Aftermath (P)

She didn’t remember how she got there. She didn’t know how long she’d been there. She’d entered this place, broken and bloodied, in the arms of the Mizukage. At least, she assumed as much. The truth was, she’d been unconscious since watching her brother dragged from the room, struggling even with his neck broken, in a display of true Kirigakure brutality. The next few days had been hazy at best, with Aryll slipping in and out of consciousness throughout the duration of her stay. She knew that she was healing, and quite fast, at that, but she didn’t feel like she was. She still could not move her legs. She knew that this baffled the medical ninja, as she’d been almost entirely healed since her experience.

All that was left was the more deep-set trauma, the kind of thing an S-ranked medical ninja would be required to heal. Unfortunately, Kirigakure had just lost its only medical ninja of that rank. It was rather ironic that her own brother dealt the blow that nearly killed her, and now was unable to save her. He’d lost sight of himself in his last battle, and Aryll had paid the price for it. As she lay there alone in the bed, a vacant expression sat on her face. Just as when she had lost her family before, Aryll seemed to be giving up hope. By now, though, the hospital had decided there was nothing else they could do for her. Aryll had made a complete physical recovery. The fact that she wasn’t able to use her legs was not one that the Kirigakure medical ninja could change.

Aryll sat there in that chair, the one they’d sat her in and wheeled her out of the room in. It was a flimsy, cheap thing, something that was clearly meant to be temporary. Still, she doubted it. As the hospital pored over their records, not saying a word to her, Aryll sat in silence. Being underage, she wasn’t allowed to be released without a guardian, and as her kin and next of kin were all dead, the secretary scoured the pages of their records for somewhere to dump their problem off.

She sat there in the lobby, vacantly staring into space, wondering if they’d make her go home. God, that was the last thing she wanted.

06:00

Waking up from his surprisingly quiet slumber, Xyxer opened his eyes to gaze up at the ceiling above him while his body remained sunk into the mattress he was currently on. The roof was starting to look like it was a faint grey, it clearly needed a new paint job to make it seem more immaculate. Perhaps the moist atmosphere of Kirigakure was starting to get to the paint within the house despite the male's best efforts. Pushing himself upwards using the singing motion of his arms  and the curling of his forearms into his biceps, he looked around his room with the blanket covering his lower half, yet his upper half now exposed to the cool breeze of the village. His window had remained open the entirety of the night as it allowed the dense mist to hydrate him during his sleep, keeping him refreshed and looking energetic when he woke up, which was incredibly helpful. His hand moved down onto the velvet of the blanket he had used this night, gripping it lightly between his calloused fingers before throwing it off to the side, dropping it on the side of the bed in a heap of cloth.

Standing up from the bed while rays of the sun started to make it through the stormy mist that surrounded the village, he stretched his arms upwards towards the roof as if he was getting ready to pull a divine meaning for his life from the sky, perhaps a reasoning for why he felt the way he did: hollow, ever so empty. Continuing to stretch his arms upwards to limber his muscles and get the blood flowing through his veins, he soon pulled them back down so that he could hook one arm across the elbow so that he could swing it the way his hooked arm was facing, allowing for a nice stretch in the muscular groups. He repeated this process multiple times to truly get his limbs warmed up, after all, he was a weaponry master and he needed to be in tip top condition physically, so it was imperative that he kept himself awake and conscious throughout the entire day, as you never quite knew when somebody would want to challenge your reign. A fool or a worthy contender was irrelevant, as preparation was important no matter who the enemy was; if you barely defeated the fool due to your absence of training, you'd seem to have the same abilities as a fool yourself.. yet if you absolutely humiliated them, just as a jester rightfully deserves, you would deserve the praise of someone who is not a joke. A leader. A legend. An executioner. The last title had always proved to be appealing to the man who was renowned for his brutality. He had been known as an executioner during his time in Kirigakure due to his willingness to enact multiple violent acts upon those who may not have even deserved it. Yet, throughout time, that title had adapted just like anything else.. he was no longer 'The Executioner', yet that title had malformed and evolved into 'The Wrath of Tengakure', the meaning remained largely the same, just prettier. More dolled up. It was quite amusing, he thought during this time of clarity, and rather ironic. The Wrath of Tengakure had literally became it's wraith, imploding the village by the hand of his brother. He had forced it's destruction due to his wrath at it's betrayal of a superior village. Kirigakure by all rights should not have fallen on that fateful day, yet it had. There was nothing he could do to prevent that anymore, and it was a difficult pill to swallow for someone who had only been able to handle his situations through violence, yet it was.. a good kind of different. It had forced him to become a different person, or at least adapt a new way of handling things. For that feeling of loss, he had acted with more cunning than the rabid dog he had once been. Biding his time before he replaced his brother as the Tenkage.. subjugating Shimagakure to his own rule and accumulating it into his own fantasy. New Kirigakure would be something Old Kirigakure never had the chance to be.. it had him now, and New Kirigakure would be bloody.. it would be brutal, and it would be dangerous. No longer would it be a joke to the missing ninja that prowled the streets like stray raccoons.. it'd be a nightmare. A manifestation of the will of Xyxer Gyojin and his principles.

