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Daichi's response was blunt, but not far from what Ushinawa had grown to expect from him. With a slight sigh, he would shake his head slightly, rolling his eyes before centering his attention back onto their commander. After reaching into a bag, she would reveal the image of the man that they had been sent to kill. It was an odd feeling, seeing a man with a clear history, and knowing that in a few minutes none of it would matter. Such was death, it seemed. Getting a good look at the man, Ushinawa would make sure to take note of his hair style, the color of his skin, but most noticeably the scar that seemed to take claim to his face. He would be an easy target to spot. After putting the photograph away, she would then lead their attention to the extraction point. Offering a curt nod, they would finally be prepared to begin. 

Watching her move away from the two of them, Matsumoto would be quick to follow. After a few effortless handseals, Akira would appear to disappear from their sight as though becoming one with the air around them. Ushinawa's eyes would widen upon seeing the technique, stopping in his tracks as he would witness her vanish before his eyes. 

'I'll have to have her teach me that...' He considered, already beginning to consider the possibilities that would be open to him with it.

Looking back at Daichi, he would offer a quick nod before moving his hands together to form a certain number of seals himself. Making his way towards the eastern side of the bar, he would lift the cape from his shoulders before raising his hand up the center of it. Unbuttoning it hastily, he would be quick to make sure that his eyes were focused on the possibility that there might be other exits for their target to exit. Noting the windows, doors, and fire escapes, he would move to a duck as he hastily trotted towards the eastern most window. The cape in hand, Ushinawa's next action appeared to be the most basic for the boy. Thrusting it around his head, only a small portion would remain for his left eye, while the remainder of the cloak would cover his crouched body to ensure that the rest of his miniature frame would not be spotted by any possible guard or passerby.

The scene inside was clearly visible, and from his position he would be able to see the west window as well. It would make non-verbal communication easy as well, assuming he could ensure his teammate could understand him, or even get in position on time...

-- kakuremino no jutsu (195/200) 

'Elite.'

It was a funny phrase, looking at the group of rag tag children which seemed to accumulate in the presence of the dusty man to their vanguard. He was of an average height, with abnormally long hair, and a plate of armor covering the parts which would keep him alive if under the assault of a deadly weapon. Nothing out of the ordinary. Within his possession he didn't appear to have anything particular around him aside from the aforementioned bells. The ring in which they produced was a bit obnoxious, and yet somehow enticing. The next thing would have likely been the most obvious. As Matsumoto remained stationary within the stands, he would be standing likely twenty meters from the Kazekage, and five from the three young men who had begun to huddle around each other to begin their planning. That was the issue- there were three of them together, one of them in the stands, and two bells. Two out of these four genin would be unable to acquire a bell if they all worked together.

Glancing up at the Kazekage, Ushinawa's eyes would narrow into a glare as he would begin to understand the task at hand. This wasn't a question of how the group could outwit the Kage, but themselves as well. It might have been safe to assume that the lot of them had figured it out on their own and would wait to betray each other, or neither of them had figured it out, leaving Ushinawa with a severe advantage, or perhaps some had and some hadn't, which would leave the competition less daunting, but still significant.

Among them was Daichi, who he could assume was too lazy to even notice the number of bells, let alone the implied trickery. He was unsure of the other two, however, but was almost positive he could count on Daichi to distract them at some point.

With a casual stride down the stairs of the stands, and into the arena, Matsumoto's eyes would scan the area casually before strafing the arena to move towards the back of the man who had announced himself as Mu-n. Covering the edge of the arena, he would keep his distance from both the group of boys and the man, ensuring a now ten meter distance from the Kage, while having moved an equal distance from the group of genin. During his trek, his hands had remained hidden- beneath his cape beginning to devise a plan of action for himself with the use of the varying contents of his satchels.

-- ____ (item(s) prepped)

-- mission 002. friendly intervention!

Removing the balaclava from his head, the assailant would reveal himself to be one of the many members of the Golden Bears club. While they did not sport their signature haori, their faces were evident. Hardened men, they carried themselves with little forgetfulness of what they were- killers. Wiping the blood from his blade against the all black outfit they sported, he would slip the knife into his position beneath the katana strapped to his waist. This would likely be the last thing he would remember before the seething pain of weighted metal crashed into the back of his skull, directly above his medula. It would have been a quick pain, at least, but nonetheless excruciating- not to mention what it would feel like if he ever woke up. Blood would spurt outward in a light spray directly in the eyes of his comrades, who would raise their hands to prevent it from entering their eyes. This action was short lived, of course, both of them turning instantly behind them to witness a figure, barely visible, standing above where their mark had been left to die.

