Ni used to be a nice little town. The reddish dirt below gave off a radiance difficult to reproduce elsewhere. Akimoto had been there numerous times before during the beginning of his time as a Master. The buildings were tall as if to show off as much of the dirt as much as possible. Many of the buildings were crafted with a solution combined with the dirt itself. Gardens were not a popular project on which to work, for covering up the soil would act against the showing off of the land’s natural beauty. Ironically, this gave the town an arid look for Beruga’s grass could not grow in the iron-rich soil well enough. Children were often a mahogany color after playing outside for extended periods of time. 

Akimoto’s hair matched the shade of the dirt this time of year. Being the middle of autumn, the temperature was decreasing quite quickly, but there were still warm days. This was not one of those days, however. Akimoto’s body did not steam but the immediate area around him was quite warmer than the air itself. His vest and trousers did little to cover up from the chill and it was clear to any with any kind of common sense that he was Firus. Fortunately, the white and red trimmed clothing told others of his affiliation with the Conclave of Elders and he was relatively left alone other than the stares he received.

He was not unused to such stares. In fact, he was used to be tracked, but too much time had passed for there to be any care of such a reality. But now with the Kyoujin acting so aggressively, he had to keep aware of his surroundings. Though the town wasn’t busy it was difficult to keep track of the movements around him and the voices throughout the streets. 

The tavern he entered was rabble-some but not terribly loud. He sat at the bar with wide legs and his large upper body leaning against the wood of the countertop. “What’ll ya ‘ave?” an older and dirtied woman asked the Firus, unaffected by his inherent affiliation with a currently enemy region. “I was actually wondering if you’ve seen…” he began in his hearty yet soft voice. 

“Ay!” someone shouted. “Don’t serve ‘im! He’s Kazan scum!” A clearly inebriated and scrawny man wobbled from his chair. “Shuh-up, Kiki! Si’ cher ass down!” the woman shouted, almost in Akimoto’s face. 

His friends pulled him down, knowing the man’s affiliation with the Elders and not wishing to make a scene. Though some Berugans held a sort of grudge against Kazan, most of the citizens of Beruga, at least, cared little for the conflict. Perhaps most of them saved their opinions for the sake of face. They knew they couldn’t afford blockades from Hisan and Hayate. Neutrality within a war, however feigned, was the best for the people of Beruga at this time. 

The woman didn’t apologize and didn’t look at Akimoto as he finished his question. “Have you seen or heard of any Kyoujin in the area?” She looked at him. Sneered at him and then scoffed. “Nah, chicky. Ain’t none of ‘em ‘ave shown they face ‘round ‘ere. Theyn’t dare.” It sounded as if she was the intimidator of the town and Akimoto found it a touch humorous.

Akimoto nodded and rose from his seat to walk out of the tavern. Eyes followed him as he left but his own remained forward.

He was told by the Master’s Council to not be obvious about their affiliation with the Council and to not make one’s search obvious in seeking out the Kyoujin. Akimoto, though the youngest by 15 years on the Council, cared little about keeping his identity a secret and being covert in his search. As stealthy as he might have attempted to be, he still would have been tracked. In fact, though he mentioned nothing of it, he knew they had a chance to ambush the Council. Akimoto thought it strange they didn’t. 

The inebriated man stuck out his leg as if to trip Akimoto, but his own bare foot slammed into the man’s shin, no doubt causing a bruise and soreness. Fortunately for the man, he wouldn’t feel it until he was sober. Unfortunately, he was so drunk that he was almost thrown from his chair. The men with him sort of sneered at Akimoto as they helped their friend up. Akimoto ignored the entire accident as he cared little for disrespect and believed the man deserved to be embarrassed, though probably too drunk to feel such a thing.

Hopefully his little scene would bring out a smaller Kyoujin agent and he could interrogate them. Indeed it did and he saw a short cloaked figure down the street apparently staring in his direction. Akimoto paced quickly toward him. He knew children were being recruited into the terrorist faction and that they were the easiest to manipulate.

The image of the figure was blocked by a passing cart. When the cart passed, the figure was gone and Akimoto burst himself into the air with cooler red flames. Those that weren’t looking up were suspect and he quickly spotted the black figure racing though alleys to the outskirts of the town. Akimoto dove down and crashed into a pile of crates before leaping into a swift sprint towards his target. The panting made it sound like a woman instead of a boy. His guard immediately went up, and almost too late for the whistling of senbon was close. He ducked and rolled into a jump, dodging more senbon which stuck into the reddish earth of Ni. 

She spun around, her cloak masking her exact movements quite well, and swung a shuriken toward him. He blocked it with his forearm, immediately ripping it out and throwing it back at her left thigh. It hit since she was turned back around and never suspected him to perform such a tactic. Immediately after a sai impaled her right thigh and she spun for a last time to project a wave of senbon scattered in such a way that would be difficult to dodge. 

He bolted up into the air again, a senbon piercing his calf. She fell to the ground and he next to her. She kept her face hidden as she panted heavily and squeezed her things at the pain of the injuries. Akimoto ripped out the senbon and removed his vest, tearing it up so he could wrap his forearm and calf. She whimpered weakly and he wondered her age. Akimoto turned her to her stomach, not caring about her face, and pulled out the shuriken and sai, which he sheathed after wiping it across his own thigh. He took shreds from his vest and wrapped both her thighs and then turned her back around. 

She continued to moan in pain and ignored Akimoto’s questions. “Who are you? For whom do you work? What was your mission?”

Her light sobbing soon sounded like light laughter. His eyes darted to the left and he heard the landing of feet from above onto the ground around him. Four men with various weapons and clearly different fighting styles threatened to capture him. “Shit,” he whispered and took up his bo as he flung a sai at the chest of the man with two broad swords. The next sai went to the man with the kusarigama. Broad went down fast but Kusari caught the knife and threw it back while Knuckles, with brass knuckles, and Spear leapt toward him. 

Akimoto spun, attempting to catch the sai but could only knock it down at the woman, stabbing her in the throat. His bo swung wide, slapping the spear aside and blocking Knuckles, who threatened to snap it in his hands. Akimoto had to spin with the momentum and smack Knuckles in the back of the head before sweeping Spear’s feet. Unable to keep track of the third opponent, the chain wrapped around him tightly and the sickle sank into his shoulder. 

“Now, let’s have a little chat, yeah?” Kusari asked with a wry grin. Spear rose and stuck Akimoto’s back, drawing some blood with the point. By this point, Knuckles was getting back up.

He didn’t flinch at either of the new wounds in spite of his prior injuries. Akimoto only scoffed at the man. “What?” he spat.