The other Kages had been weak with their rule, and that's why they had all lost their rank to the next in line. Only one Kage had been killed, he knew, yet the others had accepted their loss of rank without a care in the world. It was sickening. They did not treasure the role of defending an entire village, yet they seemed to vilify it by not spiting him in any aspect. Only Shinji had sent a man to kill him, and that man had turned out to be weak. A weakling who was now the Raikage, and a male who would need to encounter Tidebreaker again. The blade irked for the blood of the worthy, to be sated with the life force of a dreamer. To take all that the victim could be, and all he could ever want in one fell swoop.. It was exhilarating to both him, and the blade. There was nothing quite like forcing somebody to live through your will, their realization of how outmatched they are.. the loosening of limbs and breaking of bones. It was a beautiful cacophony of art, tragedy, beauty. It all melded together into one of the finest paintings a cultured person could ever acquire, and for Xyxer, it was priceless. Each new arc required fresh dough, new clay, a combatant. He needed the thrill of the fight again, that was certain.

Spinning on his heels during the few seconds that the thoughts had processed through his mind, he looked towards himself in the mirror once more, his grey eyes flickering over his proportions to ensure that he had been exercising his body appropriately and maintaining a healthy balance of toned muscle without making it too bulky; he didn't want to sacrifice any of his speed in a world where life passed by like a leaf in the wind. Gazing towards his hair initially, he ran one hand through the blue mess with his finger tips grazing across his scalp to drag the hair backwards and into a lazy style, which of course, was not intended to be permanent, but just temporary so that he could bare to look at his unscarred form. Flickering over his facial features, he took a moment to gaze into the reflection of his eyes as if he would find some form of secret behind them, attempting to decipher what was going on behind them, the calculations and the internal silence. He consistently felt a deep, hollow feeling inside.. as if there was a great chasm within him, and if a rock, or an anchor, was to be dropped down into that vast abyss.. there would be no sound. It would never hit some form of ground at the bottom, as far as  Xyxer knew. The challenge in his eyes was starting to aggravate him, so he allowed his eyes to drop down towards his throat, his chin lifted upwards while his hand ran across his jaw and the flesh that covered his vocal chords. He felt a light fuzz starting to grow and present itself, and in a world where people had super vision, that just would not do. Lowering his vision once more, he gazed at the sculpted flesh that made his torso and abdominals, and to most people this would be a great sight, much like gazing at Michaelangelo's statue of David, yet to him.. it simply annoyed him. The absence of marks told no story, and there was no history of great battles present on him. It was a great dishonour to not bear anything.. no failed skirmish as a child, no presence of losing a fight or of having a close encounter.. How could he call himself a true warrior if he did not have any damage on his form caused by another? He started to gag as he gazed at his unmarked, chiseled abs. There was no sign of life. Scars represented living.. and he had none.

