The Seven Deadly Sins [P]

Wed Dec 20, 2017 3:04 am

Yoru looked at the night sky. It must have been time for a new moon, as its normally comforting light was nowhere to be found. He glanced around at his surroundings. I forgot how beautiful silence and empty streets can be. Yoru walked alone, the only way he had ever known. Other missing nin had always bothered him. For the most part, they were seemingly impersonal and faceless, as though they always had somewhere they needed to go or someone they needed to kill. He was currently outside of one of the lesser of the notorious black markets, set up in some of the more unscathed land in the Land of Tornadoes.. The setting of the sun cast shadows from buildings and passersby along the walkway to the ground.

However, there was always a certain aura that seemed to linger around his person. People tended to avoid him, like he had the stench of death. Perhaps it was an expression carved so deeply into his face that a person can take a look and know that this man was a killer. It had been this way for years. The priest that had first indoctrinated him into this murderous religion had received the same looks all that time ago. The white haired man had had a rumored history, dating back for what some claimed was hundreds of years. The gift of Jashin. But that could not be possible, right?

Despite what he believed, Yoru look around and frowned when he saw no one else near him. It made it wish that there was somebody there so he could anchor himself onto something tangible instead of having this feeling that he has stepped into another dimension, far away from the world. But at the same time, he could not really complain. Is this not what he wanted? Having a witness to his training would only serve to make him more of a person who could be recognized, all the while he was trying to rid himself of his own identity. Perhaps to those he could one day call friends, he would still be Yoru, but for now, he longed to be no one. He did not want to be the Ripper anymore, and he did not want to atone for his sins for the sake of redeeming his name. No, he wanted to redeem his soul. This was not about glory, it was about making the world a better place. Whether this range from helping an elderly man or woman deal with some troublesome neighborhood punks to assassinating high value targets that made life difficult for everyone. He would do this all in the shadows, refusing to take the glory that he does not deserve.

The dark is often feared by many children around the world. There is always the fear of something or someone lurking the shadows, just out of eyesight, ready to strike. Perhaps this is why most crime takes place at night, when the good are asleep. Thievery, vandalism, murder. All of these are more likely to occur when the sun sets. Perhaps the darkness helps ease the human conscious. Perhaps they feel as though the natural darkness hides their own inner darkness, giving them a false sense of security that their deeds will go unnoticed. Yoru twirled a kunai in his right hand. But that’s the thing about darkness. The Jashinist flung the kunai from his hand, impaling the palm of a would be thief. The man dropped the blade he held in his free hand as he cried out in pain. Yoru simply frowned in response. While he had longed for company, this is not what he meant. He calmly walked over to the man and withdrew his kunai. The thief immediately clenched his wrist, gawking at the stream of blood that began to gush from the open wound.

“You really should not sneak up on people like that. Just because this life may be all you know, this does not mean that this is all you have to be.” Yoru looked deep into the man’s eyes with a smile. “There’s more to life than petty crime. If you would like, I could show you the way of Jashin.”

“Get the hell away from me!” The man simply screamed as he looked at his wound.

Yoru frowned. “You’ve ruined the quiet atmosphere.” His grip tightened around the kunai in his hand. Yoru stepped forward until he was staring the man in the eyes. He said in a low voice, “I come bearing the word of my god.” Yoru stepped forward, thrusting the kunai into the man’s stomach. He whispered in the man’s ear, “That word is ‘begone’.” The body slumped to the ground, leaving Yoru holding a bloody kunai. The blood dripped from the blade. Yoru fought his now basic instincts, but still found himself bringing the kunai up to his lips. The smell of iron filled his senses. His tongue slipped out of his mouth and licked the blade before he lowered it.

More trash taken care of. He wiped the blade off with a small cloth.

There’s no telling how many that man had robbed. Maybe even killed. He paused as he looked at the body. Yoru then stooped down and closed the man’s eyelids. “May you find the peace you sought.” The priest then stood up and walked further down the road, now quieter from his deed. Or so he thought.

“Biru?!” The unknown voice rang out from somewhere he could not see. “That bastard with the white hair! Get him!” Yoru felt no fear as several bandits appeared from the shadows. Some came from buildings, others from recesses in alleyways. Many were covered in soot. They were all armed with knives or kunai. The ones with the ninja tools must have been ex-shinobi, or perhaps just got lucky and killed one. “You’re gonna regret messing with one of us,” one of the bandits snarled.

