Chapter 171: Infiltration, Old-School Style

​ The Old Schoolhouse loomed in the darkness like a slumbering behemoth, sated for now with the suffering of schoolchildren, but not averse to a late-night snack were one to stumble into its lair. Even now, with the lights out and its form indistinct beneath the faint moonlight, Keiko could feel it listening like a sleeping cat, deceptively peaceful yet ready to pounce.

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST COAST THROUGH MY ACADEMY RIDING YOUR SISTER'S COAT-TAILS, MORI KEIKO? ARE YOU PERHAPS TOO GOOD TO RAISE YOUR HAND OR SPEAK BEFORE THE CLASS? DO YOU FEEL OUR EDUCATION SYSTEM DOES NOT FIT YOUR NEEDS? PERHAPS YOU'D RATHER OBTAIN AN EDUCATION ELSEWHERE? I HEAR THE TANNERS ARE TAKING APPRENTICES RIGHT NOW, AND THERE IS ALWAYS ROOM FOR ANOTHER STREET CLEANER. NO? THEN GO REPORT FOR DETENTION. I EXPECT TO HAVE NO NEED TO SEE YOU IN THIS OFFICE AGAIN.

​ DO YOU KNOW WHY A SERIOUS INSTITUTION LIKE THE MIST ACADEMY OF THE NINJA ARTS HAS A PLAYGROUND, MORI KEIKO? IT IS BECAUSE THE SOCIAL BONDS YOU FORGE DURING YOUR CHILDHOOD ARE WHAT WILL DETERMINE THE ENTIRE REST OF YOUR LIFE AS A NINJA. BOTH YOUR REFUSAL TO SIT WITH THE OTHER CHILDREN DURING LUNCH AND THE WAY YOU SPEND YOUR BREAKS ENSCONCED IN THE LIBRARY LIKE A WORM BURYING ITSELF INTO THE GROUND ARE UTTERLY UNACCEPTABLE. DO YOU FEEL YOURSELF ABOVE THE NEED FOR FRIENDS? PERHAPS THE IDEA OF TEAMWORK DOES NOT APPEAL TO YOU? THE NORTHERN VILLAGES ALWAYS HAVE ROOM FOR MORE HUNTERS AND TRAPPERS, THE ATTRITION RATE BEING WHAT IT IS. NO? THEN GO REPORT FOR DETENTION. I EXPECT TO SEE YOU PLAYING WITH THE OTHER CHILDREN WITH A SMILE ON YOUR FACE NEXT TIME I PASS THROUGH THE PLAYGROUND.

CAUGHT IN ANOTHER ALTERCATION, MORI KEIKO? IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK OF YOU TO GO ONE SINGLE WEEK WITHOUT DISRUPTING MY ACADEMY’S DISCIPLINE? HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THE FEELINGS OF THE OTHER CHILDREN WHEN YOU PROVOKE THEM WITH YOUR ARROGANT BEHAVIOUR? WHEN DESPITE EVERY SIGN OF THEIR DISAPPROVAL YOU FAIL TO INTEGRATE YOURSELF INTO THE GROUP? DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF… UGH. NOT AGAIN. YOU GIRLS ALWAYS THINK A LITTLE CRYING WILL BE ENOUGH TO GET YOU OUT OF TROUBLE. MURANO! REMOVE THIS SNIVELLING CHILD FROM MY PRESENCE. SHE HAS A DETENTION TO ATTEND.

Ordinarily, Kei might have hesitated to target a man with a fundamentally civilian role who posed no obstacle to any of her objectives. Ordinarily, Kei might have hesitated to feed a man narcotic substances when a miscalculation could ruin his health, or worse. Ordinarily, Kei might have hesitated to destroy a man’s career, or manoeuvre him into publicly humiliating the highest levels of government. Fortunate, then, that Old Lizardbreath had always claimed to be an extraordinary man. If there was any hesitation before Kei signalled to commence his downfall, it was because she knew that she could only savour the experience once.​

“Proceed,” she whispered to Panashe.

“Acknowledged, Summoner,” came the hissed response, and then if Kei had not known what to look for, she might not have realised that the pangolin was no longer at her side.

With no way to support Panashe's scouting, Kei could only wait. A few times, she could feel herself becoming drowsy, but all she needed to do was recall those visits to the headmaster’s office, the sensation of her very sense of self shrivelling beneath his litany of contempt, and the flare of emotions would restore her to the peak of alertness.

Finally, there came another whisper. “Scouting complete.”

“Report.”

“There are three guards whose patrol routes take them through this part of the compound. Unimposing specimens, with no special equipment that I could see. They carry lanterns. Searching for traps was harder, but between watching the guards' movements and my own decades of experience in the field, it was child's play to figure out a safe route to the target location.”

Kei nodded, then recalled that the act was pointless. “What is our infiltration window?”