His vision swooped downwards once more towards his powerful legs, causing him to lift some of the fabric that covered his nether so that he could tense his leg a little to see the muscles work. He tensed, then relaxed the same leg multiple times over, for some reason he admired it and didn't care much for the lack of scars on his lower half. 'Nobody can outrun me with these.' He spoke internally, his vision now dropped down towards his calves and his feet. It continued to impress him, as it did every morning, 'You can chase down any target, anywhere. You can outpace them, you can outleap them.. you're superior than the humans. You can take their life when ever you please, and their existence is solely your design, despite what notion of free will they may use to warm their weak hearts.' He continued to think, taking a step back from the mirror so that he could look at the entirety of his form.

It was around about this time that he started to tense his arms, watching his biceps start to bulge with the increased blood flow, yet his triceps didn't make any significant change as they were already rather impressive, and well, they don't really grow when you flex. At first he did a side profile to the mirror, tensing his left arm while pulling lightly on his wrist with his right hand to stretch the appendage out and get the vascularity more visible to himself. With the blood coursing through his veins like warm, crimson rivers, he started to see his muscles bulge slightly larger, improving his self image marginally as he started to forget about his hatred regarding the lack of scarred tissue. He repeated this motion with his other arm for a few seconds so that he had the symmetry in order, before, of course, he went with the standard herculean pose. One hand stretched out towards the sky at a 90 degree angle from his neck, his arm aiding the motion with it's full extension. His other arm meanwhile curled backwards into a simple flex with his hand pronating downwards so that he could get a full extension of the muscle. Gazing back into the reflection of the demigod before him, he started to admire the contractions in his body that had allowed such a beautiful image to stare back at him. Yet still, despite how lively the image appeared, and it's obvious virility.. the eyes remained cold and detached. He flashed a practiced smile towards  the mirror, his eyebrows lifting upwards so that he could feign happiness easier, something he had studied for a long time.. yet he could still see nothing behind the veil. Was it this transparent for others? He was unsure. Dropping his flexing session for now, he made his way towards the bathroom section of his home, not having to close the doors due to the privilege of having nobody live with you. As he stood above the toilet, you know, doing his watery business which isn't normally mentioned during a fantasy roleplay, he lifted his eyes to look at the painting that was resting on the wall by a nail.

Clusters of deep red roses surrounded by a mass of green, luscious grass. Yet, if one was to look deeper into the painting behind the glass, they would start to notice a variety of creatures hidden within the tranquil picture. Behind a few of the roses an assortment of animals would be found, such a the stinger of a scorpion as it prepared itself to take action, with a snake coiling up behind another not too far away from the one the arachnid was using for cover. Behind some long, looming layers of grass a mass of orange would be noticable in the bottom right, almost obscured by the artist's usage of brushing over it with a darker shade to make the grass seem shadowed by the trees that littered the right side. Yet the orange was still there, with black stripes hinting at the powerful animal that hid in wait. Yet, Xyxer was not focusing on the aspects of a painting he had seen a dozen hundred times before. He was focusing on the glass itself so that he could continue to stare into his own eyes, a ritual he attempted every day to find a purpose to his existence. Unlike the mirror, there was no colour in the reflection of himself in the glass. It was simply a grey mask over the colours that hid the creatures below it. No answer was still to be found in his eyes, causing a groan of tedium in the Abysswalker. Finishing the lickle trickle, he flushed the toilet soon after and took a few steps towards his shower, taking a moment before he stretched over to his sink and retrieved his trusty toothbrush, putting a healthy pea sized amount of toothpaste onto it. Placing the plastic object into his mouth before brushing it against his teeth to remove any plaque that had built up, he removed any remaining bit of clothing before stepping into his shower, closing the glass barricade behind himself. Turning the water on while he worked the bristles against his exposed bones, he allowed a cold flush to shower down onto him and close his pores, while at the same time tightening his muscles and aiding in the recovery they were about to be put through. He continued through this process, applying various lotions to his skin which, ironically, embalmed it from damage. Once that done, he'd get to it so that he was wearing his clothes, ready for the day ahead and his training later on. 

