One Step Behind

Forgot to link an A rank and a B rank

Avarash would give a smirk as the teenager introduced himself in much the same way he had before backing up five more meters to make the distance between them a total of ten. The lazy man would take note of the appearance change in the boys eyes before the man lifted the hand at his max speed of 100 from his weapons pouch and pointed it at the boy from his waist. Slightly leaning the shoulder down as he did so and fired as if it was some kind of old wild west shootout complete with the 'hammer of the gun' coming down and all. The blast of energy fired at the teen would launch from his finger tip at the teens head  at only 25 power but at it’s max speed of 60. The blast would be fired  as he seemed to begin taking note of his environment and before the teenager would begin to form seals. Should the beam of chakra hit Damon it wouldn’t do enough damage to kill him. Just knock him clean the hell out. Unless he blocked it with something of course. Avarash would proceed to wait a moment before beginning to move alongside the beam toward Damon, attempting to use the beam taking up so much space in front of him that it would cover his entire field of vision to close the distance. Of course he would use a more speed to catch up to the beam.  His other hand would draw his blade as he moved to the left hand side of the beam. Keeping himself prepared for anything the red eyed teenager might do. His free hand would begin to form seals at his max speed, preparing to use another jutsu if it was necessary. 


Jutsu used Super Spirit Gun
AP 550 - 30 = 520

520 AP remaining.

Through the visual prowess of his three tomoe sharingan, Damon watched as the man seemed to forfeit without truly forfeiting. The movement of the man seemed slow, his will to fight visibly fading. Perhaps the experienced fighter was simply not enjoying his time as one, his will to fight dying alongside his fame and love of the job. Damon had never heard of this ‘Avarash’ fellow, so it was natural the man had decided to give up the path to glory which Damon sought after, this test of mettle to become a jounin the last hurdle he needed to pass.

The chuunin watched as the fireball collided with the body of the man, his hands slacking as the handseals were never signed, the blade he held clattering to the rough ground below. The kunai thrown by Damon would have hit the ground on either side of the man, preventing an escape that never came. The lowered power of the fireball would not cause too much harm to the man, but it would serve as a two meter wide ball of fire, which would knock the man flat on his back. Approaching the man with a kunai drawn, Damon would crouch down to the man before he could recover and hold the weapon to his throat.

“Concede,” came the simple demand. However it would not get an answer. Instead, the man simply did not have the vitality to withstand a direct blast from the ninjutsu that Damon had cast, but he was strong enough to not die from the simple first degree burns (40 power v 55 health). He seemed to be groaning slightly. “I see… thank you for your time, as short as it was." With that, Damon would motion to a medic or two that had been waiting on standby, requesting them to perform first aid and make sure the man was taken care of. “The injuries weren’t too serious, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

---

WC: 5158
Claiming the hit after 72+ hours, I’ll be back later to finish off the rest of the word count to finish the req.

Damon’s dark eyes scanned the burned body of his opponent. As he thought, there were no signs of consciousness, only a body at rest from what was likely shock. He lowered his brow, studying the young man as the red glow of his Sharingan - the kekkei genkai of his clan - receded, ushering in the greyness of his chakra-less eyes. His pupils folded onto the iris, blending in a cold void. There was conflict brewing within him, an understanding of the situation at hand too fluid to grasp. Was that all?The question did not come from pride nor arrogance. Damon meant it with every fiber of his being. Had he truly progressed since his fight with Yurei Uchiha? Was there really such an improvement?

The eyes of the Uchiha momentarily drifted in consideration of such a notion. He glanced at his calloused hands, tightening them in a test of grip. He found it hard to clasp his palm in on itself, as if suffering from the haze of grogginess. Despite this, however, he found the strength the close his palm completely. The residual force of Yurei’s lightning had perhaps damaged his body, but, obviously, the drawbacks were not forfeiting.

The jutsu he had used weren’t particularly elaborate, nor were they particularly powerful. This had been nothing like his fight with his clansmen, but, rather, something much like the duel that had killed his dog. It was brief, a quiet thing, and, for a moment, Damon considered the prospect of a time passage through adrenaline, that so much more had happened than he thought. Upon recollection, however, Damon found that to be incorrect.

