Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself (Solo)

It was an unusually cold day in Hoshigakure. Bundled up in warm clothing, people walked through the streets in groups, bunched up, like penguins conserving body heat by huddling up. In these streets where everyone walked together, some families, some couples, one figure stood out against the crowd. Dressed in his sunday best, you would be forgiven for thinking the boy was on his way to church, for it was the sabbath, but unfortunately, his destination was not nearly so pleasant or inviting.  The orange haired, well dressed, bespectacled figure, his hands in his pockets, walked alone, against the grain of the crowd, cutting in like a ship breaking through the ice on a frozen lake. It was an appropriate metaphor, for the boy with the orange hair was going somewhere where hardly a soul in Hoshigakure would want to go. The home of Genzo Shimura, the father of the boy with the orange hair.

The boy’s name was Yori Shimura, and he did not look nearly so excited as a boy who was about to see his father ought to. You see, Yori did not live with his father. Their relationship was complicated, to say the least. Still, when he was summoned, he dare not refuse the call. Stepping away from the crowd now, a few people stared at Yori as he turned a corner, down a street that was all but abandoned. This whole area was owned by the Shimura family, and it was well known who pulled the strings there. A few onlookers fixed their eyes to the back of Yori’s head as he stepped through the threshold of the largest house, and the home of the one and only Genzo Shimura.

The boy had been practicing his academy jutsu that morning. The substitution technique and the transformation technique, chiefly, along with another, simpler ability that was more of a hobby project at this point, for all the good the ability would ever likely do him. From training, he had come directly to this place, not wanting to be late for this most important meeting.

The two men at the door nodded stoically as Yori approached. They were well dressed, just as he was, wearing dark glasses and giving off an imposing demeanor. Bodyguards of Genzo’s. He could never be too careful. A bit of extra muscle at the door was good for deterring threats or would be robbers. Not that he needed the help. As if in answer to his thoughts, the sound of a man screaming came faintly to his ears from inside the house. Gulping, Yori continued inside, the large double doors being held for him by the two guards.

To say that Genzo Shimura’s house was magnificent would be an understatement. It was massive, and the place was practically overflowing with valuables. Ornaments, jewelry, suits of armor, and… paintings. One of his mother’s paintings was hung over the mantle in Genzo’s parlor. Yori had never informed him of this. He could see no benefit from doing so. Still, the sight of it always haunted Yori, reminded him of a time and place that he once was a part of, just a few years ago.

His mind flashed back to his days in their old house in the woods. He remembered the snowy little village he’d been a part of. He and Mayuri used to play in those woods. They built snow forts and had snowball fights, they played hide and seek, or sometimes they even played soldier. He was particularly fond of pretending to be a great martial artist, while she fancied herself an assassin. It was funny how time played tricks on you. Now here he was, living out the life he dreamed of, and hating every moment of it. It was hard to enjoy himself when he was crushed under the boot of his father. He hated being indebted to him, although he cared for his father greatly. He had given Yori the chance at a better life, after all. He had spared him and his family, and that was more than he could have hoped for. These thoughts crossed Yori’s mind as he finally entered the room where he knew his father was waiting for him.

Genzo was sitting at a large oak table, across from another, frightened-looking soul. The other man was ragged, yet immaculately dressed. He looked like he hadn’t slept the night before, yet he tried his best to look composed and respectful. This was the mark of a man in debt to Genzo. A man about to beg for his life. As Yori stood in the doorway, awaiting permission to sit, Genzo waved him inside.

”Good morning, Yori.” Genzo boomed from his chair, cheerfully picking at a bowl of rice. ”Have a seat, son.” He commanded, and Yori obeyed without a moment’s hesitation, sliding into the chair between Genzo and the poor soul across from him. ”I was just telling Mister Usami here just how hard you work to repay your debt to me. I’ve been generous to you, have I not?” Genzo inquired. The question was loaded, of course. If Yori said no, he’d be beaten to within an inch of his life for it. Even still, it would be justified. He could not lie, Genzo had been more than generous.

”You took me in and gave me a home and a chance to repay my debts. You’ve been very generous.” Yori agreed, taking a sip of his wine after waiting for Genzo to do the same. The man across finally seemed to gather up some courage and pipe up.
”You can’t expect me to sell just over my own daughter to-” He began, abruptly stopping himself when Genzo’s glare bore into him. Nobody spoke out of turn in the house of Genzo Shimura.
”I’ve been plenty patient with you. I’ve allowed you ample time to pay the debt. Now, you will make your choice. Pay up. Every last penny you owe, or your daughter. I’ll have my payment now.” Genzo commanded. The jovial, business like tone he’d possessed before was abandoned, and Yori’s father was truly terrifying once again.
”...And if I refuse?” The man muttered, his eyes fixed upon the floor.
”Yori?” Genzo inquired, glancing over to his son. Yori sighed. He hated doing this. It was his duty, nonetheless.

