"What business do you have in Nezumi?" The gatekeeper barked, peering closely through an eye-level slit in the massive wooden doors. His face was hidden by the opening's small size, leaving only a set of beady brown eyes staring at Hisao, and beyond his shoulder, the rest of the escapees.

[color=seagreen]"As a matter of fact, that's what brings us to Nezumi village. Business!"[/color] Hisao responded, leaning on the door as if he were talking to an old friend. To the trained ear, it was easy to tell Hisao was lying. Namely, he was politer than ever, and his tone seemed to be one of him kindly reminding the man rather than explaining to him.

[color=seagreen]"Can you see behind me, boss?"[/color] Hisao inquired, as the pair of eyes peering out nodded up and down.[color=seagreen]"We're one half of the Ika-Inkei Kabuki Theatre. Y'see, we got separated from our convoy a few miles back and we hiked all this way so that we might rest a while before finding our companions.[/color]

"What's that got to do with business?"

Hisao paused, gritting his teeth for a split second. [color=seagreen]"I told you that, boss. We were gonna raise some money for our travels performing for the Tarabagani."[/color]

There was a long pause, as Hisao silently furrowed his brow, wondering if the guard bought his story.

"I hate kabuki, I hate your stinking, Burakumin drawl, and I hate liars. Get lost." The slit slammed shut. Hisao sighed, banging his head on the door in frustration as the others groaned behind him.

[color=seagreen]"I've got cash too!"[/color]

There was another long pause, with only a distant cicada daring to break the silence. Hisao turned back, grinning and giving the group a silent thumbs-up, turning back when he heard the slot open to meet the guard's eyes to discuss their bribe. Instead, he turned to meet the mouthful of spit launched through the slot in the door, before having it slam shut again. He heard laughter from behind the wall, and from behind himself. He wiped his face with his filthy hand, turning back to the rest of his companions as coolly as possible in the hopes of regaining his lost pride.

[color=seagreen]"Alright, new plan. There's a creek that flows through and out of Nezumi about a half-mile down the wall this way. They use it to get rid of bodies, mostly."[/color] He pointed to the left, and began slowly lumbering in that direction. [color=seagreen]"It's a pain in the ass, but we should be able to get in through that entrance for free. Plus, we'll skip dealing with the yakuzai and head straight to the seedy hotel district."[/color] Hisao trudged onwards, dropping down to his knuckles and returning to his lazy, apelike gait.

[color=seagreen]"Trust me. It won't be difficult."[/color]

[hr]
[color=seagreen]"That was more difficult than I remembered."[/color] Hisao said, panting. The spot he had recalled was where it always had been, though since he had last visited a metal grate had been installed. The group voted that since it was Hisao who angered the guard, it would be Hisao who would kick an opening in the grate while the others rested. They were all now [i]wet[/i], in addition to being tired, sore, and filthy, though having a sore toe was uniquely Hisao's. They were now on the outskirts of Nezumi village's poorer residential district -- The walkways used by the group were made of driftwood, and every few hundred feet a different chicken could be seen pecking impatiently at the dirt. The group's de facto guide looked around each corner as they passed the street, trying to place himself. Quickly, it became clear that Hisao was either lost or the inn he had been searching for had been shut down -- There was not an inn in site, and the cracked, tan walls of the shacks and huts seemed to line the narrow streets endlessly.

[color=seagreen]"Perhaps there's a sake house somewhere we can find directions in?"[/color]