Violins at Sunrise (P, Asami)

It was early morning throughout the mist veiled village as the sky slowly turned from black to a deep purple. The sun was slowly beginning to peak it’s way over the horizon to bring it’s warmth and light to the citizens of the world. As the great body continued it’s ascent the mist found throughout the village did a peculiar thing. As the rays of the sun’s light caught the vaporous substance it took on an orange tinge. Making the entire world around them seem almost as if it was engulfed by a cool fire. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold if one was awake at such a time. The alarm clock of Ezrael had gone off quite a while ago. The shower was long since off, a light breakfast eaten. He stood now in the middle of a street level room within his home. This room having large vertical windows allowing the world to see within if they so desired. Each one was open, allowing the fiery mist to lazily move in and out of the room passively. The blonde haired teenager was dressed in his preferred attire. A light purple dress shirt, buttoned up properly with a dark purple vest. His khaki’s were belted off and his normal beige steel toed boots were currently replaced with a pair of simple brown dress shoes. 

His blonde hair was dry and simply sitting normally, as it always did. Some of his bangs framing his face as his blue eyes checked the instrument he held within his hands. His hands methodically running over it, tuning it properly, making sure each and every bit of his favorite violin was properly clean and in working order before he smiled to himself. He’d draw up the bow, holding it expertly in his hands as he set the engraved chestnut brown instrument to face and resting the left hand side of his jaw against the chinrest. His left hand was on the fingerboard, also holding the instrument up under its neck, and he slowly brought the bow across the strings. A calm, thin sound would resonate throughout the room and out of the windows as he began to play the instrument. It would slowly rise into an eloquent, introspective sound. A slow, rhythmic playing in the early morning as the run rose above the horizon. Oh how he loved this time. It was peaceful, relatively quiet, with the exception of his playing of course. It truly was a wondrous way to start the day in his eyes. 

He’d continue to play this slow tune for a while, until he could see others beginning to move about their day. Life in this country tended to start early, as boats needed to get to the water for fishing, shinobi needed to get to training. Teachers had to get to schools early and parents roused their children out of bed to attend such an institute. So Ezrael was not in any way worried about ‘waking’ someone up by accident. If anyone did had a complaint, he would of course stop immediately. Most however seemed to quite enjoy his morning practice. It was why he left the full sized windows open. As he moved through his playing he began to play something a bit more vibrant. The promise of a new day, a good day for any who would strive for it to be as such. He would continue with this type of music for awhile yet. The intent of lifting the spirits of those who could hear it the forefront of his mind. 

WC: 597

Blood, blood everywhere.

It dripped from her brow like sweat, stained her once pristine clothes a bright crimson, and stung her nose with its harsh metallic tang. Running her hands up and down every inch of her body, Asami searched for a wound; there had to be a wound, with this much blood there had to be. The sound of her heart pounded in her ears as she searched, but as she ran her hand over the small of her back for what must have been the fifth time the horrifying reality set in: there was no wound to be found. The young genin’s arms fell limply to her side and she tried to take a breath only to find that all she could do was sob.

It wasn’t her blood.

Tears mingled with blood and soon her nose began to run creating a sickening soup of mucus, tears, and blood, which ran down her face and dripped onto the ground. She cried and cried for what felt like hours as she gazed into nothingness. And perhaps she would have continued to cry for many more hours had the soft gurgle of what sounded like a newborn child not drawn her out of her fit. It was a sound that sounded both familiar and out of place, like a memory that had long faded with time—she couldn’t quite put a name to it, but she had heard it before.

Everywhere she looked, however, there was only inky blackness to be seen. Yet, still the gurgle persisted; if anything it had become louder. Wiping her nose and taking a breath to steel herself, Asami spoke in a voice hoarse from crying.

“W-where are you?”

“You…know…where…I…am,” responded a weak voice that sounded as if came from underwater. “You…know”

Blinking through her tears, the small girl’s gaze followed the sound until it came to rest on the ground at her feet. What waited for her there was a horror show of mangled limbs and blood. Hidden amongst the pile of gore sat a head; a human head that at one moment looked like Hayate, then Kether, then Hikari, and then that strange woman she’d once met atop the waves. It became painfully clear that the gurgling came from a huge gash in the head’s neck from which blood flowed in a seemingly unending river.

