A Nobody Arrives in Nagasaki

"This all sounds very strange to me." Hayato slowly sipped on his soup. It tasted good, better than the cheap food he had bought earlier today. Assassins. Templar. None of what these men were saying were making a lot of sense to him. A part of him wanted to just so, "no" and have nothing to do with these possibly insane men, but the idea of work was tempting. But something else was more tempting. Perhaps this was a way to turn his life around. Maybe he hadn't blown his chance to become someone great. Through these Assassins he could become a hero, or feared by his enemies, or a legend that would be past down for all the ages.

Hayato finished his soup. Putting the pull down he turned to Thiago, "I'll do it."

Thiago was in the middle of appreciating how the Japanese tempura was derived from the Portuguese peixinhos da horta {fish from the garden}* when Hayato agreed, so he just nodded. His nodding gradually grew slower and more exaggerated until he swallowed the shrimp, "Excelente. Come with us to the base. We will give you a hotspring and some time in the training ground. I'm actually planning a training game that you would do well to join," he glanced over to Yuzuru, "Don't give me that look," he whispered, "Do you know how valuable a former Oda soldier could be? He's well-trained and he's not a Templar. This is a golden opportunity."

*tempura is derived from peixinhos da horta