Honoka - Flashmob in Matsushima

Description: Miyagi Prefecture has proven to be difficult for the shadowy Empress to infiltrate, due to the watchful eye of a certain ninja clan. But revenge is a dish best served cold, and when one least expects it.

- Several weeks ago -

"None of you will believe me, so I'm recording this. And playing it back to you in three weeks." The Empress smirks back at the two-dozen gang members from behind her dark purple lenses. The morning sun is bright on the shoulders of her black-and-white dress, her poise suggesting nothing but absolute calm and seriousness, despite the unease of the assembled mass. Almost all were from the Miyagi prefecture, a handful from adjoining Yamagata. And all but two were male.

"I'm going to teach you all to dance."

The laughter lasted a good solid minute, and even the Empress joined in.

- Now -

Matsushima, home of Matsushima Bay, one of the Three Views of Japan, is a popular tourist destination, though the town bears only a modest population. It's a perfectly average town, and this is a perfectly average mid-afternoon day: nice temperature, mild cloud coverage. It's the perfect day for the for a picnic, really -- but alas, the Miyagi prefectural chief of police has to work. He's here for business: each week the chief visits a different town for a meet-and-greet with the local precincts. And the meeting in Miyagi seems to have been quite enlightening! The past weekend's Ainu promotion festival seems to have proceeded well, and now... all that's left is to board the train for home. The chief climbs into his car, and...

Honoka turns quietly to Oboro, smirking at him faintly. She doesn't need words. They can share minds.

{ It's time. Move into position for the kill. Don't forget: ninja knives are crucial. }

Honoka does not need to give further instructions -- the steps have already been rehearsed.

Oboro doesn't acknowledge the mind-touch visually or verbally--though he certainly could with his eyes hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses so dark that a geek would call them peril-sensitive. He's dressed... well, he's dressed well. A black suit, finely made, classic in cut and form, with a iridescent purple shirt underneath and a dark black tie. He looks like a young dandy out on the town, his hair slicked back.

He'd already acquired the necessary knives--black market contacts are still useful even now, and so he simply moves away, towards the train station. He looks, really, like any other young man who might be out going to work, coming from work, or potentially on a date... and he loiters without looking like he's loitering. He could, of course, simply kill the man, but he knows that's not the whole goal. Revenge is a sweet, complicated business...

The police chief is an anime fan. It's not something he really lets show much -- he's got a family, and that's all his detractors need to drag his good name through the mud.

But when he gets out of his car, and he can hear the song of one of his favorite anime playing freely through the air, he stops. And listens.

It starts with one man, gyrating to the song. It's... it's a shoujo anime themesong. He's definitely not a preteen girl -- and that's why it attracts so much attention. It's absolutely ridiculous.

And before long, a second man, who seemed to be a simple passerby at first, joins in on the scene.

And a third. And a fourth. The numbers grow.

The prefectural chief's Matsushima escorts are concerned about the disruption of the train service. They instantly mobilize, fanning out to secure the area and make sure public order is kept.

Leaving the man alone, with no witnesses to his secret pleasure. Keeping face is absolutely crucial in Japanese culture. With none of his coworkers present to blab his whereabouts, he leans on a railing, slowly taking in the scene. He fumbles around for a moment, pulling out his phone.

A phone not unlike the one the Empress had used to record the same men, weeks ago, when she'd told them they'd be learning a dance not unlike this one. The Empress is dressed, now, like any other passerby -- adopting an opposite position to the police chief, recording the whole flashmob scene on her mobile phone. Today, the Empress is disguised in plain sight -- just another face in the crowd as she waits for the scheme to unfurl.

Oboro shakes his head, minutely. It's almost too easy, really. Knowing exactly how to distract him, to capture his attention -and- spread his team out? He wishes everything could be this easy.

Even without his psychic abilities he could assassinate this man. Even in his white suit he's stealthy, and projecting an aura of unobtrusiveness it becomes even easier. He doesn't say anything, his footsteps silent as he walks up behind the man. The kunai appear in his hands as if by magic. Two of them are plunged into the police chief's kidneys, from the back, their red silk-wrapped handles sticking out to be driven deeper once he falls. Just as swiftly a third knife appears in his right hand, and it is plunged into the chief's throat.