Hmph, he snorted. The chuckle was momentary and fleeting if there at all. Damon received little pressure in such a victory, but it was a victory nonetheless. That was all that mattered to him, right now. Precisely that. The present and where he could go from here, within the expanse of opportunities that would present itself afterwards.

Something changed in Damon’s eyes, questioning his ambitions. What were they exactly? What drove him to compete against this ninja, to test himself? Was it to catch up to Yurei, really? To treat his brother as something of a rival? The two always had something of that sort, but Yurei was not particularly competitive, at least not until recently, when he had truly found his fire. Damon had never seen such a cold passion before, but it burned like a chilling flame, something much different than his own goals, or the goals that had been before he had lost his will, his passion, his drive. His purpose.

Legend… What does that even mean? A more appropriate question was what did it mean now. Truly? Legends seemed to be just that, stories and people that lured mere children into an inescapable hell. What was fun about being a shinobi? Damon had never been in a war, yet he had seen two of his comrades die to his own fellow Hoshigakure ninja. Akio, the Inuzuka, had been slain at the village gates, trying to escape the life Damon lived now. And though the circumstances of his escape were rigid, gruesome, and terrible, the Uchiha knew that the Inuzuka had acted out of fear. No malice existed within that man. None at all. If anything, his dog - Esu - possessed all the spite. That dog belonged to Yurei, now. And despite the scars on his butt, and especially with Akio gone, there was still an attachment the dark-haired Uchiha had to the Great Dane if not a mutual one.

The dog’s survival in of itself was testament to Damon’s anger. Esu was a living, breathing reminder of Akio and his unfortunate demise at the hands of Kenshin Uzumaki, the shinobi from the Village Hidden in the Stars. Or, as it was often called, the city hidden in the stars. Despite what the name of Hoshigakure implied about its population, Damon had never felt this alone before. There was of course Yurei, who was truly his only friend. The dark-haired Uchiha rarely branched out and when he did, it usually turned to misery, death following him like a plague. That was the way of things in this cruel reality, or so it seemed. Shinobi. Legend. It wasn’t anything to aspire to.

Damon stretched his lips thin. And the wolf he had ironically named Akio in memoriam of his departed friend happened to share the same fate. And at the hands of someone who should have been an ally who was unable to control his own power. It seemed this village was in a state of constant disarray and betrayal. The villagers, these religious zealots, represented a sort of imbalance found in this place, Hoshigakure. It was like drinking from a glistening pool of water only to find it stagnant and riddled with bacteria. Hoshigakure was beautiful, but the life he lived here was anything but.

His “father,” or so he called him, fell victim to such. The man who had taken him in, raised him, finally decided to settle in a village after spending years as a roaming merchant. Settling was the biggest mistake the man had ever made, and for what? To die while his surrogate son pursued some childish dream turned nightmare? Guilt filled the Uchiha, resonating throughout his body. Not for this competitor, but for his father. He questioned himself as he had. Was jounin worth the death of my father? The only man other than Yurei who has shown me a home? True empathy and a friendship?

Damon pondered on the thought for a moment. What significance, exactly, did the rank earned in this mission resemble? What did it mean to him? For a long moment, Damon could not answer. There was always that word - legend. It attached itself to his mind, but the Uchiha found so little resolve in it now. Why… do I even exist?His hands were clenched as he tried to look up to the sky. A mere promise to my brother? What is my goal? My ambition? Am I going to be tied down to Yurei for the rest of my life or is there something that I alone want?

Damon struggled to find a goal, a dream. When at one time he found it easy, now it was seemingly impossible. “Legend,” Damon scoffed. Hero. Role model. Shinobi aren’t role models. No one should want to become one. Not one like this. Not an environment like this. Not in this hell.

But that was what Yurei wanted was it not? To change the term? To give life to a childish dream? Did Damon believe in such a thing or was he merely led on by the passion within the boy? Was it even possible?

