Naruto: The Outsider's Resolve: CH_225

In the base, Anko weaved through hand seals for the Summoning Jutsu and slapped her palm on the ground, which spurred the jutsu formula(shiki) that used her blood as a component. As the haze of smoke cleared, the twisting form of a snake became clear.

Both Gaku and Kameko were standing behind sheet metal tables and looked combat alert when they saw the thick forest-green snake despite being aware that Mara was Anko’s summon. Takuma stood beside Anko; he was ready to spring into action like the other two.

“You guys are being rude; Mara is a friend. She won’t harm you,” said Anko. She was disappointed seeing them acting like they were.

“I wouldn’t take her word for it,” said Mara, his yellow-slitted eyes scanning the three. “A snake’s got to eat, after all.”

Gaku had crossed his arms as he kept his eyes on Mara. Kameko full-on had her hand on her sword.

“Mara, stop it!” Anko raised her voice, but the shallow smile on her face told another story.

Mara looked up at Takuma, who was staring down at him. He uncoiled and raised his body until her head was at Takuma’s chest. The distance between them wasn’t more than a few feet, practically nothing for a snake of Mara’s enhanced physique.

“You look easy to swallow,” said Mara.

“And you have so many bones that could break,” Takuma said back.

Mara moved his head closer to Takuma, who didn’t move much less flinch. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment. Anko, standing beside Takuma, shook her head; she was used to Mara’s antics when meeting new strangers.

“I like him,” Mara said to Anko after backing away.

“Do you have the posters?” asked Anko.

“I have a scroll, but I don’t know what’s inside,” said Mara. He opened his mouth and spat out a scroll tube right toward Anko, who was forced to catch it with her bare hands and got snake saliva all over them.

Anko groaned in disgust at the long strands of saliva as she pulled her fingers off of the tube. She glanced up at Mara with a fed-up sigh as she opened the tube and dumped the scroll in Takuma’s hands. Unexpectedly, a loose rolled-up paper fell out along with the scroll.

“What is it?” asked Anko, holding her dirty hands before her.

“Looks like a letter,” said Takuma, reading the paper.

“I’m tired; I’m leaving,” said Mara.

“Oh, thanks!” Anko knew that Mara had been living away from her habitat for several days and didn’t want to hold her back for any longer.

Mara released the jutsu and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Ah… the snake fucked around with the jonin.” Takuma raised the letter and put it on the table. “You can read it later.”

Anko opened her mouth before closing it, speechless. She glanced at the empty spot where Mara stood a few moments later.

Takuma laid the storage seal scroll on the floor, weaved hand seals, and released the seal for multiple stacks of A3-sized posters. The posters put up by the enemy were red-themed, so the team decided to switch the color and go with blue-themed posters.

“Good, these are good,” said Takuma.

Takuma wasn’t the greatest writer. The only writing he had done recently was writing bland case reports in the Police Force, which showed in his poster drafts. Daiki, who read them, commented that Takuma’s writing was too complex and longwinded. Daiki said that if Takuma wanted the message to spread, they needed the posters to be easily understandable. Daiki made a great point because the posters were only the first step. The moment the enemy was made aware of the posters, they would try to take them down—and the real goal was to spread the message around the city through word-of-mouth. For that to happen, the wording on the poster needed to be concise, easy to understand and memorize.

Daiki, unsurprisingly well-read, turned Takuma’s writing into points that could be picked up quickly after a short read. Iori also contributed a rough and quick artwork depicting the occupying enemy in a bad light to attract the eyes of the populace.

Takuma looked up at Gaku. “When are we meeting the locals?”

The team wasn’t equipped to distribute the posters properly across the city. They weren’t familiar with the hotspots where most people would see the posters. Even if Gaku were to circle out locations on the city map for the team to follow, they wouldn’t know the specific areas in those locations where the posters would get the most eyes—something locals would be perfectly aware of.

“We leave in an hour,” said Gaku. “I have set up a meeting.”

“Are you sure your identity is safe?” Anko asked him.

Gaku nodded. “It’s safe, don’t worry.”

Gaku was a well-known figure in Yu. As a retired shinobi, he was well-connected with the resistance elements in the city, so much so that he was on the enemy’s watchlist, who were on a constant lookout for him—which means that he couldn’t be seen in the city without the fear and danger of getting hunted down by the enemy.

This was why he operated in the open as Jimii— Chinatsu’s pimp from the Hot Water Daimyo’s capital, who had followed Chinatsu back to Yu. He was shockingly adept at disguises and masquerading skills. After a few light cosmetic prosthetics, body language changes, and voice modulation later, Jimii was practically unrecognizable from Gaku.

It helped that Gaku and Jimii ran in different social circles.

