Monster Hunting (Mission)

Spoiler:

Aryll Hyuuga hung precariously over a pit of hot coals and molten metal. Her left leg, limp and useless to her, was ironically the only thing saving her from death, for it had caught between the wall and her own chair, preventing her from falling by pinching her in place. She imagined it would be quite painful if she had any true sense of pain below the waist. What was painful, however, was the blistering heat radiating up from the forge. She was already dripping with sweat, and if she stayed for much longer, she would probably die of exposure. Her silver hair draped down like a mop,and her beret was deftly caught and clutched in her left hand. Nobody was around to help her. Aryll looked around for a moment, before turning her head to face you, the reader.

”Hi, my name’s Aryll Hyuuga, and I bet you’re wondering how exactly I got into this situation.” She said, grinning deviously at the blank wall that you, the reader, just so happened to be viewing this situation from. ”Well, it all started when I decided I needed a better sword…” Aryll said, prompting a 90’s sitcom style flashback sequence.

Aryll Hyuuga wheeled herself into her workshop.
”I need a better sword!” She said, looking at the giant vibroblade that Thane had wielded during the blood games. It was fine enough as a weapon, but she’d hardly gotten any use out of the damned thing because nobody would let her get close enough to use it. That simply wouldn’t do. She gawked at the plans for her next puppet that she had plastered on the wall. His name was Ludwig, and he was one fine ass piece of machinery. The blade she wanted him to wield would be massive, but the blade she currently wielded while piloting Thane was a mere dagger compared to Ludwig’s sheer size. Had Aryll been a man, people might have thought she was compensating for something, the way she designed her puppets.

And while she wanted a larger blade for Ludwig, Aryll was admittedly only an ametuer in the terms of weapon design. While she was definitely quite the mechanical engineer, she was no blacksmith. Not yet, anyways. Today, Aryll Hyuuga was going to become a blacksmith, and forge a blade so deadly that her foes dared not to speak its name. With a look of renewed confidence, Aryll wheeled herself out of the workshop, and on to greater things. Today, she was going to master the art of weaponry. As she wheeled out of the house, a Star Wars style scene transition appears, and suddenly Aryll is sitting before a blacksmith at his forge.


”No.” Said the blacksmith. Aryll was glaring at him.
”What do you mean, ‘No?’” She retorted, outraged.
”I mean no.” The blacksmith responded coldly. Aryll scowled.
”I’m a Kunoichi.” She said flatly. People often gave her grief now, thanks to her disability.
”Bullshit. Kirigakure lets crippled little girls become Kunoichi now?” The blacksmith retorted. At that moment, a messenger bird flew through the window, carrying a scroll bearing the emblem of Kirigakure. Aryll grinned mischievously. The blacksmith looked mildly uncomfortable as she unrolled the envelope, displaying prominently that she had just been issued orders, though the contents of the scroll was anyone’s guess. Well, anyone but Aryll.

A 90’s sitcom style scene shift returns us to Aryll hanging, pinned between the wall and her wheelchair, hanging over the forge.
”So I know what you’re thinking: ‘Hey, she still didn’t explain how she ended up dangling over the forge.’ Well, I was just getting to that part. You see…” She continued to explain, as that weird scene shift thing happened again.

”Hey, that’s not yours!” The blacksmith accused, pointing to the scroll. Aryll did a double take at the scroll.
”Are you kidding me?” She sighed in disbelief.
”Someone grab her!” The man shouted. Aryll formed a few hand signs and swapped places with a large chunk of wood. This would be a good thing normally, except for the chunk of wood was…

Inside the fires of the forge. Aryll was now laying diagonally in the forge, her chair pinning her in place by the wheels and the handles, not allowing her to fall into the fire. She glanced up the smokestack that directed the smoke from the forge upwards and recognized that she could fit through it. She heard the anguished shouts of the disgruntled blacksmith as she positioned herself to wheel upwards. The blithering idiot had no idea whatsoever where she had gotten to. Pushing against the warm stone walls with her hands, she forced herself upwards, scroll gripped in her teeth, as she slowly pivoted, first one way, then the next, making her way slowly but surely up the stack. All was going to plan. As she reached the end, she flipped the chair upwards, using the momentum to force herself onto the roof, except…

She slipped.