The Uchiha stood, taking a step back from the defeated opponent. Burns scattered across his body. He had never wanted to do something like this to a comrade before, but now he found himself the problem. The pain he felt now as a shinobi of the hidden stars, he reciprocated it onto others. It was a transfer of pain from one to another, much more than a simply duel in the hopes of a rankup to the rank of Jounin. And in how many instances of his life was that the issue? The problem of the shinobi way of life? His father was killed out of hatred for shinobi, the thing Damon, too had come to resent in a way. The individuals themselves, perhaps. Or maybe it was simply the commonly shared ideology. How much control did ninja have over morality? How much was slowly pushed on them in a cruel indoctrination? Damon gave a cynical smirk. Was this even the case for most shinobi? Or was it something to do with him? Yurei? Were it these damned eyes that made him feel so… cold? Connections were too easily formed with Damon. He avoided so many people because of it. However, breaking those connections, in one way or the other, meant terrible loss, but it was also terrible gain. He and Yurei felt emotion strongly, that much he knew. Those bonds evolved Damon’s visual prowess beyond his highest expectations, but it also allowed him to see more clearly what exactly was wrong with the world.

What would have been a minor dab of paint on an otherwise perfect painting appeared to Damon as a splash that blocked a masterpiece almost entirely. The good parts of the world were obfuscated and unclear, save for a few spots untouched. But recovered what was lost, the beauty the painting once had, could it be done? Could he do it? Could Yurei?

The medical ninja rushed in from the openings of the arena, tracking sand as they maneuvered across the large area. Plums of dust rose from their feet, with others body flickering in almost instantaneous speeds, as if teleporting from one position to another. Damon continued backing away, allowing the medical experts to get to work. Turquoise auras erupted from their hands, allowing them to repair the damage on the opponent’s body that Damon had caused. Were it not for his unconsciousness, he would be in all sorts of pain. Damon knew first degree burns to be one of the worst, sparing the nerve endings that third degree burns did not. The recovery, however, was much more desirable. Though more painful, wounds of that degree healed better and more fully, at least with time or basic medical ninjutsu.

“Just in a state of shock,” one shinobi called out to his cohorts, and, seemingly, to ease whatever worries he assumed Damon had. Though, as a first response, pointing a kunai at someone’s throat likely didn’t appear to be the most empathetic. Damon knew the young man would be fine however, so brushing off his injuries was a rather simple task in terms of guilt, had there been any at all.

What room was there for such things?

Damon’s dark glance shifted around as the doctors kept busy, working on the recovery efforts of the shinobi he had so unceremoniously defeated. His feet parted in the sand, and, surprisingly, there was no one in the audience. None he could see. In the months past, this would have been very displeasing. The chants, the screams, the adoring fans, they were all alluring concepts for him. Were. What legends were there for a shinobi world such as this? Certainly none with any grade of humanity, instead it was quite the opposite. This world couldn’t produce the legends Damon wanted to see. Not what he wanted to be.

But there was someone there that he did want to see. Yurei Uchiha, sitting in the stands. His long, white, and spiked hair drifted in the light Hoshigakure breeze. So he had come after all, and Damon had not even noticed. The dark-haired Uchiha pondered on what Yurei might have seen in the battle here. Certainly not anything too spectacular given the time. In fact, his fight with Yurei had been much more impressive, at least to an outside viewer’s eye. Unless of course what essentially amounted to a swift success was representative of high skill. Damon neither knew nor cared. He was simply glad to have had his brother spectating in his moment of truth.

In a way, Yurei was the only spectator Damon had wanted. His only real friend amidst this dreary mess. The Uchiha nodded to himself, offering a thin smile and then looking down. He would have to speak with the white haired Uchiha later, but this did not empty his friend from his thoughts. The two were linked as brothers and shared a bond known to few. They walked the same path, and, for now, even if the road were to fork, Damon had no qualms taking Yurei’s path alongside his brother instead. Yurei’s goal had to become his, for now. Until, maybe the idea of a legend was plausible, or if something else were to be offered, a new path he’d not considered.

“That was quite the battle,” one of the doctors said, placing his hands over Avarash. “Short.”

Damon nodded, agreeing, “Too short.”

“I’m sure you’ll pass all the same,” the man said assuredly, smiling faintly. “You don’t usually beat someone like that so quickly without at least a little recognition.”

