"Thank you, Umeji!" Hisako Yuki said, a grateful grin stretching her cheeks as she backpedaled away from the Funato clan compound and the single guard on duty tonight, "I'll be back before your shift change, just as usual!"
"Alright now, stay safe Hisako-chan!" the guard waved, staff leaned against the wall as he hurriedly stuffed his pocket with wads of cash.
Hisako quickened her step, Umeji was only the official guard at post but there were more than a couple nosy folk itching for something to talk about. Not to mention, she felt like she was being watched more and more the past couple of weeks.
She fastened her backpack of money across her chest and as soon as she stepped into Central District proper she leapt onto the rooftops, leaving the Funato clan compound and its domain behind.
It was another cold night in Kirigakure, the streets were still populated with open vendors and strolling customers. Hisako hopped off a streetlight and onto the next, pausing briefly at the sight of a mother and child— a stubborn child.
He wailed and made a scene, tossing and turning all across the wet ground in front of a painted mask vendor. His mother stood her ground, refusing even the vendor's generous offer to let the child keep the mask. Instead she pulled him up by his ankles and dragged him along.
Hisako couldn't help but snort as the boy hoisted himself upright, wiping away the crocodile tears his mother saw through so easily to regain some slice of dignity as he pulled up his sliding trousers.
Shizu was so much like her. Hisako thought, watching the woman tap her feet as she waited for her unruly son to gather himself.
She leaped away, not another minute could be wasted now. Shizu's legacy was hers since the day the Fourth Mizukage ordered her death, the good work her mentor was doing for this village, no, for its victims, it had to continue.
And it did. Sure, a downtime of two, almost three months had lost her the faith of many of the people Shizu had built relations with but the idea was never lost. The Mizukage thinks he can smother us but he barely realizes how much we've accomplished already.
The Yūki clan might be no more, locked away within Yagura's Estate like monsters of a crime greater than what even his own clan was accomplice to, but the vision the Yūki had for themselves and others like them wouldn't be so easily trapped.
Hisako fell back amongst the crowd a couple blocks away from her destination. The Central District faded into the Caste district in a manner that couldn't be missed. Gone were the strolling couples, late running mothers and working fathers. Vendors, generous or otherwise couldn't be found selling a thing in the darkening spots of the streets, the forgotten, ill maintained lamps flickered as the silence of the night and its mist bore on Hisako as she walked the narrowing path.
Though the crowds had thinned out and it was dark, Hisako knew she wasn't alone. Against the broken lamps and in the tucked alleys between homes and abandoned dreams were a multitude of hooded men, muttering and dealing. A scantily dressed young woman hurried past Hisako, a man drowned in the stench of gin and sake giggled along with her.
Hisako calmed her hitched breathing and cast away anxieties as best she could. It was just another night in the Caste districts, trash might pile up here and there— literal and figurative— but very few of those living here were ignorant to what a shinobi looked like. And judging from the lack of lustful stares or catcalls, these men recognized her power even in civilian clothes. She was safe.
She kept on the path and wound around with it as she close in on one of the few dignified places in the Caste District— the clan compounds. It was humble, nothing as wild and evidently wealthy as a street decorated with rare flora like the Funato had but the street lights were working, there weren't any dealers and though there were a couple of escorts, they were dressed pretty enough an ignorant eye would mistake them for a madam or even an upholding member of society.
As Hisako walked through the narrow street—its walls decorated with the Poison Mist Clan's insignia, a deep purple cherry blossom—she made sure she hadn't been followed. With a practiced leap, she landed softly on the rooftops, scanning the pitch-black neighborhood for miscreants or nosy busybodies. Satisfied that no one lurked in the shadows, she dropped down again and hurried toward the base she'd inherited from her mentor.
The warehouse was decrepit, flanked by three others just as forgotten. Years ago, the Poison Mist had invested in a canned fishery business here—one that failed miserably. Her mentor had always suspected the Hoshigaki had sabotaged it. All that remained now was unpaid debt, tons of rotting canned fish no one would buy except the Hoshigaki, and these warehouses.
