Yoshimi Hoga was a rather well known merchant to anyone looking for fresh shellfish. Not only did he provide exquisite food, he also had an amazing store front. The facade of this building alone was magnificent, with its wonderfully finished deep brown wood; red, translucent, paper shōji; and long, golden chimes that danced gently and gracefully in the wind. Just over the wooden awning that spanned the entire wall was a large, 4 meter clam. The massive typically was manned by one of eight men who hid in the crawl space behind it, slowly fanning its opalescent mouth open and closed and open again for hours on end.  Within its large maw resting on pillowy flesh was a sign that read "HOGA's".

Dozens of patrons entered the facility at a time keeping the restaurant busy every moment that they were open. This facility easily crushed their competition as shellfish restaurants already had a high entry cost so it was hard to pierce into the business. One had to secure a foothold with someone who was willing to provide them with their stock, and when Yoshimi Hoga could offer so much for high quality shell fish, all that was left for everyone else was the scraps left over in the market. Almost as the nail in the coffin, Mr. Yoshimi had the best chefs in Kiri, so without any hope of competition the other store owners could only wistfully cast their gazes at the prominent and popular store.

Approximately 7 p.m.

---

Tired of feeling less than their business competitor, a group of salesmen pitched together to buy a mercenary to show Yoshimi Hoga where his place among them really was. That mercenary was a young man who went by the name Misashi, the pseudonym Izumi used to enter the village hidden in the rain. He stood outside of of the facility and as one of its patrons entered the facility Izumi vanished from sight into her shadow. She waited patiently at the foyer of the restaurant to be seated, passing by a pair of tall ornamental vases. As her shadow overlapped with that of one of the vases, Izumi quickly and silently transitioned into the object's shadow waiting for all of the patrons to leave.

Today the store owner was supposed to be staying behind alone. Supposedly he was supposed to receive a large shipment of soft-shelled crabs, but that was a set up from Izumi's employers. The sun was beginning to set and the time until his hit was supposed to be finished drew nearer. With the stage now set all Izumi had to do was wait until the time was right, and teach the man a lesson before he went his own way. Hoga sat in the dining area plump and quiet, he seemed to be a pleasant man as he calmly sat down waiting for his fake business partners to arrive. There were moments where he would leave returning with wine, or cheese, or soups, but as the night progressed it was easy to tell that he was becoming more and more overcome by his sleepiness.

[520 Words]

Jutsu Used:

Approximately 11 p.m.

---

Once more Hoga Yoshimi returned to his kitchen before setting the table with a deep scarlet, tablecloth and turning on the dim lights that normally illuminated the room for his evening patrons. It was obvious that to this man first impressions were important as he took out a mop and cleaned the floors as the hour was approaching that his visitor was supposed to arrive. He placed food on the table: a loaf of bread that was slightly tough and crunchy on the outside, yet warm and delicate within; three tiered platter of uncooked oysters, his signature dish, garnished and halved; a simple buttery sauce for both the oysters and the bread, laced with a secret combination of Hoga's own devising. Simply put it was a second course fit for even the diamyo, and here was the host laying it out with a smile in the hopes of making a new business partner and possible friend. Carefully, he shifted each and every oyster multiple times until they were all equidistant from their neighbors satisfied after each was maybe a thumbs distance apart on the one foot wide platters. He sat out short, wide, cylindrical glasses made of some sort of crystalline substance that had a floral pattern that incorporated grass at the bottom of the glass. If the glass was slowly rotated the precision of the etchings made the frosted pattern seem to be blowing in the wind. Next to the glass he himself planned to use he placed a tall thin bottle. Izumi noted that this was a bottle of shochu, an alcohol he'd never tried before, but based on the care that Hoga had put in so far he was almost certain of it's quality. Hoga disappeared once more into the kitchen this time he was gone much longer than he had been previously, and it was then that Izumi would decide to reveal himself.

He slowly rose from the shadow he'd been hiding himself in, adjusting his hakama as he did so. He reached behind him and opened the door, jingling the bell to make it appear as if he was only just entering, and slowly closing the door so it would gently shut. With grace and precision he made his way over to the table that Hoga had so painstakingly set for this moment. Calmly and patiently he waited behind a chair adjacent to one that Hoga had prepared for himself. From where he stood he could easily and clearly see the shochu bottle that Hoga had brought out from the looks of it the bottle hadn't been chilled, there was no condensation on the bottle or on the cloth beneath it. If anything the paper on the bottle implied that it had a rather dry life thus far, perhaps on a warm slightly dusty shelf. On the ceramic bottle there was a small, boisterously bright, yellow label. "Hm, Robust," Izumi whispered to himself as he glanced at the large, black kanji painted on the bottles yellow label. The countertenor's voice rang out just loudly enough that the faint mumbling could be heard in the kitchen.