The young man gave a distant nod, trailing off with his eyes. “Hopefully,” he would say, bobbing his head. The prospect of jounin was more alluring than any fame at the moment. It was the pure expression of a talented ninja. Damon cared nothing for the respect the titled came with. Instead, he found himself hesitant to even consider what the other shinobi or even villagers thought of him. Ultimately, however, he found himself not quite caring. There was no sense in trivial things such as that. All that mattered was the rank up and assisting Yurei, at least for now. Besides, the villagers of the City Hidden in the Stars were the purest example of opinions Damon could not be bothered with hearing, much less acknowledging.

There was a trace of fear, however, hidden amongst the ambition. What did the rank really mean for Damon? It was practically a spotlight, and, even hidden in the shadows, Damon’s power was to be suppressed, the death of his friend never made known to him, and, thus, his Mangekyou Sharingan never unlocked.

Damon reflected on that night, the night he discovered the truth. He had not been that emotional since the night his father died. Not even Yurei’s resurrection of those horrific events with an accidental genjutsu produced the same sadness. Losing Akio stung in many ways, but, just as they had with his father, he would never known such pain in his eyes until that night. The unlocking of his Mangekyou Sharingan. Even using it now wrought pain and suffering - splitting headaches behind the eyes as if migraines. The pain was splintering. With each activation was the overwhelming return of how each and every single unlocking of his tomoe was achieved. The pain, the desperation, the sadness, the fear. It came flooding back all at once, unstoppable in its surge.

-------

Fire danced, swirling from the recesses of Damon’s mind. It called to him as it had before, beckoning him with the sadness and rage of times long post. It twisted in his vision, contorting his surroundings. The wide arena became claustrophobic, and, though fire erupted around him, Damon felt cold, chilled. He saw darkness amidst the scalding light.

And he saw a man,

“No, no, no, come on, father, stay with me. I need you.”

His voice echoed around him, reverberating around the sprawling and roaring fire which had suddenly become mute. He knew this place. He knew it well, and the memory was sickening to revisit. It was as fresh as it was when it happened. He knew now something he hadn’t before however. That his father was trying to shelter him from this, his bloodline - the Sharingan. He knew the pain it wrought on the user, but he’d also been told to keep Damon from it.  It was inevitable he would, however. It was a wonder any Uchiha did not unlock the Sharingan in the state of this accursed world. It was the greatest gift Damon had ever earned, yet it was also his greatest pain.

In his dying words, his father had asked for forgiveness. At the time, he didn’t know what it would entail or what it even was that his father had apologized before. No human wished such pain on a child like this, especially no parent. But Damon felt it all the same. He knew it all the same. And it was in this bathing of power that Damon came to forgive his power. Not for the advantages, but because he understood that his father merely wanted his son to be happy. Becoming a shinobi was something Damon had always dreamt about, and now the prospect of Jounin was at his doorstep. Yet it was not as satisfying as he had hoped.

Perhaps if Father were here, now. With Yurei. With Akio. The whole lot of them to celebrate such an achievement.

But he was taken so cruelly. As was Akio.

Fire swelled to sunset, then to the darkness of nightfall. Damon found himself staring at a ragdoll of a man, one bearing imbalanced eyes of blue and red and a skeletal appearance in color and stature - Kenshin Uzumaki. Beside him was Yurei Uchiha. This memory was among his strongest. A revelation. And the shaking of his faith. The lot of it was sickening still. It was a horrible truth, one he still hadn’t come to terms with in full.

So yes… it was I that killed Akio Inuzuka.

The words of Kenshin Uzumaki had bore themselves deep into the very recesses of his mind. No matter what methods Damon would go to, there was no escaping his past. I am simply so detached that I simply don’t care… No escaping what had happened. This world could burn and I would do little more than rejoice... No escaping how his idealistic view of this world had been dissolved into nothingness. Maybe, just maybe, something truly beautiful could be born from its ashes.

The most infuriating aspect of Akio’s death was the lack of caring by anyone in the village. Remember that Akio’s death is classified information, and spreading that information around will result in punishment… Did his parents even know, even after all this time? Did they think their little boy ran away, did they blame themselves, the village, the system, the world, a god? What could the life of a parent be like after losing their only child.