07:00

Leaving the front door of his home with a silver tee adorning his torso, combined with the black fabric of his NINJA pants and his NINJA sandals, he started to walk through the village. There was a familiar sight at the top of the Mizukage building that had remained there for a while, since Aryll's hospitalisation actually. It was obscured from most people's vision, and there was no chakra presence eminating from it due to what had happened, yet if one was to pay close attention.. they'd see the back of an unfortunate soul torn upwards, attached to two beams to give the illusion of wings made of his own flesh. Alongside that, his lungs had been removed from his body and pulled in the opposite direction to give another two wings, as Haru deserved only the best. It was fun to see a traitor blood eagle'd, and he was sure he would enjoy this sight for a long time to come.. he could only imagine what went through his head while he had to watch the processions in the village, helpless. He had been positioned in such a way so that he always had a view of the hospital, yet no room in particular. That was why Xyxer lifted a hand up to the distant figure, issuing a small wave before he entered the medical bay.

Once inside, he made his way towards the room his good pal was resting in, already knowing due to the chakra signature he had started to memorise after their numerous encounters. As he almost reached the room, he saw some unfortunate soul sitting in a tarnished wheelchair not too far away. He sneered momentarily. 'This must be where they house all of the cripples', he thought, continuing to walk down the hallway which was when it started to dawn on him. That cripple was a new cripple! Aryll! Seeing the girl that had attained her new membership into the club nobody wanted to be in, he lifted his hand up and waved towards the girl, closing his eyes while his eyebrows lifted to give a feeling of elation, or at least, to seem like he felt it.. yet how useful would this girl be to him if she was stuck in a wheelchair? Only her spirit would show, and Hyuuga's were relatively renowned for their indomitable will, Haru was a shining example of that if there ever was one. "Hello, Aryll! Sorry I couldn't come earlier, I was held up by Mizukage duties.. How're you holding up?" His eyes opened once more after the light talk, the smile remaining with a slight shine in his eyes that hinted at some form of connection to the girl. The blade on his blade, which he had obviously picked up some time before leaving the house, groaned to issue it's own greeting to her.

As Aryll sat alone in the ward of the hospital, waiting to be collected, her mind brought her to that horrible battle, the one that kept playing in her mind, as the scorpion and the bear grappled and swiped at each other, the bear snarling in rage, the scorpion threatening to lunge. Her vision had been blurry at best, but she knew what she was seeing. At least, she thought she did. She knew her brother’s battle aura took the form of a great grizzly bear, she’d seen him use it in the blood games to stop an ANBU operative in his tracks. That bear was Haru, she didn’t need her visions to subside to guess as much. The scorpion, though… While she’d thought that it was Xyxer, it kept shifting forms, changing into something different, a hideous, tentacled and horned creature, one whose face she couldn’t quite see, one that felt very alien when compared to Xyxer’s familiar presence.

Upon reflection, she had realized that Xyxer’s bubbling, tailed form was what called Haru to the room. He acted out of a desire to protect Aryll… But from what? She didn’t know. While Xyxer’s form was changing, she did not sense hostility from him. She knew Xyxer would never hurt her. No, in the end, the only one who had hurt her was Haru, whose carelessness had cost Aryll her career and her life. The ferocity with which he struck indicated that the attack was not merely out of love for Aryll, but also out of hatred for the Mizukage, the one who her brother hated so badly, for what reason, Aryll did not know. Though he was a hard, sometimes cruel individual, there was kindness in him. He was kind enough to care for Aryll when she had nobody, and that was enough for her. It was all she needed, really. A friend.

Haru had once served this role. Once upon a time, Aryll relied on Haru for everything. Moral support, training, moral guidance, he’d even saved her life when she was taken hostage in Tengakure. He had been the guiding force behind her life, even more so than Haru senior or Kuni. He’d saved her, and he’d nearly brought her back from the edge. Then, when she said she didn’t want to leave Kirigakure, he simply left. Gone with the wind. When he returned with the tide, he was changed, even more brutal and irritable than before. He was not the same, and he was not her brother.