"Oho! I didn't hear you enter." The voice of the man was almost as robust as he as it warmly bellowed out into the restaurant, something Izumi would be sure to keep in mind. A large door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the facility swung open as the plump and smiling store owner walked out with his arms widespread almost as if he were inviting a long missed friend for a vigorous yet pleasantly soft embrace. Izumi politely declined with a wave of his hand, implying he was a little more conservative than the man he was hired to brutally assault. As Izumi's eyes looked o the shiny, steaming, cream, ceramic tea kettle in Hoga's right hand, the one that Izumi assumed was his dominate one, he heartly spoke up, "I'd hoped you would be here soon." The man had only just entered the room and already Izumi knew that there was going to be long, tiring conversations awaiting him. "Before we get to business let's indulge a little so I can show you where all of your hard work will be going." He approached the table with a warm open gait, obviously used to showing hospitality like this to guests and making fast friends. "So friend, I've heard a lot about you. My connections say that you have been in the fishing business for quite some time now. Family business, right? I miss the days when me and my father went of to the misty, dangerous waters of the Kaijuu Ocean. There's no are no creatures in any sea quite as tasty as the ones that swim here in the land of waters depths am I right? I imagine your family traveled here, to the Land of Water, to start a fishing business or something similar, No?" The man was rather perceptive, despite his incorrectness he had perceived quite a few truths about Izumi in the short amount of time they had interacted, such as his strong paternal bond and his status as a foreigner to these lands.

"Hnn," Izumi affirmed. "I come here seeking to learn the trade of my father, sadly though he passed." Izumi used his father as an opportunity to show his genuine discomfort talking about the past, and Hao seemed rather receptive to it, perceiving bits of the genuine sadness that lay under the surface of Izumi's slightly dismissive facade.

"Ah." the man grunted. "We're not here to wallow in the past. We are here to plan our future. Have a seat. Have a seat." The man motioned towards the chair Izumi stood behind with his kettle-holding right hand, waiting for Izumi to sit in the heavy wooden chair and then doing so himself. "I would rather we not do business on an empty stomach. What would I look like preparing all of this food only to bore you with chatter?" Slowly he poured a small amount of hot water into Izumi's glass and then his own before reaching over to the bottle slowly pouring the shochu into the glasses. The two would lift the glasses and lightly clink the glasses together as they toasted one another.

Noisily slurping down a raw oyster before taking a sip of the hot beverage, Izumi let out a small mm as the delicate umami flavors hit his palette. He turned to a smiling Hoga who was glowing more radiantly than a child being praised by his father. Izumi let the taste linger in his mouth before he cleared his throat. "Mr. Yoshimi, Thank you for preparing such a wonderful meal." A hearty laugh was the only response that Izumi received as the two ate, drank, and chatted well on into the night.

[1140/1660 words]

Jutsu Used:

Approximately 2:30 a.m.

---

Inside of Hoga's large, white tiled kitchen, he was flipping diced onions waiting again to speak as Izumi finished laughing airily at his most recent of many punchlines. Izumi wiped the liquid mirth from his eye as he caught his breath, and as his laughter died Hoga finished his statement. "So that there is part of the secret to the sauce." He paused for a second, turning the power on the eye all the way down, and then sighed, "Now then, I hate to say it, but I think it is about time we start talking business." With a single statement, all of the joy in Izumi's face washed away and was replaced by a cold, distant, downcast glance. As his eyes veered away from Hoga for a moment the older gentleman responded, "Woah now, no need to look so distraught. Maybe we can do this again sometime." Then there was a moment that neither party spoke. An awkward tension lingered in the air as the room completely silent except for the dying sizzle of the onions that Hoga had been preparing. Tension like a garrote held sharp to their throats kept each one of them silent as Hoga sensed something was wrong.

Izumi's hand moved with a  slow and meticulous precision to a long sharp knife on the island that rested in the center of the kitchen separating the two of them. Hoga chuckled nervously, 'a shinobi,' he thought to himself, though the fear was tangible on his face as his eyed darted to the Izumi's cold gaze, to the knife, to the hand reaching for it and back to a murderous gaze that met his own fearful one. "Boy." The man paused to correct himself, instead using the name he had been given earlier. "Misashi, no one is making you do this. There is another-"

"No more words from you." The ninja instructed. Izumi grasped the cold serrated blade in his hand, its metallic glint resting comfortably in within his grasp. "You are a good man, and this is not personal."

