The organisation begins

Ren sat at the bar of his impromptu hideout, the bartender and all the regulars had been temporarily mind wiped to lend him their loyalty, it was of course, at least in Ren's mind only a temporary measure, to ensure that his little resistance wasn't given away by some loose lipped drunkard or some entrepreneuring scoundrel, looking to make a quick buck. The rest of his team were out back, last he checked, explaining things to their shocked families and making arrangements for their safety, it was good, ren had their undivided attention and loyalty as long as their families remained out of trouble.
 
Tapping the bar Ren ordered another scotch, his drinking habits were getting worse, and although he liked the fine scotch it really came down to a nervous tick at this point, rather than just something he enjoyed for the sake of it. Ren sighed internally, making another mental note that he’d have to work on cutting down his drinking, just one more thing to put on his list of unpleasant things. 
 
All the same breaking his drinking habits could wait until after these immediate problems could be sold, he’d talked a big game; told his followers what they needed to hear to join him, but he wasn't as confident as he sounded, he lacked both the numbers and the resources to make this revolution work, in truth he needed a miracle.

Kazuo Kemuri was at the bar again. He had taken great pride in his abstinence over the years, but lately, he was getting far worse. He had been drinking again. He was nursing a glass of  lead, incredibly powerful spirits; Moonshine. He'd taken a look good to the stuff as of late, and while he was hardly an alcoholic… The cigar in his hand was a return to a habit he really should have kept away from. Kazuo had stayed clear of smoking for years, and finally quit the habit, but the very moment he took a drag of a cigarette, he knew he was the prisoner of this dangerous habit once again. Kazuo’s willpower was not the strongest, despite his remarkable drive. This was how Yomi managed to flourish within his heart and mind… There wasn't much fight in him, as far as that went.
 
The regulars here all acted strangely. Kazuo couldn't exactly say how. Just strange. Beside him at the bar, a stranger tapped for another drink. Scotch, it seemed. She was a woman, she looked fairly young, too. Too young to be in a place such as this. Still, it was hardly Kazuo’s business what she did and where she went. He minded himself. Besides him, lying against the bar, the desperado and samurai had leaned his blades, all six of them neatly stacked, and his guitar, all tuned and ready to play. He figured he would spread some joy tonight if the regulars would have it. For now though, he kept quiet. He needed to loosen up first.
 

He had left his new protégés to have some freedom of their own, a chance to have a little freedom before Kazuo continued to train them. He knew where they were, and he had told them where he was, but he had made it clear that sometimes, Sensei needed to be alone. It was just Kazuo’s way of things.

Ren eyed the stranger next to him carefully, he’d hardly noticed the man before but now that he looked at him again he realised that he wasn’t one of the regulars, to make matters worse the pile of swords the man carried indicated he was either an expert warrior, likely a samurai or ninja like him, or an inept hot head. After all people that carried more than one blade were either capable of using them to deadly effect or greenhorns who didn't understand how much of a burden that weight would be in combat. Ren really didn't know which of those two options would be worse, a warrior was a threat, but if he was a greenhorn he might be the type to pick a fight, Ren really didn't want to attract too much attention to their movements here… ‘Goddamnit’ Ren thought making a split second decision.
 

Downing the glass of scotch in one go Ren tapped the bar again and held up two fingers to the bar tender, turning to face the odd man, “You're a new face he’re, what brings you to these parts?” He said nodding to the bartender in thanks as the man poured two glasses them. Swirling the liquid in the glass for a moment Ren took a sniff before holding it out to the man and taking the other one for himself. “Cheers” He’s say, sipping from the glass this time around once the two glasses had met.

As a glass sliding before Kazuo, he looked first down at the table, then at his own glass, and then to the stranger beside him. She (He?) was looking at him now, and Kazuo groaned inside. While he was typically not adverse to attention, he was currently in the middle of brooding, which was an important part of Kazuo’s day to day schedule. If he couldn't brood, he couldn't let his stress out properly. He was dramatic like that. Still, his face stayed stone cold for a moment as he collected himself, taking a drag from the cigar, taking his time to choose his words.
 