"What the fuck!?" One of them would shout before instantly moving his hands to the tip of his blade's handle.

The other would reach into his shirt to remove a set of brass knuckles with knives protruding form the bottom of each. There was a lull of silence before the one with the katana would move forward in a rushing motion, traveling in a linear manner towards the small framed body. Of course, within the instant this would happen, he would soon find himself against he ground, screaming out in pain as his hands moved to care for whatever had impaled his feet. The last standing hadn't been able to see it either, leaving it to pure luck that his partner had went ahead with the assault before him. Straining his eyes to see, he could make out the scattered makibishi littering the ground in front of him, leaving him with a grim expression. Without the talent of a ninja, he was no doubt left at a disadvantage. 

"Tch!" He would exclaim.

It was evident that without the tools to either fight, or save his comrades, he would take foot and go. Fight or flight was an instinctual ultimatum, and it would appear that fighting was not in question. He would discover, all too soon, that the other option would prove to be just as fatal. The slink of the chain which had knocked the back of his friend's skull in would shoot past his feet in a rush. Skipping into the air he would avoid it taking claim to his knees, to which he considered himself quite fortunate for. However, once the weighted tip was out of sight, it would leave him otherwise impeded from escape. That is, until the faint glimmer of the opposite side of his assailant's Kusarigama would come flickering above him. The blade's sharpness was evident by the reflection of his own eyes, widened with horror, would stare back at him. Almost as if slow motion, he could see his final moments closing. As the blade came closer and closer, and he realized just how helpless he had been all along, there, however, seemed to be a slight moment of peace.

The kama would swing through his neck with a momentum that would only be rivaled by its speed. The man's head would fall from his head and hit the sand beneath him in a splatter which would congeal the sand surrounding him. Covering the entire area with both the blood emitting from his neck, and his disfigured torso, his body would fall into a slump just a few feet away from the head which seemed to stare back at the shadowy figure for a second or two before clearly losing any sign of life. 

The cause of the man's death, the kama, would quickly cease its assault, however. Finding its home within the figure's hand, the blood of the man would splatter backwards, cleaning the blade within the same stroke in which it had killed. Looking down at the man, it would appear that he had already passed away, the blade no doubt poisoned. It was a bit of a shame, but might be fortunate for whomever came across the bags still filled with cash. Of course, this was only a temporary fix to the problem, but as Matsumoto's chain would curl around his belt once more, he would offer the man a quick glimmer of compassion. His eyes having been left wide with the shock of his own death, the genin would lower himself over him. His hair draped to either side of the man as he came very close to his face- searching for any history that the man might have had during his life that had been left within the moments of his death.

He found none.

Moving his fingers over the man's two eyes, he would remove his glasses, fold them, and place them by his side. If he had to die like a dog in the streets, he would at least be found with some morsel of respect. 

-- mission complete. 

SPOILER: Click to show

{mission 002.}Friendly Intervention!
Rank: C
Description: A group of thugs have been terrorizing the village streets at night, making them no longer safe for those who walk during the midnight hour. They've been said to lurk near the market district so starting there is your best bet. Permission to use force is given, but do not underestimate them, they may not be shinobi but they will more than likely be armed. Bring them to justice.
Restrictions: None.
Rewards: 50 EXP and 1000 Ryo.

-- mission 002. friendly intervention!

The man's face seemed to change under the advice of the woman. She didn't appear to give him much of a mind, but was at least offering him the kind of advice that would help him stay alive under the possession of this amount of money. Straighting his posture, the man's sweaty hands would rub up and down the lapels of his dinner jacket. Clearing his throat, he would lean forward to claim presence within the interaction that had been created. Nodding at her, the two's eyes would meet one last time before she would shove a small tray in front of him- beneath the counter in which she had been working with. One-hundred thousand Ryo worth of chips would shuffle in front of him with a 'swoop.' 

"Thank you." He would say with a nod, straightening his glasses immediately afterwards.