“Fifteen minutes. After that, a guard will be in position to see any light from the office window.”

Kei frowned. “How much light will you need to work on the traps?”

“Enough, Summoner. Surely you know that vision is not my kind’s strongest sense. Why do you think my scouting of the area took so long?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Kei repeated. “As the expert, do you feel this would be sufficient time?”

“For traps designed to fend off half-trained human children, certainly,” Panashe said smugly.

“Then tell me when it is safe to move.”

In her head, Kei commenced the timer. With all sound blocked off by the Silence Mine and the moon invisible behind the clouds, she was deeply, deeply grateful that Ami had taken the time to drill her in the practice of precise mental countdowns.

Ami. Ami whom she would never see again, not as a sister. Ami who must have felt so betrayed to know that Kei had left the clan once and for all. Ami, whose smile in those final moments had been a bottomless abyss that no amount of light could fill.

Panashe turned around, and pointed a claw meaningfully at the lantern. Kei steadied her hands.

The infiltration, at least, had been easy. The guards were, true to Panashe’s word, neither to be seen nor heard. The path through the traps, while circuitous, was straightforward to follow, with no “step into my footsteps” nonsense. More remarkably still, Old Lizardbreath had been lazy enough to leave the window unshuttered before his departure, doubtless trusting in his traps and the strength of his reputation to ward off any would-be intruders. With a grim smile nobody could see, Kei added complacency to his vast pile of sins.

Panashe beckoned Kei over and indicated a sliding panel in the floor, not that well-concealed—as if Old Lizardbreath wanted children to find it so that they could proceed to be mauled by the traps.

A great deal highly professional pangolin scrabbling later, Kei found herself with a nearly-full bottle of Kurohige’s Revenge in her hand. Of course Old Lizardbreath would drink expensive premium whisky. He was a man convinced that he deserved the best of everything. Much about his behaviour could be understood if one considered how far the Academy was from being the best of everything if you despised children.

Fortune continued to favour the bold. The bottle was open (had it been sealed, the mission would have been a failure there and then), and while there was room for others, no other alcohol was in evidence tonight.

On the other hand, the disarming had taken longer than Kei had hoped. Looking at the disassembled traps, Kei suspected that, despite being a man of mediocre talent who had little respect for the skills of children, over the decades Old Lizardbreath had nevertheless found time to optimise his setup to a surprising level. She supposed he had to do something with all the free time generated by offloading his work onto his long-suffering secretary.

The rest was trivial. Kei extracted the flask of betel oil from her backpack and began to calculate the necessary dose based on Noburi’s exacting instructions.

Her hand paused as it hovered over Kurohige’s Revenge. Looking at the label again, the word called out to her. Could it truly be a coincidence that this was Old Lizardbreath’s preferred brand? Or could it be called fate, or at least beautiful irony?

HOW MUCH DISCIPLINE WILL IT TAKE BEFORE YOU LEARN, MORI KEIKO?

​

It would be so easy to add a fraction too much oil. She had miscalculated, or perhaps her hand had slipped, or perhaps as a teetotal fourteen-year-old, she did not realise whisky was so strong. An accident. She could not be blamed. And in the end, a headmaster dead of a drug overdose would serve their purposes just as well. A one-off incident of betel oil-fuelled rampage could be concealed, but the death of so prominent a personage? Why, the Mizukage would be forced to declare narcotics illegal, if only to prevent a reprise of the incident. From that perspective, she would only be optimising the plan.

IS THIS HOW YOU LIVE UP TO YOUR SISTER’S LEGACY, MORI KEIKO?

​

Justice. Vengeance. The protection of innocents. The good of the team. It was a sign that all these factors should align so well. An opportunity to do some genuine good, not in Hazō’s promised future but here and now, with an act with permanent, measurable effects.

“DO YOU THINK THERE IS ROOM AT MY ACADEMY FOR THOSE WHO REFUSE TO BELONG, MORI KEIKO?”

​

Her hand began to tip the flask…

(Timer ends.)

-o-

​

“Well,” Granny Karina smiled, “I’ve been looking forward to this all day. Shall we see how you strapping young lads acquit yourselves?”

The client lounged back on the bed suggestively, the light glinting off her gold tooth (which had the horrifying effect of accentuating her other teeth). Hazō and Noburi naturally sat as far back against the opposite wall as human flexibility could allow… but politely.

Where was Keiko? She should have been back by now. Had something gone wrong? Had she been caught? Hazō would give his right hand to be able to go out and look for her (and flee the client in the process), but knew that his arrival on the scene could only make things worse. And besides, part of their objective right now was to distract the client from Keiko’s absence. Admittedly, this wasn't difficult, since she generally showed no interest in Keiko apart from occasionally belittling her with uncanny precision, but she was also an evil, evil witch who might decide to do the least convenient thing on the spur of the moment.