Her brother had always been stronger than she. When they had lost their father, he was the first to recover. He seemed to draw strength from their father’s death, as if it had somehow made him better. She remembered the day he said he was becoming a shinobi. The fearful look in the eyes of their grandmother, Kuni, who had served as a medical ninja herself. The pride on the face of their grandfather, Haru Senior, whose face poorly hid the pain in his eyes. Haru trained relentlessly. He had mastered his academy jutsu within a month, and his own personal taijutsu training was quickly leading him to become one of the very fastest students in the academy. He passed his exams with flying colors, all the while, Aryll watched silently from the sidelines, unmoving, unfeeling. Broken.

When Haru became a genin, his training only redoubled in intensity. She remembered how fast he grew. She had vivid memories of him taking their dog and chasing him through an old warehouse, trying to track him with his byakugan as he began to master the art of controlling it. That was when he finally convinced Aryll that she should stop moping. His absolute determination and tenacity inspired Aryll, and she began to idolize her brother. Training with Haru had given Aryll all the confidence and resolve that she’d needed. She remembered the first time Haru had asked her to train with him vividly, because she remembered seeing for the first time that Haru was indeed incredibly powerful, and someone she needed to chase if she wanted to get stronger.

It was ironic now that the man who had inspired her to get on her feet and begin her career as a Kunoichi was the very same who shattered her body with a careless, vengeful attack upon her friend. It was ironic how the same man who’d once been everything to her had now taken everything from her. It was sad that she’d probably never see him again. And yet, she was happy she wouldn’t. All these conflicting emotions stirred and writhed in Aryll’s mind. The notions gave her a headache, and made her want to cast them all aside. It was pointless to dwell on these thoughts, as they gave her neither solace nor comfort. Really, they only served to bother her even more.

As Xyxer stood outside the glass doors, Aryll’s eyes focused on him, one point of light against the darkness of her own despair. Her friend was here. Xyxer was here. He’d just returned from cleaning up Haru’s mess and now he was going to take her away. Aryll glanced down at her legs again. She strained with effort as she tried to get her legs to rise, to do something, even just to twitch. She had no such luck. She stared down at her own pathetic form, disgusted at what she’d become. Thankfully, she would miss the sneer that crossed Xyxer’s face as he entered, and would only look up from her self-loathing once he addressed her.

Though she was utterly defeated, the words offered some small comfort to her. He apologized for being unable to come see her, referencing his duties as Mizukage for his excuse, which was fine with Aryll. She was just glad he was here. Samehada gurgled a greeting of its own, and the sentiment that even Xyxer’s sword was happy to see her alive managed to bring a small smile to the girl’s face. Even so, the smile quickly faded when Xyxer asked her how she was holding up. Though she had enough fortitude to hold back tears, she was clearly distressed.
”Broken...” She muttered, not really thinking about what she was saying.

”The… The doctors said I’m fine, but…” She stammered, looking down at her legs, uselessly resting in the footholds of the damned chair that now served as her eternal prison. Clearing her throat and collecting herself, she shook her head, her white eyes glazed and weary, clearly tired from a sleepless night. She spoke slowly, as if her words were taking time to form, as if she were trying to explain her folly to an upset parent. ”They called it… Conversion Disorder... or something. They healed my body, but my mind is…” She muttered, not meeting Xyxer’s gaze as she spoke. It was a miracle that she was speaking at all, for Aryll was known to completely shut down any and all interaction when trauma hit, and this might have been the hardest she’d ever been hit. Her career… The only thing she had left to live for… It was over, now. How couldn’t it be? She was useless. She was nothing. She was…

”Broken…” She repeated, staring off into space once more. She didn’t know what else there was left for her. A Hyuuga without their legs was nothing. If she couldn’t walk, she couldn’t fight, that much was evident. The poor girl hadn’t the slightest idea what to do with herself, and she was ashamed of her own weakness. She stayed like that for a while, staring off into space, lost in thought. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t even know what to feel. This loss was one that was alien to her. Aryll Hyuuga was one who was well acquainted with personal loss. She’d lost her mother the day she was born, one life traded for another. She lost her father not long after, unable to bear the grief of the world he remained in. Then, when the grief left her, she was happy for a time. Her brother saved her.