Takuma stared at the posters as nervousness bubbled up within him. The plan’s success level would dictate how the future was going for him. He needed the plan to succeed to inspire confidence in the team and Anko so they would allow him to operate with freedom and trust his decisions. Not to mention, his failure could mean Gaku trying to butt in and try to take control of the operation.

This had to go great.

———

.

A single street light cast light in a shopping center’s back lot used by the shops and businesses to move merchandise and inventories. A group of five men looked tense as they stood under the street light.

“Are you sure he’s coming?” The skinhead youngster who asked the question handed a hand-rolled cigarette to the middle-aged man leaning against the light pole.

Motohiro was a middle-aged man with a wide frame, big arms, and a bear belly. He owned a milling business in Yu and had a considerable of people in his employment. He was rich but not enough to be part of the city’s elite, but comfortable enough that he had no financial burdens. Ever since the enemy had invaded and occupied the city, he had become a community leader who people looked up to. Motohiro had taken that responsibility very seriously and had been involved in the resistance efforts.

He scratched his full beard before taking a long drag from the cigarette. It did nothing to calm him down.

“He said he’ll be heard,” said Motohiro.

“Can we trust him? Didn’t he run away?”

“Why would he return if he ran away?” Motohiro took another drag before passing the cigarette. “There’s no harm in listening to him. If we don’t like it, we walk away.”

“He’s a shinobi… they’re dangerous.”

The rest of the group looked uneasy at the mention of shinobi. Even though they were part of the resistance group trying to oppose the enemy occupation, there wasn’t much they could do when the enemy was an army of shinobi with a stranglehold on the entire city. One shinobi could wipe out the five men gathered under the streetlight in a few seconds without breaking a sweat.

“And they’ll be dangerous regardless of what we decide,” said Motohiro.

To be honest, Motohiro didn’t think anything would come from meeting Gaku. Even before everyone had lost any connection to Gaku, the shinobi wasn’t very social or involved with any resistance efforts. He kept to himself and had only shown up randomly at gatherings whenever he felt like it, and even then, he stayed in the corner without contributing unless prompted to.

Motohiro was surprised that Gaku had even contacted him. Given that he was a shinobi, Motohiro gave the meeting a chance rather than outright ignoring the man who had been missing for longer than a month and hadn’t been of any help before.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps that set the people on the edge. As the sound grew closer, Gaku’s figure stepped into the faint light of the streetlight. He was dressed in loose black and grey clothes and walked like he was on a late-night stroll.

“I hope you’ve more people than these kids,” Gaku said as he looked at the four youngsters.

“Maybe,” Motohiro said as he stood up. “Why do you need my men?”

“Your men, huh,” Gaku smiled as he reached into his clothes, which made people shift. He took a big piece of folded paper and flicked it towards the group. The folded paper flew in a curve but precisely landed right into Motohiro’s hands.

Motohiro unfolded the paper to reveal the posters everywhere around the city.

“What about it?” asked Motohiro.

“We want to respond to this false propaganda.” Gaku put a proper cigarette into his mouth and lit it with a zippo lighter.

“We? Who’s we?” asked Motohiro.

At that moment, a silent figure appeared beside Gaku, which freaked the group out. They had only heard one set of footsteps before and weren’t expecting someone else to be there with them. The figure was dressed in a dark robe and had a blank white mask with long eye slits covering his face. The figure had been standing in the shadow, standing just one step away from the light, hiding from them.

“W-Who are you?” asked Motohiro.

“I’m someone who shares an interest with you, Mr. Motohiro,” said the figure. It was a male voice, but the sound was gravelly with a hint of underlying warping. “I’m interested in ridding this city of unwanted intruders so the city and its people can return to their lives before this disaster of a situation.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” As Motohiro stared at the figure, other than below-average height, the figure didn’t give anything away. There was this person before him and Motohiro knew nothing about it—which scared him from believing anything the figure spoke about.

“My name’s Tobi,” the figure introduced himself with a slight bow. “I’m not from Yu, but I’ve been sent here to help the city.”

“… Who sent you?”

“Who do you think?”

“T-The Daimyo?” one of the youngsters replied from behind Motohiro.

There were whispers among the youngsters with hints of hope. Even Motohiro felt something swell up in his heart. Had their nation finally sent help to free them from the misery they faced under an enemy’s rule.

“Your country needs your help,” said Tobi. “I can help, but the people of the city are the only ones who can truly save the city…. Mr. Motohiro, you’re in a unique position to start something revolutionary that would change the tides in this city. You’re a strong voice among the people, and you have done a great job to keep them together—now’s the time to reveal the truth to them.”

Tobir took another folded piece of paper and unfolded it as he walked towards Motohiro with silent footsteps. Motohiro froze up because he could tell that Tobi was a shinobi, or at least someone very dangerous, who could kill him before he knew what hit him.

“You call this city your home.” Tobi stopped before Motohiro and held up the blue poster under the streetlamp's light. “It wants you to save it, and with my help, you can save it.”