You could just kill her… him? Yomi said, beginning to question herself mid sentence as she tried to figure out the present before them. Kazuo knew why Yomi was so interested. He could feel the massive chakra of the stranger. It was close to his own in potency, but there was so much more of it. This was probably a shinobi, then. Of course. Yomi probably saw it as a glorious feast, but the last thing Kazuo wanted right now was a fight.
 
Releasing the cigar from his mouth after a long drag, he lifted the smoke into the air, up and away from the bartender, and the other patrons, as was common courtesy. Kazuo wasn't a dick, after all. He figured he should probably speak now.
“Just passin’ through. Came here to visit family.” He said, looking to the stranger, who was holding out a glass. Oh. Right. Kazuo lifted his new glass, clinking his own against his (Hers?) “Cheers.” He said stoically.
 

Deciding it was best to just have this conversation, given the other’s obvious shinobi status, Kazuo spoke. “What about you? The Land of Shadow doesn't harbor many shinobi, besides the Shinkou.” He said, hitting the nail on the head. He figured it was best that they both knew where the other stood, given that Kazuo was most obviously a swordsman. It was true, however, that most Shinobi here hailed from the Village of the Abyss. The home of the Shinkou.

Ren doubted very much that the man was ‘just passing through’ activating his mind's eye however the boy found no discrepancies in the man’s chakra… ‘Odd’ He thought to himself, beginning to doubt his own abilities as he examined the man a little more closely. It was through no fault of the mans of course, but the number of surprisingly genuine statements that his recent acquaintances had supposedly been truthful about was starting to make him wonder. All the same he couldn't find any reason to fault the man just yet, although he was more on guard than he would usually be. 
 
Ren raised an eyebrow at the man’s appraisal of him, he wasn’t wearing anything that identified him as a shinobi, indeed he should look like any regular bar goer to anyone not trained in the arts of chakra sensing. “Me? I’m just a trader” Ren said, forcing a fake albeit relatively convincing chuckle “I used to fight for a village, but these days I just do my best to get by and avoid being crushed under the foot of some of the larger villages.” He said, giving the man only a half truth, Ren paused, wondering whether to ask the man in turn… “You’ve had some training in the ninjutsu arts yourself then?” Ren asked, deciding on the direct route, there was something off about the man. Ren didn't know too much about the shadow country nor their shinobi, but from what Ren could tell of the man’s chakra levels it seemed odd that any village would let him just wander in and out without keeping an eye on them.

His acquaintance’s words were intriguing. He was a former Shinobi, then. Interesting. It seemed he'd become disillusioned, perhaps seen the error of his (her?) ways. The Shinobi of the major villages were a cowardly and superstitious lot, just like the criminals that Kazuo so despised having to work with nowadays. He'd put on the facade of being nothing but a common criminal, hoping to build the necessary resources to take back his old life, but the truth was that he could not stand that sort of life.
 
The stranger was a merchant, so it seemed. Of course, lots of people claimed to be simple merchants when pressed for answers. Still, Kazuo felt no need to pursue this line of questioning any further. At least for now. Sipping the scotch, he took a moment to collect himself before answering the trader.
“Not a lot of business in the land of Shadow. You're in between countries, then?” He inquired. It was a reasonable question. This place was very sparsely populated.
 
When the stranger asked if he was trained in Ninjutsu, Kazuo shrugged.

“I dabble. I'm more partial to the way of the sword, myself.” He said, nodding to the belt of six blades that sat against the bar. “And you?”

“Indeed, I just stopped by the land of wind, but with the turmoil caused by the recently formed Kumogakure Empire It was hard to find much business there to be honest.” Ren said, relaxing into the conversation for a moment “It’s a real shame they pretty much destroyed the sand from what I saw while I was there, the villagers were all but dead inside” he said, before kicking himself ‘idiot, why’d you bring up kumogakure, this could turn very badly very quickly if he’s secretly a Kumogakure shinobi.’ Ren thought, mentally preparing to activate his Asura’s arm seal and crush the man before he could draw his sword if need be.
 