"Have a nice night, sir." She would respond casually, motioning for the man behind him to step forward for a similar service.

What might have been an otherwise friendly night of gambling would eventually deteriorate as the night went on. The man, who clearly had no idea what was going on in the world around him, had found himself with a fortunate outcome by the end. Without much stopping him, his sum of one hundred thousand would accumulate to two hundred, then three, then four, and so on. By four in the morning, he had accumulated nearly five-hundred thousand ryo within the span of four hours. What might have otherwise been quite a haul was slightly different here. Forced into his hands, the chips would be transformed into bills by the same woman who had done the opposite just a few hours before. Of course, aside from the money gifted to the man at the end of each table, as would a number of beverages who's contents included copious amounts of alcohol.

Red faced, and overheated, the man would stumble to the door as his red companions would accompany him to the door with smiles and jeers. It was all quite friendly on the surface, but as the man's newfound friends would send him off into the heart of the slums, they would also be sending him into the pit of, well, bears. His loafers scuttled against the sand, kicking up all sorts of dust behind and around him. Grasping tightly to a number of bag stuffed to the brim with money, he would begin to hum himself a tune to celebrate his victory. Thoughts of his riches crossed his mind. The debts he was ready to pay off slipped into the back of his mind while thoughts of fancy women and a new apartment skipped to the front. Of course, that was before his hot, sweaty stomach felt the cooling caress of a knife's edge.

It was a bit of a shock for him. Without wanting to release his bags, he simply stood there for a moment, staring at the feet of his attacker. Could you blame him? Within his arms were tucked the answers to all of his troubles. The one-hundred thousand ryo he had borrowed from his savings were now five times as much. If he ever had children, their schooling would be paid for. If he ever had a wife, he could buy her a whatever she wanted- at least for a while. These bags were his dreams. However, everyone understands that not all dreams can come true. So as the knife was abruptly yanked from his belly, a trail of blood following across the sand at their feet, he would begin to lose faith and consciousness at the same time. Falling to his knees, the bags would scatter in a number of directions as the man at his front would watch him fall.

"Finders keepers." The husky voice of the attacker would say before kicking the man backwards with a frontal extension of his leg. Letting out a gasp, he would tuck in to himself to begin applying pressure to the wound that had already opened to expose an incredible amount of blood.

"Fat fuck never saw it coming," Another voice would say a few yards behind the attacker. The eruption of laughter would indicate that their number reached a maximum of three men as they began taking respective bags of their own. "Easiest haul we ever did." 

SPOILER: Click to show

{mission 002.}Friendly Intervention!
Rank: C
Description: A group of thugs have been terrorizing the village streets at night, making them no longer safe for those who walk during the midnight hour. They've been said to lurk near the market district so starting there is your best bet. Permission to use force is given, but do not underestimate them, they may not be shinobi but they will more than likely be armed. Bring them to justice.
Restrictions: None.
Rewards: 50 EXP and 1000 Ryo.

The heat had gotten to an obnoxious degree by the time Matsumoto arrived outside of the Kage castle. Having situated himself at a bench beneath an awning looking directly at the rendezvous point, he would sit beneath the shade with a small metallic packet of what appeared to be a common brand of tea. Set apart from his previous order, this variety appeared to be some strand of black, instead of green. The wind had not picked up much today, which was a relief. The stagnant stare of the sun might have been intense, but at least it would prevent the constant threat of blindness that seemed to be associated with the village. Having removed his cape, he set it beside him as he awaited the arrival of his teammate.

Both hands grasped the packet with a gentle grip. The fluid, cold and caffeinated, seeped through the dull yellow straw which was trapped between his soft pale lips. His thought seemed be under the stress of wandering. As he stared down at the feet of those who would make their way past him, he seemed to have only considered what the debriefing of the mission would entail. Of course, having to inform the residents of the eastern side of the village of the eventual relocation of their park would be an obnoxious task, but necessary. The mission they had been assigned was just vague enough to foreshadow its importance, without letting them know what the outcome would actually be. What was the point, and who exactly was this Kazekage who had assigned it?