Hazō prayed that Keiko was all right and would be back soon. Then they could invite her in here and stall with comparatively untraumatising conversation until it was too late for anything but sleep.

“You flatter us, Granny Karina,” Noburi said in a not-at-all choked voice. “But I was actually wondering about how today went,” he went on urgently. “Did you earn much money? Are you likely to need more stock?”

The client chuckled as her bony fingers rattled against the wood of the bed. “Low-hanging fruit. Delicious, juicy low-hanging fruit. Oh, we did well enough with the common apothecaries selling common goods, but that’s not the kind of income that’ll get us ahead of the game, hmm? I could spend the next four days trading in fever cures and bedroom salves, assuming there were enough buyers, and that wouldn’t be so bad for me. But boys like you should be a little more ambitious if you don’t want to lose the race to the fur and spice traders.”

“You mean you know who the other clients are?” Hazō leaned forward attentively.

“Oops,” the client smirked. “Naughty boys, trying to make Granny Karina spill her secrets. Though if you really want me to bare it all…”

For some reason, Hazō’s mind offered up the image of one of his scarier sealing failures, when through the rift that was not a rift he briefly glimpsed a creature with too few limbs and too many dimensions, and realised that he was probably still alive only because its senses were the wrong senses for the substances he was made of.

“So what you’re saying,” he said as soon as he recovered, “is that even if you restock your common goods, you won’t be able to sell them at enough of a profit to give us a good position in the event unless we also start dealing in the other kind.”

“Clever boy,” the client said approvingly. “Today was a good day for looking around the village and figuring out how you’re all going to keep me safe, but if we want to get anywhere, soon we’ll need to start talking to the interesting gentlemen with the long knives.”

“Do you have an end goal?” Hazō asked. “I mean, a set amount of money that you want to make before you retire or something like that?”

The client’s jaw dropped, and her eyes spun further away from each other than usual. “Me? Retire?! How rude! Just how old do you think I am, young man?”

Hazō and Noburi exchanged panicked looks to the effect of "Why would you even say something like that?" and "Shut up and help me find a way to get out of this!"

After several seconds of internal flailing, Hazō was shocked to hear the client cackle.

“Oh, you should have seen the looks on your faces, boys! That’ll teach you to imply things about a woman’s age. You’ll never get yourself girlfriends if you go around being so tactless, hmm? Then again, why would you want to, with such a welcoming specimen of womanhood right in front of you?”

The client stood up from the bed, moving steadily towards Hazō and Noburi, and coincidentally interposing herself between them and the door.

“You’ve been such good boys today. And good boys deserve a special reward…”

She stepped within touching range, leaned over…

There was a knock on the door.

“Hazō? Noburi? Can I speak with you for a moment?”

The fact that it would mean certain agonising death notwithstanding, Hazō could have kissed Keiko just then.

-o-​

“You’re sure you weren’t seen?” Hazō asked again.

“We were not,” Kei reaffirmed with a touch of irritation. “Panashe reverse-summoned me as soon as she saw the glow of light from outside. Thanks to her detailed observation of the patrol routes, we knew exactly how long to wait before it would be safe for me to re-emerge.”

Her neutral account withheld the shock of the moment, when Panashe reached out to clasp her on the shoulder, the pangolin’s other paw grabbing the lantern even as the glow of a guard’s approach became visible from outside. She could not describe the sensation of resolve shaken by the pull of interdimensional forces. She did not want to describe the horror of the subsequent revelation.

“What about the mission? Were you able to drug the alcohol stash before you got away?”

Kei remembered holding the whisky bottle in her left hand. The flask of betel oil raised in her right. Panashe’s sudden touch, merged with the impact of arrival on the Seventh Path. Surprise. A lack of balance. Pouring oil. She had just barely caught herself in time.

“Yes,” she said, feeling guilty, or relieved, or both, or neither. She did not know which, and it would no longer matter anyway.

“It went just as planned,” she added with imperfect honesty. “There was exactly enough oil for the volume and potency of alcohol, though I was forced to leave an empty flask. However, the smell of the oil is distinctive, and I am confident that an attentive medic-nin would recognise it.”

“Exactly enough?” Noburi gasped. “That much oil wouldn’t be safe even if he was drinking water!”

“I assume you didn’t actually use the rest,” Hazō said more calmly. “What happened to it?”

Kei gave a melancholy smile, thinking of a monster's punishment slowly soaking into the ground of another world. “It was out of my hands.”

-o-

​ You have gained 3 XP. Keiko has gained 2 FP.

​ -o-

​ This update ends when everyone goes to bed at night. Note that this means you have another chance to come up with a decent plan for how to spread the news of the prank, since the old one was significantly lacking.

​ -o-

​ What do you do?

Voting ends on Saturday 31st of March, 9 am New York Time.​