Senya chatted about this and that with the others. The food on the plates steadily dwindled, while the large vat that had once been brimming with alcohol had fallen to half full.
The first to go down was Omoi, who rarely drank. Even with a shinobi's body, he could not last past three cups. He was a three-cup lightweight.
Killer B casually used an octopus tentacle to toss him onto the sofa. His feet hooked over the backrest, his back leaned against the cushions, and his head tilted back. His mouth hung wide open, opening and closing like a goldfish blowing bubbles in a tank.
During their idle chatter, Senya learned quite a few interesting things.
For example, A actually already had a wife. She was a dark-skinned, fit, striking woman from the Yotsuki Clan. From the sound of it, she seemed every bit as sturdy as A himself?
Senya pictured it in his mind. Well... he respected Brother A's type and preferences. The man was muscle-headed, after all...
As for Killer B, he apparently had a rap teacher in the village. That was where his love for rap had begun.
Mabui seemed worried that she would never find a partner. Most men in Kumogakure were muscle freaks with simple minds, completely at odds with her taste. That was why she chose to numb herself with work. If she did not think about it, she would not worry about it.
But now that she was resting and had drunk a little, her worries had surfaced again. Under the influence of alcohol, she even boldly cast flirtatious glances at Senya.
Senya immediately got a taste of Kumogakure's exotic customs. This... really was straightforward. Did they all throw direct pitches like this?
The most outrageous one, however, was Samui. In order to