“You...know…”

Clenching her fist, Asami gulped at the feel of cold steel in her left hand, it hadn’t been there before. However, as her gaze rose from the gore to her hand she found a kunai clutched tightly in her hand. Was it really her hand though? It certainly didn’t feel like her hand, it felt like someone else’s, but sure enough, her hand opened when she told it to.

The clang of metal on the ground was soon replaced by that of a roaring crowd. The blackness that had once surrounded her gave way to a vast arena with a monstrous crowd high on bloodlust. Asami fell to her knees; this was the blood games, this was what awaited her. The crowd became louder and louder until it rose to an unbearable crescendo.

BEEP! BEEP!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!!!

The unmistakable sound of her alarm clock ripped Asami from Morpheus’s cool embrace. A cold sweat covered her whole body and the sound of the frenzied crowd still filled her ears. Groping for the alarm clock she turned it off, took a ragged breath, and went to the bathroom.

As she examined herself in the mirror she let out a breath another deep breath. There was no blood to be found. It had all been a dream, a horrible awful dream and nothing else.

An hour later, a freshly showered Asami stepped out onto the streets of Kirigakure. Sporting a light blue sweatshirt and a pair of gray sweatpants over black tights, she looked exceptionally normal—her village headband remained at home. Her parents were away on business and she had the day off, which left her in charge of breakfast for herself and, well, her cooking was less than stellar. So, she made her way down to the market district.

Snagging herself an orange chocolate chip scone from one of the local bakeries, Asami wound her way through the village and towards the docks. Today was a rare day, the sun actually pierced through the mist and past the massive storm clouds that stood as sentinels to the village and the young genin intended to enjoy it. Skipping from rooftop to rooftop she would have arrived at the docks in a matter of minutes. Yes, she certainly would have had a sound not halted her advance.

No, 'sound' wasn’t the right word for it, it was a melody. A sweet yet sharp melody that rose and fell over the Mist village in waves of harmonious sound. It was a melody strong enough to bring Asami to a stop on the rooftop across from its source. Perching herself atop the gently sloping roof of a neighboring house, she gazed through the two open windows and at the blonde musician therein.

Nibbling at her scone, the girl’s head swayed back and forth with the music like some human metronome. She’d grown up with music and the blonde wasn’t half bad. It never occurred to her that all the musician would have to do was look out his window to catch a glimpse of his silent voyeur. After all, Asami had long lost herself in the music and began to hum to herself ever so softly—even the horror of her earlier dream fell from the fore only to be replaced by the purity that was music.

Thus far, Kirigakure had clearly failed to sharpen her edges.

TWC: 952

The young man’s eyes would remain closed as he continued to play whatever came to his mind. A small dance would begin, just some simply spinning around on his feet as he continued to play. He loved this time of day, he simply couldn’t get enough of it. He would continue his playing for what seemed like hours. Reality however, would show him that it was truly only about a half hour. ‘The wonders of getting lost in the moment I suppose.’ He would think as he felt his stomach growl. The grumbling noise echoing out in what would now be silence. “Strange, I made breakfast a bit ago. Although it was rather light. Maybe I should make something real quick.” He would say to himself in contemplation. A small smile would adorn his face as the blonde haired male would begin to move toward his windows to close them. His little morning show would be over, and the open windows were letting the mist in. He start at one end of the room and begin to pull them closed, they were tall enough that he could do it as if they were a door. 

He’d work his way down only to notice someone outside on his neighbors roof. Provided she was still there after his playing had ended of course. She looked to be a couple of years younger than him, almost a foot shorter than himself with black hair in a bob cut. Pale skin and happily munching on a scone. A small laugh would filter out from Ezrael’s throat as an infectious smile made it’s way onto his face. Someone was listening. That alone made him extremely happy. Provided the girl was in fact there he would speak up enough for her to hear him. “Good morning, I’m Ezrael, and from what I can tell about where you’re standing, you were listening to my playing. I hope you liked it. I was going to make myself something to eat, would you like anything? You’ve made me very happy by listening so it’s the least I could do.” He would say with his smile never leaving his face. Blue eyes would be looking into what appeared to be light blue? Gray? It was hard to see her eye colour when she was on the roof of the next house. But if she decided she wanted to join him he’d simply make room at the window opening for her to enter through there. The damn things were big enough for it after all. 