Then came that fateful night. She remembered it well. She had watched her grandfather fall, his arm cut clean off, and soon after his grandmother too. Strangely, she had been spared, perhaps because their attacker grew a conscious at the last moment. Too little, too late. They were both gone. Haru arrived shortly after to the news, and his rage was intense. She knew he had fought the Mizukage upon receiving the revelation, for Xyxer had returned with him and cared for Haru until the morning came. He’d even brought that kid, Monarch or something, for Aryll to wail on while he waited. She nearly smiled at the thought. And then, the feeling that she should not smile, could not smile, dawned on her once more. It was most unfortunate for Aryll that she had to go through this train of thought in the presence of Xyxer, the last person she wanted to see her like this. Still, her poker face was good enough to hide these feelings, and her vacant stare into oblivion hid her true thoughts well.

Slowly, Aryll shifted her gaze back to the visage of the Mizukage, still not making eye contact, instead choosing to look through him, gazing vaguely in his direction.
”...They won’t let me leave until someone checks me out.” She spoke slowly, her hands folded in her lap, her white eyes devoid of emotion. One of the most useful parts of having a byakugan was the lack of a pupil, and therefore the ensuing difficulty of reading the eyes of the Hyuuga. They all seemed to hold a dreamy, withdrawn expression, and so it was not hard for Aryll to keep her white eyes vaguely focused on Xyxer, her deeper emotions hidden away.

”I don’t have a guardian anymore, so they say I’m stuck here.” She continued to explain, her features seeming to falter slightly as she said the words. She paused again, as if to choose her next words carefully. In reality, she was just having a hard time summoning the words she wanted to speak. Indeed, she felt as if the very act of speaking was foreign to her, and her eyes reflected the discomfort she felt with speaking. It would likely be clear to see at this point that had any other soul in Kirigakure approached her in the ward, even her own brother, she wouldn’t have said a word. It was really quite sad.

Swallowing and turning her gaze forwards once again, she sighed. She didn’t know what else to say. She’d stated the facts of her situation to Xyxer, and she knew what she should say, but the words did not want to come out, they could not escape her. Bubbling beneath the surface, just barely hidden beyond the fragile visage of a girl with nothing left to lose, and nothing left to fight for. All she could hope for now was another friend to come save her. Yes, that was it. Xyxer would save her, just as he had before. He had to. She had no other hope at this point. Haru was gone, so were grandma and grandpa.

Finding her voice again, Aryll began to speak, her words precise and slowly dictated. She was struggling over her words, but she seemed to take solace from Xyxer’s presence, and her confidence in her words seemed to bubble up and redouble. She turned slowly towards Xyxer, meeting his eyes for the first time.
”...Would you please help me?” She’d ask, her words simple, but carrying immense weight. ”They will listen to you, they have to.” She added slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor ahead of her once again. ”I just need to rest, away from this place.” She said, her words dropping off into a mumble once again. And then, she would stare into the space ahead of her once more, unthinking, unfeeling. Broken.

(WC: 2,400)

First impressions were exceedingly important in the modern world, and in the past. If you had lead your army and engaged in conversation with an opposing general, then proceeded to come off as naive and worried about your own chances.. you'd earn no respect from them. You'd be considered a lousy person, even if you were to win the incoming battle. That was why the first word of Aryll's cut deep into the impression of Xyxer. The idea he had forged for her, the ideal of being better than Aryll ever could have.. and yet she had became just like him. She was broken, much like him, even moreso in the physical sense yet it was still notable in the psyche of the pair. Was this the regressive Hyuuga trait he heard so much of? They had once been able to boast about their heritage of a noble lineage, yet that was all they ever seemed to do these days.. boast about days long gone, and whinge when ever they did not get their own way. It was sickening and revolting to witness the girl in such a place, and it brought no sympathy from him. There was little for him to give as it was not in his nature. He'd always operated by the philosophy of the strong paving the way, and yet here was a little girl.. timid, showing that she truly was symbiotic with her brother's suffering. A great distaste continued to grow in the mouth of Xyxer, yet he didn't let on to these feelings in his expressions. The faint smile remained momentarily as he processed all of the information and allowed her to continue speaking, perhaps with a shred of hope that something she'd say later on down the line would redeem his faith in her.