“My name is of no importance. I am no one.” Yoru looked at the men quizzically. “Why is there soot on your faces, like the one named Biru?”

The man who had spoken scoffed at him, “We just pillaged a nearby village. Burned the damned place to the ground. Now we’re going to burn you.”

Perfect. Yoru gave an out of place smile. “Well then, trash. Prepare to die.” Yoru did not draw any weapons yet, instead choosing to taunt the men with a renewed fire in his eyes.

One of the closest men to him eyed him skeptically. “Wait a minute… doesn’t he look like the descriptions of the Ripper? The one that slaughters villages and leaves orphans behind in his wake” They looked at each other with shifting eyes, searching for someone else to make the first move.

No matter where I go, I cannot escape the past…

Withdrawing a new kunai from his weapons pouch, Yoru cut into his own arm, slicing his own wrist. He then dipped his right index and middle fingers onto the gushing wound, gathering his own blood, before stooping down to the ground. He spun around quickly, drawing a near perfect circle. Years of practice The blood gushing from his arm dripped onto the ground, allowing him to use his feet to draw another shape.

The upside down triangle contained with a circle.

The symbol of Jashin.

The bandits took a few steps back. However, Yoru only had the symbol set up. His ritual was only halfway complete: he still needed the blood of his enemies. This ritual needed to be completed anyways, as he would lose Jashin’s favor, and potentially his own immortality, if he turned his back on the sadistic deity.

Jashin… if you’re listening to me… watch me. Be with me in this fight.
Yoru darted towards the nearest targets, the man who had placed him as the Ripper, some five meters away. Once there, Yoru aimed his kick high above the target’s head, purposefully missing. His attention diverted, the Jashinist kicked downwards at his knee, crumpling his target and making him hit the ground. The man next to the now downed bandit attempted to strike with a dagger. Yoru grabbed his wrist, turning the hand of the man behind his back and twisted, causing the thief to cry out in pain as he was forced to drop his weapon. Yoru kicked it up with his foot as he released the man, catching it in his free hand before turning around abruptly and nicking the face of the bandit. Yoru jumped back before the man could launch a counter attack, landing in his circle. His symbol of Jashin. The priest looked towards the dagger and licked the edge of the blade, ingesting the blood of the bandit. His body turned a dark shade of black, The man cried out in fear of the unknown. “Know pain.” Yoru stabbed himself in the stomach, causing the thief to double over in pain. He looked up pleadingly at the shinobi, barely able to whimper out any last words.

“...please...”

Yoru’s face turned expressionless as he twisted the knife, causing blood to seep out from the wound. He left the knife inside, as pulling it out would only cause the wound to bleed more. There was time for that later. Taking one of his own shuriken, he threw the projectile at the base of the neck of the downed man he had kicked, severing an artery. He winced slightly at his own self inflicted injury. Tenant 8: Pain is your pleasure. Enjoy pain. Understand pain. He stood up straighter. Live life without a fear. If only his devotion to Jashin would allow him to train himself in the arts of medicine, but alas that was not his calling. Jashin needed Yoru to be a weapon of his own will.

The sun was beginning to rise. The darkness of night began to get replaced by a soft glow of pink on the horizon as the sun threatened to rise. “This guy is crazy…” one thief said as he turned and fled the scene. Perhaps with the darkness lifting, the weight of humanity must be crashing upon their shoulders. Their immoral ways are being brought to light. The man was running. Tenant 17: Immortal ones can never leave a victim alive. They must always complete rituals. Yoru sighed as he grabbed a couple of loose rocks from the ground nearby. He one handedly signed the tiger seal, causing one of the stones to turn into a staff about four meters long. Earth had been his natural born affinity, although his devotion to Jashin would hamper his abilities to truly hone his chakra natures. He placed the other one in his bag, as he had a plan for it later.

Another thief tried to flee, only to meet the same fate as a kunai lodged itself in his throat. Yoru felt his bloodlust rising as the corner of his mouth slightly turned upwards. Only two men remained. His black form darted through the night like an apparition, a kunai thrown and landing in the eye of another bandit. He let out a slight chuckle. One left. The coward began to flee in terror, prompting Yoru to throw his last kunai, which lodged itself in the back of man’s knee, causing him to fall to the ground next to the painted symbol of Jashin on the ground.