Assuming the man did not aggressively respond to Ren’s comment however Ren would relax a little letting out a small bit of breath he hadn't realised he’d even been holding in. “Me? I’m more a scholar than a fighter” Ren said, lifting up his hand and allowing a seal to glow there for a second burning with a flickering blue flame before dimming down. “I’ve been studying Fuinjutsu since I was a kid, these days I sell the fruits of my research to help those in need; You’d be surprised how much help it is for farmers to be able to project an extra pair of hands or for them to be able to move heavy objects around as if they weight nothing…” Ren paused thinking about what he said and letting out a chuckle “Well you might not, but I expect most shinobi haven't thought about the economic implications of some of their skills” he said smiling at the man and taking another sip of his scotch. “I also dabble in some rather unique blacksmithing although I’ve been struggling to find the rather unique materials required to apply my skills on that front.”

Kazuo nodded as his acquaintance mentioned Kumogakure’s misdeeds. It seemed that the stranger had no love for the Hidden Cloud, something Kazuo could relate to. While he the news of Sunagakure’s capture was new to him, he knew of Kumogakure’s rapidly expanding empire.
“Aye, it seems they're expanding. I saw their campaign against Amegakure. Got into a tussle with one of their Shinobi, in fact.” He said, deciding to reveal a little more about himself. While secrecy was a skill Kazuo had learned over the years, bragging was still very near and dear to his heart. “I couldn't stop their army, of course. I'm just one man.” He added, deciding to downplay his boasts just a bit.
 
The man (woman?) revealed him or herself to be a scholar of Fuinjutsu, seemingly proving themselves as a merchant. What they said seemed true, and fairly well thought out. Maybe this person was really a servant of the people. When he mentioned blacksmithing, Kazuo raised an eyebrow.

“Unique how, exactly?” He asked.

Ren raised an eye at the man’s words, he’d fought with the Kumogakure army before? Ren checked his chakra to make sure he wasn’t lying, ‘well this could make for an interesting development’ maybe, just maybe this traveler could be convinced to aid Ren’s burgeoning resistance. “How’d you manage to end up running afoul of their army?” Ren asked, probing for a little more knowledge of this man. If he truly was capable of fighting on equal footing with the shinobi of the cloud and disliked them as much as his chakra seemed to indicate then Ren couldn't just pass up this opportunity.
 
Ren wondered whether he should reveal exactly what the secret was to his weapons… but he decided in the end that the man wasn’t quite the threat he’d thought he was, depending on how he reacted to this secret Ren might even consider recruiting the man. “Well, technically speaking it's rather abundant, I discovered the technique by accident funnily enough, but the trick is that forging a weapon of such immense power requires the lifeblood of four souls. It's hard to come by people that truly deserve to die, especially in such a horrific way.” Ren said, watching the man’s reaction closely.

Kazuo’s boasting seemed to have yielded fruit, as the stranger seemed quite keen on the story. Not that Kazuo even minded. What liquor he had already drank had greased the wheels of social interaction, and he was nearly ready to brag about the whole thing. It occurred to him that this person might be a bounty hunter or even a Kumogakure assassin, but…
 
Kazuo's blades were right at the table, right by his legs. He could draw with one hand and it was fairly common knowledge among the bounty hunters that came for him that Kazuo was quick on the draw. If this stranger was after him, they wouldn't make a move now, or they'd be dead before Kazuo could finish his drink. That'd be a crying shame.
 
“'Walked right up to their camp. Yelled until someone came out, and when he tried to make a move, I cut him down.” Kazuo said, taking another swig of his liquor. It was practically flowing freely now. “Poor kid yelped like a scared dog when I drew my blade.” He continued, grinning vividly. Reveling in battles like this was something he missed about his old days as a Samurai. “Not one of his comrades came to help him. I let the poor kid live, I couldn't bring myself to kill him after his comrades abandoned him.” Kazuo elaborated, his anger at Kumogakure’s sins growing with every word.
 
“They're cowards, the whole lot of them. Can't bring themselves to face an enemy unless they outnumber them. Makes me sick.” Kazuo ranted, taking a drag from the cigar. He'd have to grab himself a pack of cigarettes when he left. He forgot how smoking took the edge off. Or maybe it was the scotch. Or the moonshine.
 

As the stranger talked about their particular method of smithing, Kazuo shrugged. He'd seen worse in his time among the criminal scum of the black market. “I'd say there are a few that deserve such a death.” He said, alluding to the previous topic of conversation. Kazuo was speaking louder and louder with each drink, it was clear that the liquor was starting to get to him.