That should prevent anything more than a gurgling cry. And those three knives would probably be enough--but then a fourth knife is conjured up and, like a magician's trick, is plunged into the man's heart.

Only then does Oboro leave, ghosting away in the midafternoon, a good fifteen yards away before the chief even begins to fall.

The whole exchange lasted but an instant. The local police hadn't even noticed anything awry -- they were too busy focusing on the flashmob, and trying to form a safe route for people who didn't want to interrupt the impromptu dance-off. It had seemed at first that managing this many people would be impossible -- especially as more and more 'random' people began to join the mob.

But there was one pair of eyes who had been focused upon the police chief. An ever-vigilant defender, ready to leap to his defense. But even -he- had been caught with his guard down -- cloaked amidst the boughs of the trees surrounding the train station, he hadn't himself been detected -- but he nonetheless blinked in the face of the illusionary master of blades.

NO!! -- This was the silent scream of the ninja, behind the half-mask. No one else was watching. And this man -- this -brave- and noble Chief Teika Yamaha -- was felled in an instant, dropping to his knees with blood founting from his throat, his chest, his kidneys.

The ninja leaps into the air, and in the next instant he's by the chief's side. Pressing his hand to the chest -- a futile gesture at first, but his hands glow brightly with blue energy. An attempt to stop the tides of blood from surging out.

Desperately, the ninja looks around, to try and find the assailant who vanished as quickly as he arrived.

And that's when the policemen spot him. With his hand on the wounds -- literally red-handed.

The Empress bears no smile as she continues to film the flash mob, seemingly oblivious to what's just happened. She hadn't meant it to be -that- simple for Oboro. But if he hadn't made it away so quickly, there's a good chance he would've been spotted by the police -- instead of the ninja.

Excellent, she reasons -- as the flashmob continues their dance to the conclusion of the first song, to riotous applause. The song was so loud and distracting, people hadn't even realized anything was amiss till it was over.

And the Empress fades away into the crowd -- not as seamlessly as Oboro, but effectively just the same.

{ Mission complete, } broadcasts Oboro, his mental tone of voice dry and slightly amused as he walks into the crowd. It may be an open question as to why the blood didn't splatter all over his suit--but then, he has the power of the mind on his side.

Seemingly oblivious to the hubbub happening behind him, he raises his sunglasses, glancing up and down the street, then casually lifts a hand, hailing a cab.

{ I think, } he thinks, { I'll visit a... old friend. But I'll be back at the circus in time for the evening's show. } The cab pulls up and Oboro slips in, quietly speaking to the taxi driver, and though he rolls the window down, he makes a point of not even noticing the things happening. This, too, is tradecraft. Should the ninja have actually made him... well.

Oboro is confident in his skills, but not stupid. He'll lead any potential trackers a merry chase indeed.

There was only one silent defender assigned to watch the police chief -- they had figured the attacker would be female, and certainly not one who could move as swiftly as Oboro. A costly assumption for the joint ninja clans to make -- and one which may prove to be their undoing in the area.

For as the police close in on the defender, the ninja performs his own teleportation jutsu, vanishing away mere instants before the closest officer can level his nightstick to subdue him. Without any lead, without any guidance on where the murderer had fled, he's got nothing but the vehicles to follow. A taxicab? There's easily a dozen of those rolling out at any moment. A train? It'd be difficult to spot any person aboard, especially with the police on lookout for anyone like him. No... tailing is pretty out of the question...

{ Excellent... } replies the Empress. { I'd tell you to say hi from me, but... yeah. Good work, Oboro, we'll see you soon. }

It's a small setback for Ainu rights -- the police chief was an ardent proponent. But he was also a collaborator with the ninja -- which few people really knew. And fewer still will believe, knowing that he was downed by four knives bearing the mark of the nearest clan -- meaning that most of the police chief's work to secure the area in the face of increasing gang activity will be undone.

Those damn ninjas, always getting in the way: the thought amuses the Empress entirely too much.

Log created on 20:40:36 06/24/2015 by Honoka, and last modified on 14:30:43 06/27/2015.