It was rather ironic you know, when you think back to Xyxer's history as a child in Old Kirigakure. His brutal ways and his absence of empathy for others. His adoptive mother had told him to not throw stones at cripples after a few reports from his school had came in, yet his father, his true father, had suggested that he aimed for their heads. They had not deserved his sympathy nor his mercy, for they were weak and too frail for this world. If he were to carry their burdens on his own back he would only be limiting himself and weakening his village.. it was a purge that was needed, a cull that was desired. As his eyes bore into the girl, these thoughts ran rampant through his head as the familiar movement itched in his arm. Would she cry like the others? Was he so powerful now that the pebble would simply cave her skull in? The mesh of sticky, blood-stained silver hair caked against the gigantic indentation in her temple seemed to excite him momentarily, his breath hastening.. then he switched back in. No.. this must be Gyuki. This was not him.. yet, truly, Xyxer knew it was. He'd had these thoughts and impulses long before the beast came, but now he had someone he could blame.

Conversion disorder, huh? It seemed interesting from what she was saying, but he didn't know too much about it himself. If it was true, and her body was fully healed and capable of working, yet her mind was holding her back.. that only showed him how frail she was, and how right his father had been. She was too weak to even control her own body, how would he be able to make a warrior out of this? The notion of her even resembling a shinobi starting to amuse him to the point where his smile started to grow a little in what would likely be mistaken as a friendly grin, a nod of encouragement to keep her speaking, yet it was far from it. Then it started to strike him.. if this was true, could he overwrite what was holding her back and make her his weapon once more? Could a genjutsu prove strong enough to overpower this mental blockade of hers, and erase all that she knew about the disorder? He was unsure, but this caused a slight flare of chakra from himself as he started to work on a new technique that he hoped would be able to cause something along those lines, or at the very least, do something genjutsu-y. Then she repeated the same word.. 'broken', the word that continued to grate in his mind from the first time she said it. So it was, she had already decided her fate before he had needed to. She was useless, just like every broken thing, and was to be discarded. 

Yet, something amusing pulled him back before he simply left.. she talked about not being able to leave unless she was checked out, which caused his smile to retain it's prior splendor. Her voice seemed to carry an undertone of hope, perhaps.. hope was something that fed a lot of people, and ironically it had fed him earlier in the conversation, yet it was different now.. It was true, however, that she did currently lock a guardian, given how her brother was currently incarcerated for the deed. He started to walk towards her at a casual pace, kneeling once he reached a foot or so in front of her as she continued to beg for his help with the situation, the smile on his face remaining to reassure her, "Of course I'll help you, Aryll. That's what friends are for." He moved one hand towards her shoulder, patting it a little in case a physical connection would comfort her a little, after all, he was pretty certain she hadn't felt warmth recently, "But I can't take you out from here, you're not healthy, you're not functioning anymore. If you're broken.. you have to stay where all the other broken things belong until you heal. That's only right." His words were not entirely sugar coated, yet he had bit his tongue on the poison he had wanted to speak.. his disdain for her easily forsaken love of life. Yet, he pushed a little while his chakra continued to flair and work on the new technique.

Xyxer’s false smile would be seen as comforting by Aryll, who would smile back weakly. His words too seemed to comfort Aryll, for the fragile girl’s face grew less grave as Xyxer promised to assist her. However, it seemed now that he had taken what she said about being broken to heart. In truth, Aryll had been beating up on herself more than lamenting. She was frustrated that the only thing holding her back was her own mind, she was aggravated that even when she was finally about to make her way as a shinobi once again, something had to hold her back. Her damned brother of all people saw to her fate, and now that she was bound to this pathetic position, she did indeed feel broken and hopeless.

She had no clue how to come back from this. Her life as a shinobi was likely over. What a pathetic end to such a pathetic story. She didn’t know where to go from here, for fighting was all she’d ever known. As a child they’d always told her not to worry, that they’d take care of her, and that all she would ever have to do was focus on training. Become a warrior, and we’ll take care of the rest. Now that she was bound to this accursed chair, she doubted her chances of continuing that life very much.