Yoru approached slowly. The sun continued rising. The pink now lied low on the horizon, fading into a thin layer of yellow before opening up to a vast expanse of blue. The sunlight reflected off of the kunai, illuminating the blood. Yoru licked the blade as the man looked up at him with the fear of god in his eyes. Yoru said nothing as he dragged the kunai down the length of his arm. The man winced in pain. “Tenant 20,” Yoru said as he took the kunai in his other hand. “An immortal one shall bleed to death for morning rituals.” He then dragged the blade down his other arm as well, quickening the process.

“You’re a monster,” came the blubbering words of the bandit.

“I know.” Yoru then collapsed to his knees in the alleyway, him and the bandit both bleeding out as the sun began to shine down on the town.

-------

Morning.

Yoru awoke in a back alley that was not as grungy as others could have been. His skin had returned to normal, and his body had begun the healing process. He looked around at the fruits of his labor and sighed. This was his curse. Yoru spent his first waking moments collecting his weapons and cleaning them off.

This particular black market was run by a rogue nin who had become a farmer in order to hide from prying eyes. And through deals, bribes, and even murder, this man had amassed quite the amount of land. Knowing of the struggles of being a missing nin, he established this black market as a sort of safe haven. But this was not his home. He did not belong with these thieves and murderers and rapists. No, he was beyond that all now. He was no mere murderer, was a vessel for god and he bore the word of god. That word was rarely spoken, as Yoru needed to be able to crush those who would oppose him before he could spread the word once more. Before he made enemies that would see him burn for his beliefs. He exited the market itself, roaming into the fields.

After walking a considerable distance away from the market, yet still in the fields, he decided on his next course of action. All this time, he had been brushing through the tall wheat fields, taller than even he was. No one would be able to see him or what he was doing. Taking in a deep breath, the man dropped low to the ground, extending one of his legs. His right leg then began to spin as soon as he dropped, sweeping the area around him. This technique, referred to as Leaf Gale, swept away all of the wheat in the immediate area, as Yoru used his hands to consistently twirl his body, as to continue with multiple iterations of this technique. He then had created a small enough circle for him to establish as his center point.

This would be where he would be training his taijutsu techniques. He then began the arduous process of gathering the crops that he had just cleared and began assembling them into bundles, dressing them and decorating them as best as he could with his limited possessions. The man looked towards his makeshift targets. He processed these makeshift sparring dummies as a physical version of obstacles that he must overcome on the path to bettering himself and turning himself into a vessel for the will of Jashin. Seven targets stood before him for the seven deadly sins. Lust, Greed, Gluttony, Sloth, Envy, Pride, and lastly Wrath.

“Alright,” he said to no one, “Let’s get started.”

Lust.
This particular sin was especially challenging to deal with for many people. Lust is seductive, the craving for flesh that causes powerful men to do stupid things. Lust is a cruel and unforgiving mistress that infects what you believe about yourself and others you meet. Lust is vicious and spiteful, and any attempts to strike at it seem to make it disappear, only for it to resurface. Yoru had no desire for women, men, or anything at all. He was a serial killer and he had accepted that. No amount of good deeds would ever fully redeem him. Per what many see as lustful, Yoru had made this one as feminine as possible. Yoru did not even see others as sexual beings. Tenant 25: Love is the greatest sin, within all of those pleasure. If a Jashinist’s struggle in their way and will surrender to that pleasure, the punishment will be abandonment by Jashin-sama. The only acception to this rule is to marry other Jashinists. Tenant Twelve. However, Tenant 14 states that children shall not be formed, even with another jashinist. Yoru jumped into the air, performing a spinning back kick, which connected with the side of its ‘head’, knocking the bundle of hay off of its mount. Yoru landed with his back turned to the scarecrow, as he then went to set up the next one.

Greed.
This one was made of the best of the wheat around him. The most golden of all the crops. Yoru would have no desire for wealth. The only money he would need is what fed him in between times of fasting, and what he could use for his cause. First off, he needed a proper weapon. Until now, he had relied heavily on kunai, as in the case with the bandits. Yoru drew a kunai, faint with a reddish brown stain. The blood of the bandits. He twirled it in his hands before throwing it at Greed. The dagger impaled where its heart would be, as he did not even feel the need to get near greed.

