#sinners-inc

-DoYoung

"It isn't a kekkei genkai nor is it our clothes. It is our insects." Shino casually informs. To him, telling a stranger that he's filled with insects isn't weird at all - it earned him strange looks many times. Understandably.

Suigetsu ducked into his shoulders, palms held out defensively, as if that would do anything to temper the anger of the supposedly dead man before him. "Look, man, I took great care of 'er. She's practically in mint condition! Imagine if we woulda' left it out sticking outta' the ground like it was originally! Woulda' rusted and fell apart in the dirt. We can both agree it's too nice'a sword to waste."

Didn't seem like his words were going through, so the words continued to vomit out of his mouth, justifying every which way he wasn't in the wrong for taking possession of the prized Kubikiribochou.

"Some shitty lord got their hands on it, anyways— I'm just honorin' the Seven Swordsman name when I took it back."

"You--"

The words couldn't even quite form as he stared rather wide-eyed at his old adversary, shocked by his appearance as he stood in the dim firelight. The night could easily swallow him whole and convince Kakashi that once again, his mind had been playing tricks on him, but Zabuza remained, his presence and chakra a pressing force that couldn't be dismissed.

"I'll admit, I'm impressed with your survivability. How did you manage it this time?"

Zabuza was a remarkably talented shinobi, ruthless as he was, and had earned Kakashi's respect despite their troublesome clashes. He was at the ready now, just in case this visit was one of vengeful intention. He had, after all, been the reason Haku had met a tragic end.

Beer froth on black boots. Blood, too. Plenty of that. The dubiously moody lighting of the cash bar made it look as dark as oil. Fat drops of it smushed by leather-clad knuckles into a drink napkin; while the altercation had not been started by this klokateer, three succinct blows had ended it, and ended it lethally.

Something about the visible polarizing lifestyle of the klokateers attracted the adrenaline junkies. Those smart-mouth types who need to prove their worth by antagonizing their unfeeling masks. 547 likens it to the phenomenon of attempts at invoking a reaction out of Buckingham Palace's iconic, stoic guards. But unlike the garish toy soldiers, 547 responded to provocation with a few raspy words. "Step away. I'm licensed to kill." The warning was intended to deter the drunk-reddened man, but it had the opposite effect, it encouraged violent disorder. Ultimately, though neither of them knew it then, it was a foretelling of his death.

"Remind me not to anger you big guy - you klok boys mean business!" @sinners-inc's says.

"When business is required." There is pride creeping into the response. The napkin, soiled with red, bounces atop the half full trash bin beside them. "Let's move this way while they clean that up." A supple leather is extended to Do, palm upright to help stride over the bludgeoned body if taken - taking into account her footwear choice.

Hearing the doorbell ring at his apartment, he considered ignoring it as usual. At most, it was a mistake, or some annoying neighbor. In the end, he gave up when the insistence of the other person on the other side of the door started to bother his ears.

When he went to answer, he was ready to curse and throw out that sudden annoyance in his life. But when he realized who it was, he frowned but didn't yell or anything.

"I expected anyone but you. Back in Japan, huh?" He took a swig from his silver bottle of whiskey.

The flat of Samehada’s wrapped bulk thudded against Kisame’s shoulder as he slung her over it, despite her taxing weight. Across from him, Nuibari flashed in Hōzuki Mangetsu's hand with a strike that split the mist itself, slicing through it like a blanket of smoke. They stood ankle-deep in the shallows at the edge of the training grounds. The air smelled like brine and wet iron.

Mangetsu was a masterclass. Nuibari was the fourth sword he had taken to perfecting use over. Even Samehada let him wield her, a rarity.

"Your grip is too tight," Kisame interrupted Mangetsu's focus. "You'll blister your palms if you keep stranglin' it like that."

Mangetsu's lip quirked, exhibiting a canine. "It's so light. I keep feelin' like I'm gonna drop it." Yet, Mangetsu adjusted without complaint, loosening his hold. He had always been quick to listen and correct himself. It was one of the reasons Kisame liked him. Well, liked him better than his brother. Oof, Suigetsu was... spirited.

A few slashes later, Mangetsu paused in thought as he fixed his grip again. "Ya hear Zabuza took on a student?"

Kisame blinked, the nacturing membrane swiping over his eyes. "Did he?" Mangetsu nodded once, and Kisame sighed through his nose. "Mr. I-Solve-My-Problems-By-Cuttin'-'Em-In-Half?" Mangetsu's lips twitched, trying not to smile or laugh.

Kisame shifted Samehada's weight with a shrug. "Maybe it's for the best. Ain't many of us left." All thanks to Fuguki, the traitorous, old parrotfish bastard. Because of him, the title of Seven Swordsmen was more like a memory.

"It's a woman, too," Now that caught Kisame's attention.

He had nothing against women. In fact, in a lot of ningyo clans, women were larger and stronger than their male members. However, in all the long, brutal history of the Seven Swordsmen, there had never been a female member. Why? He didn't know. Best he could reckon was no woman was dumb enough to join.

He jabbed Samehada into the wet sand as he leaned against her. "Welp. That's new," He'd try not to pass judgment until he met her. But he was questioning her sanity to join a dying group of swordsmen. Nonetheless letting Zabuza teach her. "What's her name?"

Mangetsu stopped again to think. "Uhhh... I don't know. Jangnim. Surname is Jangnim. I think they got wiped."

He tries not to let his surprise show. "I'm not."

Not exactly. He's doing a routine patrol to check on citizens' claims that a suspicious figure had been seen lurking around in the area, along this route commonly used by merchants. ... It would be a coincidence if this is the same person the woman is hunting. Gai hesitates, thinking. That's if the woman is being honest; he shouldn't divulge too much.

He can do a few things, though:

Shouto wasn't sure what to make of whatever was going on in front of him. He had noticed this "Do" person hang around his old man more and more lately, but he had been too busy with school and internships to bother asking about the nature of their relationship. He wasn't stupid. He knew something was going on.

Though, given how busy he and his dad were, he figured that if his old man wanted to tell him something, he would. So, when he was called to the previous estate, he came without much fuss.

He stood in front of them with a neutral expression on his face. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"