-------

”Excuse me, are you feeling well?” came the sound of a voice that still remained unfamiliar. Startled, Damon turned around and did his best to display a casual demeanor, his mind wandering far away from him. “Yeah, forgive me, I must have spaced out there,” he said with a slight chuckle and a faked smile. I’m just tired of this world, of these people. I’m tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives. ”You should be fine here, feel free to leave the arena when you feel like it. Congratulations on the victory, might I add. Damon gave him a half-hearted smile. Truth be told, it does not feel like a victory. It’s far too hollow.

With that, Damon left the arena, his ‘battle’ over as quick as it had begun. His feet patted against the loose sand and ground, and, as he stepped through the large doors, he turned to face Yurei once more. The White Uchiha remained where he had been, now watching Damon claim his victory with a departure. The dark haired Uchiha then nodded, giving the slightest sign of confirmation, though, for Yurei, he meant much more than his body opted to show.

Wandering through the streets of Hoshigakure, the sun would have risen since he had been up around the dead of night to dawn. He looked towards the sun, shielding his eyes from its harsh rays. Was this the dawn of a new version of himself? How much would this promotion and the responsibility that came with it change him? Yurei had already been a jounin for who knew how long. Time passed slowly in the village hidden in the stars, each moment dragging on and further draining Damon of his will to continue. With those around him consistently being persecuted and killed, this city was a constant reminder of hatred. The religious zealots who had killed his parents, the scarred monster who had slain his friend in cold blood, and the inexperienced shinobi who cannot control their own power to prevent them from killing his summon. He had stayed away from the wolves out of guilt for what had happened, but perhaps he would visit them again later. He needed to explain what had happened and express his remorse for partially being responsible for the death of one of their fiercest members.

The boy meandered throughout the streets of the city, citizens bumbling about on their own day to day business. What else was there to do? He had fought an opponent who had lost his muse, now what? Damon’s eyes shifted from side to side, watching each citizen of the City Blessed by the Stars passing by. The sun beat on his fair face, but it bore no warmth, no embrace that he had longed for. Instead, it was a cold light. An illusion of something not really there, a hologram trying to convince him of its place in reality. There was no such truth in that, however.

Damon’s sandals trekked across the Hoshigakure sidewalks, lightly clanking against the concrete beneath his feet. Everything he did lacked effort or drive. It was like he was driving a machine called himself, like he wasn’t alive but commanding his body forward, an outside force acting on something he had little connection to. The Uchiha passed several buildings, finally coming to the shinobi offices. He hadn’t come here often, usually just to receive and complete missions. Little was different with this, and yet, with each of his prior assignments, the Uchiha carried with him substantially more conviction. Here, it was emptiness.

Upon entering the facility, Damon was greeted with the cold air of the offices. It was a comfortable environment, but, even putting his current “rut” to the side, he could never work here. It was too quiet, comfortable, and unexciting. The boredom would drive him mad. It was disheartening twist, however, that even the battle, where he could truly showcase his skill as a ninja in the various forms of jutsu, carried with it the same level of excitement he carried with him now.

But Damon did not miss that desire to showcase his talents. It passed like a scattered shower, once raging with a swirl of rain and lightning, and now gone, with an empty ray of sunshine cast upon him. A cold feeling in warm light.

The woman at the counter was humble enough, wearing modest clothes and sporting tied, yellow hair. The glasses she sported hung low on her nose, begging helplessly to be pushed up. ”Can I help you, sir?”. Wordlessly, Damon slid the paperwork confirming the match results across the counter towards the receptionist, who looked up with a surprised look on her face. “I would like my rank updated based on this. I’ve recently completed the Jounin exam.”

The girl’s eyebrows rose, prompting her jade glasses to fall from her nose. She quickly grasped them, pushing them against the space between her eyes. She cleared her throat and nodded, looking down at the paper. ”Oh, I see! Well, congratulations! I’ll go ahead and process it.”

Damon nodded coldly, drifting his dark eyes from the counter. The difference between them was like night and day. She was perfectly content at her desk job, joyful even. Her appearance in of itself was a stark contrast from Damon’s, she as day and he as night. His dark hair was complemented by the black clothing he wore, whereas this girl wore a yellow dress of sorts, complimenting her blonde hair. Her eyes matched her glasses, a jade color or perhaps an emerald. They reflected in the light above her desk, shimmering with the water glossed over them.

