The orders were clear. Search and destroy. A few days ago, Shizuka had uncovered a group of bandits planning a heist. At first, she had thought they were simple cashier robbers. Further investigation revealed that they were more organized. They had in fact been scouting a caravan which collected money for the merchants. A secure system that ensured their money safely arrived at a bank. Stealing from one store was small cash but stealing from all of them? It would a sizeable chunk of money. Enough for the four of them to retire. Hence, the village had ordered Shizuka to take care of them.
The village did not need too much proof. A simple profiling report, a day spent sneaking into their hideout and finding the heist plans. That was all they needed. Catch them in the act, standing before a jury, that was not the way of a Shinobi village. Three days before the anticipated heist, Shizuka would seek the help of her fellow Shinobi. In the dead of night, the four thieves returned home, leaving their fake tea carts and vegetable carts out.
Their shared hideout was in a run-down area of town. The third story of an old run-down apartment. Ever so often one of them would come out for a cigarette on the rooftop before going back down. 3 of the 4 would be killed and one would be left behind. Sure, they could leave them all alive, put in jails but that did not quite send the proper message. Security mattered, there was a large civilian population within the village. Children of Shinobi, Merchants who helped the economy, their children, and the likes. Leaving one of these bandits alive and his friends dead? The survivor would spread the word through chattering teeth. The sun village had a limited number of Shinobi and resources were better used elsewhere instead of policing bandits.
It was well past midnight and soon the door to the roof would open. In the silence of the night, a few clicks of a lighter and a single red dot. There was the first smoker. A shinobi would move quickly, running up to a cart and stuffing a firecracker inside it. A few seconds later the crackers would go off. It would wake up the neighborhood, people shouting and complaining about the noise. The man on the roof would open the door, calling to one of his friends to go solve the matter.
Shizuka held onto the end of a cigarette, taking a small puff on it, keeping the putrid smoke in her mouth. After a while she spat it out, watching as a man attended to his cart. He swore at some kids, fishing out the crackling fireworks with a steel ladle. He would take his time stamping them out, not wanting one of them to crackle out on him. When he was finally done the man looked up to Shizuka, swearing at her about how he had to do all the hard work. Well, if he actually did any real work, it would matter but all he did was whine and mope about how hard life was. Thieves… no honor amongst them.
Shizuka flicked her cigarette off the roof and turned to face the body. A quick puncture to his throat had left him unable to scream. Several stabs in between the ribs and his lungs would flood with his own blood. Choking on the last few breaths, confused about what had happened. Shizuka dragged his body downstairs. They're two of the other bandits had been killed in a similar manner.
Her fellow clansmen had helped with the operation. Entering through the backdoor as quickly as the fireworks had gone off. While Shizuka had made quick work of the smoker upstairs, her teams had made quick work of the two inside. The fake tea merchant had been stabbed multiple times in the stomach while the other had his neck twisted. Was the violence necessary? No, not entirely, they could have been killed cleaner, less blood but that is not what was needed tonight.
They all heard the man grumble up the stairs. He was still on about how things were unfair, and that stealing money should be easier. The three stood silently in the dark, waiting for the last bandit to make it upstairs. Finally, keys would rattle, the doorknob twist, and his figure silhouette through the door frame.
“Why are the lights off?”
Lights flickered on, old yellow fluorescent lights flooding the scene. Three strangers stood above his dead friends. Their blood splattered across the floors and walls. He stood there, scared, and confused. His nostrils flared as he breathed at a slightly elevated heart rate. The assassins said nothing, merely looking at him with nonchalance. The lights buzzed, the bonking sound of a moth and the whining buzz of mosquitos at the scent of warm blood. Finally, the lights were turned off. The room being flooded once more by darkness. The door would creak, and the last bandit would disappear behind it.
He'd never return. Never to this village again he was stupid enough to attempt to rob a Shinobi village but he was smart enough not to actually do it nor even think about doing it. The man would break, crying and crawling for days as he tried to explain to anyone that would listen. Do not try to steal from the Sun Village.