Of course she could simply decide to say ‘No, the creepy blonde guy smiling at me from within his home asked me food. I’m good’ and decline. He wouldn’t exactly blame the girl. But he wanted to thank her for being his audience somehow, and  a scone wasn’t an actual breakfast. So he figured he could do so with this. So he’d simply wait for her to answer. The sunrise  had finished a bit ago at this point. The oranges fiery glow reflecting off the mist within the village had slowly dissipated. Leaving the village looking a good deal more plain. It was a shinobi village, it wasn’t meant to be some drop dead gorgeous town. But to function efficiently in a time of war. 

WC: 549
TWC: 1146

Dance had always held an important place in the Miyamoto household. Well, to be more exact it held an important place for a majority of the household. Kenchi, Asami’s father, had two left feet and couldn’t tell a tango from a waltz. Ai, Asami’s mother, on the other hand, had grown up dancing and she passed her passion for the art form on to her daughter. At first, it had been the more traditional Noh Mai dances that she taught Asami, but they soon progressed to other more popular partner-based dances. It kept the young girl light on her feet, allowed her to spend time with her mother, and gave her a better understanding of the culture that grew up around the varying dance forms—it was your quintessential win-win-win scenario.

So, suffice to say the spellbound genin knew a structured dance form when she saw it and what she saw through the double windows was anything but structured. Its lack of structure, however, gave the violinist’s movements a certain purity that Asami could appreciate. She knew all too well what it was to lose oneself to music. The way the dips and rises in the music commanded one’s body to move was intoxicating. She had tried to explain the sensation to others more than a few times, but each and every time they’d given her a strange look. They didn’t understand. This boy, however, clearly understood the unspoken spell of music—she could see it in the lazy circles he moved in.

Unfortunately, like any good spell, music always came to an end and the boy’s violin performance was no exception. It tapered off with a sad squeal leaving Asami with a small void in her heart that craved a continual stream of music. The blonde boy then said something to himself, but from where she sat the young genin could only make out a few words, something about ‘breakfast real quick’. With the music done, her scone nearly gone, and her stomach demanding a more substantial breakfast Asami turned to go. Indeed, she would have been halfway to the nearest restaurant had a voice not pulled her attention back to the violinist and halted her hunger-fueled retreat.

Ezrael? What kind of name is that?

“It wasn’t half bad, you’re pretty good with a violin,” she admitted with a nod before dropping down from the roof with the clap of sandals on stone. “Your dancing could use some work though. What kind of food did you have in mind?”

Her voice had become a mix of genuine curiosity and justifiable suspicion as she approached the windows. Ultimately, however, she stopped short of entering the house by a few paces and stood there with her arms crossed loosely across her chest as if ready to judge the boy’s response. Even as a Kunoichi she had learned the importance of stranger danger. Though, that said, the boy seemed harmless enough if a bit older than herself. Plus, with all the arrogance of untested youth, she felt confident she could handle herself if need be. After all, she was, in theory, a trained killer, what did she have to fear from anyone? Nevertheless, she waited for a response before acting one way or the other and in the meantime hastily devoured the last of her scone in a single bite before re-crossing her arms.

She really should have gotten two scones.

TWC: 1521

The dark haired girl would land in front of his window, opting to wait outside of it. To the blonde haired male he figured this would be an interesting scene to any random passerby. The girl standing outside the guys window with the guy wanting the girl to come in. It was almost like some bad teen movie role reversal. But that was hardly the point now was it? He would note the comment on his dancing and give a small smile. “I hardly pay attention to my own dancing when I’m the one playing the music. I just kind of aimlessly move with the music.” He would say with a shrug as he leaned on the side of the window frame. Arms crossed, a small smile never leaving his face. He rather enjoyed meeting new people. It was always a new experience for him no matter who it was. However she did ask a good question, what should he make for breakfast? An omelette? Something a bit more filling and western like a large breakfast of eggs, biscuits, gravy, and bacon? Something a little more traditional like miso soup, fish, fermented soy beans, with steamed rice? The blue eyed teenager did not care regardless so he figured he would let her choose. 