Damon’s eyes were like a void, swallowing any light hitting them. He called himself from the inner recesses of his mind, looking down at the girl once more. ”Thank you,” he’d say half-handedly. His voice was quiet and distant, like a breeze sifting through the sand on an uninhabited beach.

The girl lifted her eyes from the paperwork, looking at the Uchiha with slight concern painted on her face. ”You excited? Must be glad to finally get jounin, huh? It’s a big honor!”

Damon’s eyes trailed into hers, though, for a moment, he did not speak, only offering a nod. He swallowed, clearing his throat. ”Yeah. That it is.”

The girl tilted her head slightly, then rejoined the effort to finish her work. ”I’ve always wanted to become a ninja. But I never had the chakra for it, and taijutsu isn’t really my strong suit. I can barely lift these papers, sometimes,” she laughed, her chuckling trailing off with the silence of the room.

Damon huffed air from his nose, nodding. ”Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s not all fun.”

The girl looked up once more, staring at them inquisitively. There was a curiosity in her eyes, but also a look of disappointment. Like he’d crushed her. She quickly bounced back, however, saying, ”Oh, I’m sure it’s really hard. I like my job here, though. I get to help out in small ways. Getcha that promotion, too,” she laughed, trying to break Damon’s half-heartedness.

The room fell quiet once more, with Damon drifting off into space. The girl pursed her lips, resuming her work. Light began to wane from her eyes, and her excitement slowly faded. Damon leaned against a wall, emotionless. He watched her fill out the forms, grant checkmarks and stamps, and count the pages, but this was only physically. He scarcely knew what she doing, only going through the motions of getting that rank of Jounin. It was crushing, really. More than he let on. Achieving such a prestigious rank, only to desire so little.

Damon’s eyes adjusted, searching for the value in the rank of Jounin. The City Blessed by the Stars offered many things with such a reward. Jutsu, more access to the wealth of knowledge that was the library, and the supposed respect of others.

But what was alluring, what Damon truly cared about, was meeting with his friend - Yurei Uchiha. It was a humble thing, to desire to help his brother rather than to pursue his own ends, but that was what he wanted. It was the promise he had made to Yurei so long ago - to help him change this world. There were, of course, other things. Finding his parents was one such thing. His biological parents. If only to see them and understand why he was taken and set out on this path. They were the origin.

However, it was hardly pressing. They’d not served him at all in life, but Yurei - Yurei gave him everything. His time, his friendship, his home, his food, knowledge, rivalry, and, now, his goal. That was the greatest conviction he possessed - helping his friend as he had done. They were united, brothers, more so than anyone else. They’d set out as the greatest of the Uchiha had before them - to create change for the better. But Damon believed in Yurei as he had believed in himself, as he did now. Despite the village, the pain and suffering, Damon would strive to make it better alongside his friend, the only one there for him now in this lonely abyss called the Shinobi World.

”All done!” the girl said, smiling brightly. ”Here you are, your papers,” she smiled, sliding over the certificates to Damon through the opening in the glass between them. ”And last but not least,” she trailed off, departing from the scene. When at last she had returned, she carried with her a jounin flak jacket. ”Your flak jacket! Congratulations, and wear it with pride!” she yelled, smiling brightly.

Damon gave her nothing more than a nod and a thin smile, departing from the counter with the jacket in had. It was little more than a symbol, offering little protection. And it was for that he did not put it on, instead carrying it with him as he departed from the building. He stepped outside into the cold sunlight, closing his eyes and looking to the sky. This was it, a new chapter.

Part of him wanted to turn back to the beginning of the book and stay there. But this was a time of change. No one would ever conclude a story in a way such as that, and there needed to be endings for better or for worse. But now, jacket in hand, Damon felt something. A fire in his otherwise cool body that had gone out in the exam. It was back again, rekindled with a new purpose.

--Exit--
WC: 10,060
Claiming: S rank mission complete, 15 AP, 5000 ryo, Jounin and everything that comes with it, Gen Spec (3000/3000), Tsukuyomi (3750/3750), Susanoo (3310/3750) all using max stats discount

Approved.