It all happened very quickly, but Aryll fell back downwards, head first, saved only by the chair pinning her weak leg to the wall. The irony was lost on her for the moment, however, because she had struck her head against the wall and rendered herself temporarily unconscious.

Another scene transition returned the view to Aryll, now conscious, and likely suffering from hallucinations due to prolonged exposure to the smoke. It was about this time that Aryll stopped narrating to you, the reader, and instead began to focus on escaping. It was simple enough. She leaned forwards, or up, depending on your perspective, and gripped the arm of the chair with her free hand, and then ran her chakra threads along the chair, spinning the wheels as fast as she could. It jerked free, flying upwards, and Aryll, smooth as butter, pulled herself into the chair, twisting in the air to maneuver, pulling off three separate aerial flips before landing on the wheels, spinning madly, down a paved hill, in the streets of Kirigakure.

Aryll teetered to a stop at the meeting point for the mission, black from coal dust and smoke, wiping her face and hair to get rid of what she could while reading the scroll. Once she fully reread the details of the mission, she would pull out a book from the Grand Kirigakure Academy, the focus of which was weaponry, and begin reading.

In the same odd 90's cut scene styling the camera shifts to a dark basement, the sounds of bubbling and a slight creaking is all that can be heard.  As the camera pans around letting the dim fire light show the rest of the room, it comes behind shelves with jars full of an odd green liquid then shows a young man standing beside an operating table.  Wearing a surgical gown and mask with a surgeons cap upon his head, fully complete with the latex rubber gloves.  In the individuals right hand he holds a large bone saw and the left being thinly coated with medical ninjutsu chakra.  Sweat beads drip down his forehead as he concentrates on his work, his Yellow eyes showing the focus of a trained expert, the hands steady a true surgeon.  The camera would then pan to reveal whatever gruesome sight was held on the table... 

A small herb garden containing very rare and delicate herbs that were essential in high quality food pill production.  These herbs held within them great doses of chakra, and were bred by Yazu for his up and coming business.  The bone saw and hand slowly pruning them and reinvigorating them with his own chakra.  Here we hear a knock upon a wooden surface coming from somewhere off set some distance away, in response the boy would lay the saw down and deactivate the technique.  Slowly reaching up and removing the  mask and cap while he walked to the stairs and the camera would follow in his ascent up the creaky stairs where a plain looking storeroom was, looking very normal in comparison to the basement where Yazu held all of his 'stuff'.  A counter with a little bell, shelves displaying prototypes of his food pills and even price tags dangling off of them were all included in what would be seen within this room.

Of course the shop was not quite open yet since there were still a few factors to starting an independent business that had yet to be addressed, but Yazu had forever so time was not an issue.  It was a thought that made Yazu chuckle, he did not hold grudes, he did not lust for revenge simply because one day everyone who had ever slighted him would be dead and time would be the assassin.  The only people who knew the location as of now was Xyxer and his ANBU so Yazu would know that he was being called to a mission.  This happened much more frequently ever since he became a Jounin.  It was indeed a dual edged knife,  he had access to more powerful techniques but at the cost of having to work.  

The camera followed the tall skinny white haired boy, who for the most part seemed harmless in nearly every way except for the extensive scarring on his body from the threads, to the door where he would open it gently and retrieve the parcel left at the doorstep.

Fast forward to the future we have the same man wearing completely different clothes, a jounin flak jacket with a black skin suit and a black face mask hiding the gruesome scars forming on his cheeks from extensive surgeries in an attempt to perfect his immortality.   The figure walked through the dark woods area surrounding the island on the way to the ocean, where the man knew he was to meet the previous winner of the most recent Blood Games trial, Aryll Hyuuga.  The sister of the previous Mizukage, the man who in his mind was a stain on the history of the village.  Selfish dreams provide greater gains than selfless ones, this was a simple truth, and a truth that Haru despised.  On the battlefield Yazu brought with him controlled chaos, he was not to be used, he was to be unleashed.  The psychopath Xyxer recognized this strength and that was why no leader would ever surpass him.  Nonetheless, Aryll had been brutal in her Blood Games, so it was possible that she embraced the heart of Kiri's mentality more than her brother seemed to, so she could still grow to be a powerful ally.  

Waiting by the waterfront for Aryll, Yazu had little to do as it came to practicing his newest jutsu, at least not until he would take a hit to practice his threads ability to dodge attacks.  Finishing this would be the first step to his ascent to Divinity.  A god among men.

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