"Then put the knife down and we can talk this out." The man's dominant hand thrashed threw the air as if he were slapping away the idea. His head shaking 'no' as he did so. "There is another way. Don't let the people who put you up to this. I know it may have been a mask, but I have seen threw it. I saw it in you, Misashi. You are a good man. No one has to die. Don't let your sorrow control you!" The man pleaded speaking truths to his would be friend. Izumi would let him talk as he always let them, and while this hurt him he had already made the contract. Izumi was nothing if not honest.

"Maybe in another life," the shinobi whispered. Izumi's cold stare softened ever so slightly, even as he fought to maintain neutrality. "Now," Izumi's voice rang out in the kitchen before returning to a level more appropriate for indoors at night, "I thought I told you no more words, yeah?" Izumi's chakra locked onto the air around as Izumi's palm made an upside down boar symbol as his empty palm slowly rose until it faced the renowned chef before him. As his chakra began to attach itself to the objects in the room, the utensils and other cookware in the room began to shake and rattle.

"Misashi, why?" The man on the other side of the island inquired as he stood bravely ready to face whatever may come next.

Izumi delivered a rehearsed monologue. "You, Hoga, are quite the interesting man. You are the most acclaimed oyster bar in the area, have access to some of the finest ingredients the sea has to offer, yet for some reason your prices are unreasonably low. " Izumi's voice picked up a simulacrum of the hostility of those who wrote the message. "You siphon away customers from other sectors, stealing away our revenue and our way of life. stealing from humble fisherman who have been fighting to keep their father's and grandfather's store fronts open." Izumi side stepped slowly circling around the counter towards, his could-be friend, his palm growing ever closer. "We know we can't compete with you. We don't know how you manage to get what you get and afford to have your prices so low. What ever costs you have gained or avoided paying, will pale in comparison to the price you will pay." Izumi ended the monologue.

Izumi walked forward until his palm was firmly on Hoga's chest, whose shaking fearful body stood steadfast. "Misashi."

"A pound of flesh has been demanded Mr. Yoshimi. It is undue, but it has been demanded." Izumi's eyes wanted to dart away, wanted to look anywhere except at the man in front of him, but he refused to do the man that injustice. This man had shown him a hospitality that he had never seen before, and introduced him to a life that he may never get to experience again. Izumi tasted the life of a civilian, warm and robust like shochu. At the same time though delicate and fleeting like an oyster. He knew such a life wasn't possible for him. He knew what path lay before him. He knew that he could not follow his heart like the man before him did. He knew that had he been born in any other world, he would be placing a hand on the chest of a friend. He knew that had he grown up in any other world he could have been placing this very hand on the chest of his father. His thoughts lingered on the night just a little longer before he deeply inhaled.

"Push." a whispered voice whispered, soon to be followed by a shock wave.

[975/2635 words]

Jutsu Used:

Approximately 2:40 a.m.

---

The Ninja's chakra flared all of the Jiton chakra pushed every object in the small room simultaneously away. Hoga flew across the room as the atmosphere around him propelled him into the a white tile wall. As his body drooped down limp onto the floor, behind him was a blood stain that smeared down the wall as the man roughly in his late thirties mopped it with the back of his head. Izumi walked up to the unconscious body, thankful he didn't put up more of a fight. With a grunt Izumi lifted his unconscious body, his eyes grew misty from what he had done.

Approximately 3:00 a.m.

---

Hoga's unconscious body released plumes of steam from his nostrils every time he exhaled, as his body strained to pull from the cold, cutting air around him. Hanging next to him were large five foot fish which dangled as solid hard masses frozen in a frostbitten room. A heavy, metal, door slammed closed as Izumi walked in, knife in hand. Izumi grabbed onto the man that humg from the ceiling like the food products he himself was responsible for cooking. His staff wouldn't be arriving any time soon. He had no family to miss him. He had no savior. Izumi placed the knife to the one of the man's two hands, the only things supporting his burly frame of a few hundred pounds.

Approximately 3:30 a.m.

---

Izumi left out of the building clean of the blood from the gruesome act he committed against a good man. Hidden within his sleeves was the left hand of the renown chef. He slid the door closed behind him, a bell jingling signalling his farewell. The ninja held up a one handed tiger seal vanishing out of this dreadful place to deliver the pound of Mr. Yoshimi's flesh to the people who contracted his services.

[315/2950 words]

Jutsu Used:

[Exit Thread/ WC Math post]
Total WC= 2950
C-Rank mission= -1000

Stat training WC= 1950
Strength E-3 -> D-3= -1,475 [-150 money unit thingies]
Speed E-2 -> E-3= -225
Endurance E-2 -> E-3= -225

Total word count remaining= 25

I think I would pay someone ryo to do these for me... [/end math]