Gluttony.
This world is rotten. He stood there, examining the dummy and taking in the meaning of the word gluttony. In a way, gluttony and greed were not much different from each other. Yet gluttony was the practice of stuffing oneself full of things. Whether this be food or ideas was decided on by the sinner. To ingest in the shortcomings of the world, to steal everything from the hands of others in order to fatten themselves on the spoiled products of this rotten world. This was truly a sin. A sin that Yoru could not take lightly. His mind raced back to that day. Back when he had killed an entire village, painting the town red with the blood of those who had lived there. Taking in the blood of them all and taking knives to his own body, stabbing himself so that others would be smitten down in the name of a god. All because he went too far. The man hung his head before looking at the sky. Never again. Never that many. Never the innocent. This blatantly defied Tenant : slaughter is the core of Jashinism. However, Yoru devoted himself to slaughtering the wicked of the world. He looked back at the scarecrow and took in its true appearance. He had stuffed this one with extra straw, using the largest piece of clothing that he had attained in order to hold it together. In the blink of an eye, Yoru balled his right hand into a fist and connected with the chest region. The sheer amount of straw had created a thick wall, barely creating a dent in the area of impact. Yoru backed up before turning around. And he walked. He walked. And walked. And walked. He was about 15 meters away, at the edge of the wheat field in a region that he had created by stripping away the crops. A circle with a 30 meter diameter. The other scarecrows resided at the outside of the circle, either in a decimated pile or waiting for their inevitable destruction. Yoru grabbed the rock from his bag that he had stowed earlier. Using the half handed tiger seal again, he turned the rock into a staff, hurdling it towards his target. The staff pierced the fat bundle, causing a tear in its clothing and straw to spill out its side. Fitting.

Sloth.
This makeshift target was haphazardly thrown together. This one looked the least like a scarecrow, instead being lazily thrown together. To prove his devotion to eliminating any lazy habits, Yoru would end this scarecrow swiftly. Using the ram seal, he quickly dashed to where the scarecrow was located, kunai drawn, slashing across its ‘throat’. The straw head collapsed to the ground, rolling slightly before coming to a halt. Yoru stood straight and walked over to the next target, not even bothering to cast a glance at his work.

Envy.
This was true. There were times he envied that his life had not turned out like others. He could not go to shinobi school, he could not share his accomplishments with his parents. His life was forfeit, devoted to a god who would not let him die. There is no purpose to wishing for the past to change.. Yoru made quick work of the scarecrow, kicking high and then low, just like he had on one of the bandits earlier. Leaf Whirlwind.

Pride.
One of his downfalls. He believed himself to be better than everyone else, treating them as inferior. After all, he had been blessed by Jashin with immortality, everyone else was below him. At least, that’s what he used to think. That’s what he thought when he had slaughtered a village. These lives are forfeit. No one will miss them. But that was not true. He missed them. He lodged a shuriken in between its eyes

Wrath.
Yoru gazed upon the last scarecrow that would represent wrath. This scarecrow was wearing a spare set of his own clothes. As he aimed his fist at the face, where the symbol of Jashin was painted, he hesitated… before dropping his fist entirely. He chose to leave Wrath behind. Yoru snapped himself out of his self placed trance, leaving the training dummy unscathed. This one, the man thought to himself. His arms slacked as he stood straighter, but more relaxed, as opposed to the battle ready stance he had been in beforehand. This one stays. He stared down the scarecrow, clenching his hands into fists. Those who oppose a better world are the enemies of progress. Of change. Of the way that things are meant to be. And they will face the righteous wrath and fury that they deserve. I am a weapon for Jashin and his glory. Not my own. I will deal his wrath upon the wicked. Yoru turned and walked away.

This time when he reached the edge of the circle, he kept walking through the field, towards the Land of Tornadoes. Smoke rose in the distance, probably the aftermath of those bandits. The coarse wheat brushed against him, but he did not pay it any mind. He was simply a traveler being sent on his path through life, offering little resistance when the time did not call for it. In order to be truly be nobody, he has to simply become a ghost. An apparition, wandering through life and leaving many things as they were.

--Exit--

WC: 3810
Claims: 19 stats, Leaf Whirlwind (1250/1250), Leaf Gale (1000/1000), Earth Release: Rock Section Cane (500/500), Body Flicker (1000/1000)

Wed Dec 20, 2017 7:10 am

Approved.

The Seven Deadly Sins [P]

The Seven Deadly Sins [P]

Re: The Seven Deadly Sins [P]