Xyxer’s hand on her shoulder comforted Aryll, but his words did not. He… Wanted her to stay? He wanted to leave Aryll to rot here? No, that couldn’t be it. He truly thought she was broken, and it was her fault for saying it at all.
”I... I didn’t mean that.” She said, backtracking quickly. She didn’t want Xyxer to think she was giving up. Aryll Hyuuga, who’d had most of her life taken care of before, was waiting for Xyxer to let her quit. In the past, she’d never been allowed to make her own choices. When she’d resigned from Shinobi work before, it was at Haru’s request. When she’d began to train once more, it was because Xyxer had encouraged her. When she started for the first time, it was at her grandfather’s urging. She was waiting for the cue, for the command, for permission. Yet Xyxer did not seem like he was going to give it.

I’m just beating myself up. I’m tired and frustrated. I came so far, and when I’m finally ready to get back on my feet and become a Kunoichi, my damned brother comes and ruins it all. Even when they fix me completely, when I’m brought back from the brink of death, my fucking mind decides to hold me back. She said, tears starting to well up in her eyes. I’ve always been playing catch up, and now I literally can’t catch up. She started to cry now, her tears showing the sadness in her heart, but her eyes showing the frustration. She was defeated and angry at once. She didn’t know what to do, She didn’t know how to control her emotions.

She looked to Xyxer, who put a comforting hand upon her.
I don’t want to quit again. I’m tired of being broken. I’m tired of being the one that everyone else has to take care of. In the end it didn’t matter. Haru talked all that shit about how I was the only reason he stayed, and in the end, he was the one who ruined me. He took away my ability to fight. What the hell am I supposed to do, Xyxer? She asked in her mind, afraid to say it herself, afraid to look to her friend for guidance. Wheel herself into combat? Run people over with this damned thing? Her anger was practically reflective of the rage that Haru himself was often overtaken with. In truth, it was a familial trait, one that Aryll didn’t often let show, or at least, not as often as Haru did. It was an unusual emotion that was crossing her face, and for Aryll, whose life had always been so simple. She’d hardly ever known anger, for she had little to be angry about. For the longest time, she’d lived a cushy life with a happy family. All she had to focus on was fighting, and as long as she did that, everything else would come easily. All that seemed to be falling apart. Her old life was rapidly fading away, replaced with this horrible, disjointed life. Everything was falling apart.

Sighing at this, she looked back up to Xyxer, realizing she had remained silent for far too long.
”I… I’m fine.” She said simply. There wasn’t much left to say. She felt anger bubbling up inside her heart, felt it welling up through her chakra, threatening to burst. She actually felt her own chakra beginning to pulse with power. Her chakra was flowing faster and faster, bolstered by her rage, but outwardly she said little. A nearby drinking fountain shuddered under the force of her chakra, which sought out chakra to control.

The fountain did not burst, but as this was happening, somebody approached it, unaware of Aryll’s influence. As they pressed down the button that allowed the water to escape, it would shoot out with immense pressure, the person using the fountain nervously dashing away, avoiding the water, luckily, and quickly escaping down a hallway, not wanting to be accused of breaking the fountain. As the water escaped, the valve was held open, and several needles made entirely of water would shoot out, up towards the ceiling, before shattering against it, splashing water back down onto the fountain. Aryll’s eyes stayed firmly rooted on the floor, her face a mask that hid the sadness and the anger within. She was furious, she was hopeless, and she didn’t know what to do. In the hopes of doing something productive, her chakra had practically acted of its own accord in producing the suiton senbon that assaulted the ceiling, thankfully causing no actual damage.

Aryll’s gaze turned slightly towards the fountain, which was behind Xyxer, after this happened, unaware that her chakra had acted this way. Even Haru, whose rage was far greater than Aryll’s, had never had his chakra act of its own accord like that. His was always controlled, and, so Aryll thought, so was hers.

(3475)

(Mid thread claiming 17 stats and Water Needles)

Mod thread approved Aryll

[With Haru's permission, closing the topic since we haven't posted in it for so long with Xy doing a generic exit]

(Sure, topic closed)

Approved