She heard the voices before she entered through a barely-hinged side door. The air inside was thick, stale. Most of the furniture, machinery, and old boxes were buried beneath dusty tarps. The windows were all shut. A single red bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting a dull glow—just enough to make out faces, not enough to see truths.
About twenty people had gathered this time. They carried luggage, money, and expressions soured by desperation. She'd only come with more bad news.
They rushed her as soon as they saw her, eyes pleading, hands pushing wads of crumpled ryo into hers—what little remained of their lives. Desperate for the chance they'd missed last week… and the week before that.
"Please, Lady Hisako, my family—"
"I have to leave before they find me—"
"My children can't take this abuse anymore, please, Hisako-sama—there must be a way!"
Hisako's mouth parted, but no words came out. Not for the first time.
A father stood at the front of the crowd, flanked by two young girls. Hisako couldn't guess their clan; they were from the lowest rungs of Kirigakure's caste system. But she didn't need a name. The bruises on their cheeks, the calluses on their tiny hands, and the bleeding whip marks beneath their torn bandages said everything she needed to know about what they were worth to the people they served.
She bit the inside of her cheek. There was nothing she could do. She shook her head slowly, her gaze rising to meet the crowd.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't open the path. Not now. There are too many eyes watching."
"There aren't any eyes here!" one man pleaded. "Please, just take the money and let us go!"
She closed her eyes for a beat, then looked at him again, firm. "I can't take that risk. This is bigger than any one of us. If we're found out, we'll all be executed—and the path will be shut for good. No one will ever escape Kirigakure again. Please. Understand."
They murmured, cursed, and wailed. Not all of the people here were shinobi or even directly related shinobi, but most certainly were connected to the caste clans. The caste clans were fearfully loyal to the village and that loyalty was tested through missions, job scarcity and of course, tax. Those with the least were always asked to give the most—punished still for the sins of ancestors long dead.
Hisako felt their pain as if it were her own. On paper, she had ten times their privilege, born to the Yuki clan. But even the Yuki, a founding family of the village, suffered persecution for their Kekkei Genkai. Before she'd met her mentor, Hisako had felt lucky—blessed even—that her bloodline limit had never awakened. It meant she could live a normal, maybe even wealthy, life.
But it made little difference. Names often held more power than those with actual power, a poor fact of reality she'd come to learn a tad late. Now, Hisako regretted not challenging everything she could to make her Kekkei Genkai blossom and she hated her clan, hated Hidaki Yuki for encouraging the clan to suppress their blessings.
It made her sick, just like being useless to these people did.
"Then… when can we expect to leave?" a woman asked, rocking a sleeping toddler on her back. Her face was drawn, hollowed by exhaustion far beyond sleep.
Hisako searched for the words, swallowing the lump in her throat as the crowd looked to her with tired hope, "The Yūki clan is…" Her voice cracked. She clenched her fist. "It is…I'm sorry, just come back next week and maybe the week after that. I can't let this final resource be exposed to the Mizukage, I'm sorry."
They understood. Or at least they didn't argue. One by one, they gathered their things and trickled out, leaving behind their hopes like dust on the floor. Only three people remained. They hadn't spoken since she arrived, but they watched her closely.
All three were adults, much older than her. The youngest couldn't have been under twenty, and even he was wrinkled with stress, his expression hollowed. They wore sagging civilian clothes—nondescript, except for the bulges beneath that marked hidden weapons.
Hisako hissed under her breath. No one but her was supposed to be armed yet every time they met, they came carrying steel.
She didn't care that their Lightning Release would likely counter her Water, it was more the question of respect, trust and courtesy— they didn't even bother hiding the fact they brought weapons.
She took off her backpack and tossed it at them. They let it fall at their feet, staring all the while. The two older men subtly urged the younger one to pick it up, he did with a sigh and opened the bag to confirm the money was indeed present. He nodded at his companions but the oldest, Kuzo, had already taken a step forward, his arms folded and a deadpan look on his face as he spoke.
"How much longer?" his voice came in a deep rumble.
Hisako shifted her weight and eyed the man, "I don't know, what I said to them was the truth and if you really want things to go faster I'd suggest you refrain from making stupid moves."
"Those were our orders and you have new ones if you still want to join us, Hisako."