The tiger chased the boar, who ran to his friend the ox. The ox, in turn, chased the dog, who was attacking their friend the snake. Damn, that was a crappy way to remember the technique. He’d have to think of something more catchy and memorable than that. Nonetheless, it was an effective ability, and he already knew the hand seals fairly well. The chair he was sitting in was gone, in its place was the throne that lay beside Mister Usami, neatly stacked atop the one Yori had been sitting upon. In a blur of motion, Yori appeared before the man, and, his hand curving into a forceful but hopefully relatively painless backhand, he struck the man across the face, sending him sprawling from his chair. The attack he had just made was a simple taijutsu maneuver, taught to him by one of the instructors at the academy. This particular instructor had a reputation for being rather hands-on, perhaps terrifyingly so to the other students, but Yori had always gotten on rather well with him. He was used to hanging around with those much more powerful than he, and this fellow at the academy had ended up giving him a private and very enlightening tutelage.

Though the brunt of what they discussed was related to the basic principles of ninjutsu, he had convinced the instructor to tutor him a bit in the area he was truly talented and interested in, the art of taijutsu. It was a love of Yori’s, and perhaps part of it came from his father’s own blood. The technique was basic enough, but it was still a significant improvement over what he’d been taught in the past. It was enough to satiate his thirst for knowledge and get him to focus on his studies. Those studies bore fruit in the form of the substitution technique, arguably the very most vital ability of any shinobi. While Yori Shimura was no talentless brute, learning the hand seals had been quite irritating for him. He possessed plenty of natural talent, but the memorization of each seal as well as the sequence was infinitely frustrating and tedious. He’d finally figured it out, just in time for this display, thank god in heaven, for Genzo would have been most displeased had he not delivered.

The man cascaded across the room, flying into the wall and striking it. He sat there, in shock, and Genzo stood from his seat, dabbing his face with a napkin and coming around the table to stand beside Yori, placing a hand on the shoulder of his son.
”So, Usami…” He muttered coldly. ”Your daughter, or your life? Don’t try to be a hero, my friend. If the debt is not paid, it’ll be transferred to your daughter regardless.” He informed him. The man sat there in shame, and then, finally, bowed his head in shame.
”...Bastards…” He muttered.
”Excuse me?” Genzo threatened.
”Take her.” He sobbed. He was crying now.
”Wonderful. Yori, see him out.” Genzo said, stepping back towards the table. ”I have business in town to attend to.” He explained, and like that, Genzo Shimura’s powerful presence vanished from the room. Yori paced towards the man, extending a hand.
”I’m sorry.” He said, helping him to his feet. The man said nothing. ”I don’t know if this will mean anything to you, but Genzo truly does take good care of me. He has provided me with room and board. I never go hungry and anything I want, any resource or tool, is mine to take, if I request it. He gives me the chance to repay my debts. He’ll do the same for your daughter.” He explained to the man, who stood there, stoic. He pointed to the door. ”Come on, I’ll see you out.” Yori said, leading him through the door. They walked together in silence, reaching the hallway. They stepped through it, back to the front door. They passed by the guards once more.
”...How could you?” The man muttered to Yori, outraged. Yori said nothing. The man continued. ”How could you support a man like that? A man who forced you into servitude? Why do you help him? Why do you not take him to the queen for his crimes? Why?” He asked, tears welling up in his eyes, turning violently towards…

Nothing. Yori was gone, vanished in the morning light. In the crowd, closer than one would expect, Yori wore a different face. It was another academy technique he had learned. The transformation technique. It allowed him to change his shape and appearance, and was perfect for escaping sticky situations like this one. Three hand seals, a dog, a boar, and a ram, were all he needed to assume the face of another person entirely. This boy had brown hair and dark blue, innocent eyes. In summation, he looked nothing like Yori. Yori, in his transformed state, watched the man stare on in confusion. He looked as if the world had just flipped beneath his feet and sent him spinning. Yori didn’t blame him. He had just lost everything. Why had Yori made use of one of the most difficult academy jutsu to escape this conversation? Why not give him a straight answer? Because Yori didn’t have one. There were some questions that Yori just didn’t have the answer to.


(Exit) (TWC: 2014)
+10 Stats
500/500 Substitution Technique
500/500 Transformation Technique
500/500 Discipline

Approved.