The Many Faces we Wear

Mission:

With his legs stretched well across the cherry wood desk, arms tucked neatly behind his head while leaning back in the office chair. His Mizukage hat sat comfortably on his face blocking all light and view, the ticking of the clock on the wall to his left was all that he attempted to focus on in between drifting off into sleep. The last bit of paperwork had been processed for the day, all that was left to do was to sit through two mission requests, then this man could enjoy taking his leave for the day. Being up before the sun just to get off from his desk duties at a reasonable time definitely was taking its toll on his mind and body, thus these were always an exciting moment.

"Hmm.. It feels like it's close to my time off.. Ugh!.. Were are these clients? If they don't get here by the time I get off they'll just have to catch me tomorrow.."

As the time ticked on an uneasy feeling increasingly overcame Ōsharu, things were going to well for comfort. His left index finger lifted up his hat just enough to take a glance at the wall. Taking a few seconds to adjust to the distance and light difference, the man scoffed as the correct time came into focus.

"Hmm.. Three minutes left, eh?.. What could possibly go wrong?.."

No sooner had his brain processed these thoughts did a rap at the door occur. Silent groans and rude hand gestures were made at the people behind the door as he straightened himself up became presentable once more. Once more there was a rap at the door. Cupping his right hand a few inches from his face to check his breath, Ōsharu preceded to clear his throat before calling for the party to come in.

One by one shinobi dressed in uniforms from foreign lands began to create a path leading to the Mizukage's desk, the footsteps of who was assumed as the subject of the matter could be heard echoing from the rear. Upon coming in view, Ōsharu tried his best not to make a face as a pale-faced, sleep deprived, and from the way he smelled, needed to shower, stood before him. The man was jittery to say the least, his head swiveled round and around as his eyes scanned over every inch of the room. Based upon the man's actions and his overall demeanor, Ōsharu could tell this would be no simple.

"Lord Juudaime Mizukage ! I greet you with haste because I am in dire need of your military assistance. My name is Susota Ukahira. Feudal Lord of the Moon Country"

The feudal lord spoke rather quickly and upon bowing his garbs nearly fell from his body. The man's condition and state of mind was not of proper standings. Ōsharu pushed back from his office chair before assuming his full height, making his way to the front of the desk he was stopped by the entirety of the foreign shinobi. An eyebrow was raised at their actions, after removing a hand from his chest that initially stopped the man stepped back a few steps before clearing his throat.

"Lord Ukahira.. Whatever has you in such a state I assure you will not be an issue within the realms of Kirigakure.. As well, your state of mind is not at a comfortable level to discuss matters of such caliber.. Thus, I'm issuing that while you are on my lands you will get plenty of rest then we will speak again.. Twenty-four hour surveillance of your own men and some provided by myself will be outside your door.."

The feudal lord broke the bridge that was his men as he attempted to say something more to Ōsharu, but his attempts were futile. Giving the shinobi the coordinates of the inn where the their lord would be residing, they all disappeared in a flash. Ōsharu cocked his head around as he grasped the last thing yelled by the feudal lord, it was a name he had only just come to known. Only now were the man's actions justified and for good reason. A master of sabotage and disguise, trusting anyone that was not known personally was just another trigger pull in a game of Russian roulette. For he was:


Being one of two main ports for missing-ninja and travelers, Kirigakure was a beacon for rumors and such depicting the tales of Tilean Wasp. Villages and countries infiltrated by this one man, his henge and cloaking skills far beyond what most conceived possible. Though not on the level of a certain Tsuchikage, Tilean Wasp was just shy from this record. A force as such was a definite threat to the building blocks occurring in Kirigakure at the moment, but Ōsharu was not one to let one down in a time of need. Looking out at the village as it transitioned from day to night, the young man weighed his options and the fate of Kirigakure and foreign affairs.

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Word Count: 832