl blinks in surprise. "This piece of trash"—Wakahisa waves towards the unconscious client, seeming to move so slowly when seen through the gleaming spark that is chakra boost—"hired us for escorts, but didn't tell us that he was being chased by Yakuza ninja. We had enough of being betrayed by our superiors before we left our village, and we certainly aren't going to take it from some piece of crap civilian."

Wakahisa's casual shrug distracts enemy further, scatters their awareness; they don't know how to respond, their centering is disrupted, so easy, so easy—

"Look," Wakahisa says. "He promised us eight thousand each for the escort job, but I know he's carrying at least twice that. Is a few thousand ryō really worth a risk of dying—or, worse, of failing your mission? Wouldn't it be better to let us take the money and walk away so that you can get home quickly to tell your employers that there are other missing-nin in the area?" He flashes her an easy smile and a wink. "Missing-nin, may I add, who have no problem working for anyone who has money and doesn't lie to their employees or hide important information from them."

"Perhaps," says the girl, attention shattered, center disrupted, trying to shift gears, losing focus.

"I'm not going to argue this," Wakahisa says, cold iron pouring from his voice. The cloud of his will presses down on the enemy, the edges of it winding around Hazō like trails of icy mist. "Me and my friends are walking out of here in thirty seconds. Whether we do it over your dead bodies is up to you, but the money goes with us."

"All right," the girl says, stepping back and raising her hands placatingly, her body open, balance disrupted, kunai would slide in so easily right there.... "You're right. Fighting does no one any good. Take the money and go."

"Good," Wakahisa says. "The money's in his tunic. I'm going to get it now, so just stay cool." He steps backwards, foot sweeping a smooth arc, still in contact with the ground to test for obstructions, good, balance not perfect easy to disrupt with kick to ankle must work on that during sparring but gently mind the ego wait wait slow slow—

Wakahisa sinks smoothly to one knee and rummages in the client's tunic, his eyes never leaving the enemy. He sorts the bills by touch, pulling out twenty-four thousand and leaving the rest before straightening up.

"Our employers are always interested in hiring ninja," the girl says, attempting to regain control that she never had in the first place, her posture giving away her submission, her lack of awareness, her weakness. Enemy has drawn together, too close. Unless they have more group-fighting practice than seems likely they will foul each other if attacked. Victory would be so easy, there's a tunnel right there that ends with the right fist crushing the wildcard's throat, the left smashing her diaphragm, both hands open and grip to lift the body, hurl it into remaining enemies—

"Sounds good," Wakahisa says. "We'll be in touch as soon as we figure out how to do it safely for all concerned. We'll identify with code word 'thornbush'." He straightens and steps back, opening the range, back and back and back. The team follows, slotting into place smoothly around Wakahisa; Keiko and Hazō stay turned slightly out, minding sides and rear while Wakahisa takes front. When they've gone far enough to risk their backs, they turn and leap away. Time to put some ground under their feet.

o-o-o-o

"That was amazing," Mori said. "I didn't think we were getting out of that without a fight, and certainly not with the money." She smiled at him.

Wakahisa shrugged, giving her a cocky smile. He was on one knee, his hand in the river to absorb chakra to replenish their supply. Unbelievably, he managed to make the posture look cool. "It seemed better this way," he said.

Hazō laughed. "I'd say so," he said. It was easy to be honest; Wakahisa had pulled off something remarkable and, miraculously, was managing to not be smug about it.

"See, Kurosawa?" Wakahisa said. "Told you I'd be a good leader."

Well, not too smug.

Hazō opened a hand in acknowledgement. "You're right," he said. "So. What now, O Fearless Leader? We've got enough money for the chocolate, but not for everything together. What's the plan from here?"