Covered in a loose black t shirt, Ushinawa's gender would likely remain a mystery to Daichi upon his arrival. However moreso, he would witness the extent of the genin's slender frame. His arms, covered in faded scars would likely be evidence to the number of conflicts he had seen. Thoughts of his childhood remained evident, but not much of a conversation piece. He was unafraid of exposing his experience through tissue damage, but when the subject was brought up, it would last as long as any other casual conversation. One can not change one's past- but they can change the way that they view it. What had been years of horrific, blood filled war, would now be nothing more than an interesting coffee table discussion.

After all, he was just a child drinking tea out of a juice bag at the moment.

It was a bit disturbing to see these warriors respond to their leader in such an honorific manner. He was their leader, their commander, not their master. While Ushinawa wouldn't be the one to say it, denoting themselves in such a way lowered them to nothing more than weaponized slaves. Perhaps that was the method that Sunagakure raised its offspring. Complete loyalty seemed to be written walls of this village, but it seemed as though these children had taken the sentiment a bit more seriously.

Matsumoto's cape would ruffle under the speed of his gait. Despite being the shortest of the lot by far (what were they feeding Genin these days?), he would enter the arena with an understated presence. An embodiment of black, his hair, clothing, and posture would ooze through the air as though a sliver of smoke passing under their noses. The sound of his steps were minimal, and being as small as he was, it should have been of no surprise that he would slip under their radar within the instant. With his arms, neck, and torso hidden beneath the silhouette of his clothing, he would appear as the specter he was. No words would move his lips to announce his presence, only the clear and steady focus on the man who so leisurely awaited their arrival. 

Having arrived late, he would remain from a position within the stands. Hopefully capable of being able to make out the words which would be exchanged between the men who had entered the arena, he would prepare himself for whatever orders this Kouketsu person would issue. After all, as one of the most recent members of the village, he still had a lot to prove to his fellow ninja-- but mostly to his Kage.

-- mission 002. friendly intervention!

The door to the building creaked open with the announcement of a new presence. While the gambling den wasn't the most difficult to find, there was still an element of secrecy that the local Yakuza had attempted to convey over their somewhat irreparable behavior. A number of old eyes would turn to lay a glance across the man who entered. He was of a decent age, late twenties to early thirties, and had a small bag beneath his arm. Partially unzipped, and clearly filled to the brim, it was evident that he had gathered a sum of Ryo for the pure purpose of trading it for chips. There was no mistaking it- this man was a desperate gambler. Of course, in a place like this, it was like prime rib in a lion's den. 

The stares were more expressive of desire than danger, and as the men would pretend to get back to their varying games, it was evident that this man had become quite popular within the few moments since his arrival. Various men of varying degrees of scumminess approached him, introducing themselves before offering him drinks and attempting to guide them to their tables. Polite declines would seem to be the most common response as the man hastily made his way to the back of the room. It was spacious, and had varying designs of tigers, ogres, dragons, and other things that would have no mistake as masculine. Loosening his tie, the man would plop his leather bag against the counter which separated him from a small woman with a tired expression on her face. They peered at each other through sturdy steel bars, followed by the spectacles which fit perfectly over the brim of his nose. Their eyes seemed to lock for just long enough to make him uncomfortable before he would shove the money closer towards the gate and look back towards the scores of men who covered the room.

The number of participants was likely somewhere in the the thirties. More than half of them were patrons of the establishment, while a small number were participants of whatever organization ensured that this activity continued behind closed doors. They ranged in size and age, but it was clear who were official members by the unique hairstyles and, likely more evident, the bright red haori which would have the kanji for 'bear' written in gold across the back. The woman behind the counter donned such an outfit. 

The man turned back to look at her, removing a handkerchief from his suit jacket to wipe away the beads of sweat that had begun to make movements down his face. His eyes darted back and forth, and while the heat was likely uncomfortable for him, it appeared that his nerve had begun to betray him. The woman could tell despite their lack of words exchanged.

"You should relax while you're in here," She began, her eyes falling back to the counting of the money he had given her. "They can sniff out suckers based on how nervous they are." She finished definitively. 

SPOILER: Click to show

{mission 002.}Friendly Intervention!
Rank: C
Description: A group of thugs have been terrorizing the village streets at night, making them no longer safe for those who walk during the midnight hour. They've been said to lurk near the market district so starting there is your best bet. Permission to use force is given, but do not underestimate them, they may not be shinobi but they will more than likely be armed. Bring them to justi
Restrictions: None.
Rewards: 50 EXP and 1000 Ryo.