"What? New orders? No, no, no. I've done everything you've asked of me and I've helped even more than I should. I've sent several caste clan members to you-"
"That was before we got new orders, before you got new orders. And most importantly, before the heat cranked up. If you truly believe we can't afford to move right now then there's no other choice than to stack up our value while we can. We want more."
More…more Bloodlines, more power. Hisako made a fist. His eyes fell to them and a sliver of a smirk appeared on his otherwise straight lips, daring her to defy. She wouldn't, not because she couldn't but because she didn't want to. A lesser evil.
"What is it now? I've already told you, I'm the only Yuki you can have, the others..the surveillance on them is too intense, I'm not even allowed to speak with them."
"Kaguya." Kuzo said proudly, "Bring us one with an activated Bloodline."
Hisako's eyes bulged as she yelled, "What! Are you insane? How do you expect me to-"
"If you can't do it then we'll do it ourselves. This was always part of our mission." He said, starting to turn away.
"Wait! I thought you said this was new I-! I said wait!" He paused, he and his companions sending indecipherable, level gazes at her. Hisako gulped, "How…at least tell me how you think I can do it better than you can? The Kaguya are in the same Estate my clansmen are in, I'm not allowed in there."
Kuzo shrugged, "Find a way, you found us, you found those people. We trust your abilities."
Before Hisako could say another word, a smoke bomb detonated with a sharp pop, clouding the warehouse in thick grey haze. She coughed, stumbling back and waving the smoke from her face as she cursed the trio of spies under her breath.
"Fuck! How do you expect…a Kaguya?"
Panic surged up her spine. Her thoughts raced with confusion and doubt as she paced the now-empty warehouse. She hyperventilated, running through every scenario, every excuse—each one falling apart before she could finish forming it. If her story wasn't airtight, if even a detail slipped, she wouldn't make it past the gates.
Not to mention— "Are there any Kaguya that hate this village?" Hisako mused, grasping at straws. But she doubted it. The Kaguya clan had lived inside the Yondaime's Estate since the day they arrived, tucked away from public view. Their brief controversy had died quicker than a fashion trend. Most in the village already acted like they'd always been there.
Grinding her teeth, Hisako kicked a nearby box. It skidded across the concrete and slammed into another. She let out a frustrated scream, pulling at her hair as she tried to calm herself, to think—really think.
She wasn't supposed to be stuck here another two weeks. Not with the Funato clan watching her every move, their stares as cold and empty as the sea. Umeji might've been a diamond in their brackish filth, but even he needed to be bought—and she was fresh out of coin. Without her trafficking routes or any missions above D-rank, she was back where she started.
Poor. Powerless. Trapped.
How am I going to—?!
A shift in the wind. Barely perceptible, but enough to make the hairs on her neck rise. And then she felt it. The weight of eyes. Dozens of them!
"Who goes there!" She yelled, pushing chakra into her feet, whoever it was, she couldn't afford to be seen here.
She dashed for the exit, the halfway broken door barely hanging onto its hinges. Shadows flickered—three of them—just beyond her periphery. She gasped and glanced upward, but the rafters above were empty.
Keep running!
She didn't make it far before a gust of wind hit her like a hammer and blew the entire metal door off its hinges. It soared, missing her head by inches and clanging off the ground with a screech of tortured metal.
She skidded low, barely avoiding decapitation. Her heart slammed in her chest. That would've taken my head off...
"Hisako Yuki…" a familiar voice rang out, cruel and smooth as oil. "Or should I say… Yūki."
No! Not you!
Shadows bloomed across the walls and ceiling, moving fast, never still—until he stepped in. The man. The demon.
Hisako turned slowly, her knees stiff with dread.
A figure in a demon mask strolled into the warehouse, the dim red bulb above gleaming off his porcelain-white faceplate. "You've been a naughty girl all over again, haven't you?"
Her throat closed up. "Eiko… How…?"
He raised a finger and waved it mockingly, cutting her off like she was a misbehaving child. Behind her, the shadowy figures that accompanied him descended behind her, seizing her arms behind her back. She didn't bother fighting back.
Eiko's mask tilted slightly. Amused. "The Mizukage would like to hear from you."