“Well, I can cook all kinds of things , from omelettes, to big filling breakfasts, to simple and traditional meals. So I suppose it’s up to you. You would be my guest after all. So it would be rude if I invited you to breakfast and forced a certain meal on you. What would you like?” He would ask with a slightly raised eyebrow in curiosity. A moment would pass before he would hear someone calling out to him from the street, which was clearly visible from their position. He would turn his head and see his neighbor waving at him as if to greet him before walking off to go about their day. He’d return the wave with one of his own. ‘Oh look, someone who saw her with me last. I suppose that might stop any thoughts about me being some kidnapper’ He would think as he considered what he had done. Indeed randomly calling out to someone standing outside your window staring at you and inviting them in for breakfast certainly wasn’t what most people would consider.. Smart. But hey, we all have our moments. Of course if the girl decided to give him enough trust to come on in he’d move away from the window to let her in. Closing it behind her after she entered. 

At that point it would simply be a matter of what she felt like eating. The quick devouring of her scone told him that she was hungry. Maybe she was into sweets? He could do pancakes or waffles too. But he would keep quiet and wait for her response before answering. Best not to be rude after having already asked a question. 

495
TWC: 1641

Not paying attention to one’s own dancing?

Asami cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy, the violinist wasn’t making sense. How could anyone not pay attention to what they were doing? She could still remember the countless hours spent going through the same motions over and over again. Her mother would consistently point out a flaw in her stance and how she wasn’t holding her body correctly. Of course, her mother critiqued her daughter with good intentions; Asami never felt put down by her own blood. Instead, it was a gentle yet unyielding prodding towards perfection. Perfection required an attention to the details and a willingness to spend time tweaking what an untrained eye would call trivial. That was what perfection meant and that was why the young genin had a bit of difficulty understanding not paying attention to one’s dancing.

Sure, she could appreciate losing oneself in the music, but not falling into ‘aimlessness’ as the boy called it. Oh well, she learned long ago that not everyone appreciated the art of dance. Perhaps this boy was one of those people? Or maybe, probably more likely, he had never spent the time required to really understand dance.

Aimless dancing. Crazy, right?

Luckily, for both her and Ezrael, the boy changed the subject to food, something Asami was much less picky about. In fact, it seemed to her that she would be willing to eat everything the boy listed. However, when it came down to it, she knew exactly what she wanted, pancakes. She’d grown up with pancakes every Sunday morning. Kenchi, Ai, and herself would sit down together, eat breakfast, and talk about life. Her dad would always speak about the sea, her mother about the garden, and Asami about whatever it was she was learning in the academy. So, in this way, pancakes always brought back not too distant memories. And, if said pancakes had chocolate chips in them? Well, then all the better.

“Hmm…Panca—” Asami started to say before she was interrupted by another voice.

“Good morning!” A nearby neighbor called out with a wave.

Much like Ezrael, the young girl allowed her gaze to wander to the elderly neighbor and for some reason, her face flushed red. The way the neighbor looked at the pair made the girl feel…feel wrong. Something felt off, she felt the judgment in the old man’s eyes. Yes, she could see, but she didn’t understand it and it worried her more than she could put into words. When the violinist looked tried to look back at where Asami had once been he would find her missing and the slap of sandals fading in the distance.

The moment she bolted, however, the uneasy feeling she had felt before was replaced by guilt. Guilt for leaving the boy standing there, he didn’t even know her name. She wanted to turn back, but her legs brought her ever further away.

What was wrong with her?

It had to be the dream, it still haunted her. Her emotions went this way and that like some erratic random walk. One moment she felt like stepping into a strange boy’s house and the next she felt like running away with her tail between her legs, like a child. Indeed, perhaps that was the thing that she had yet to fully grasp, she was still very much a child.

Yes, just a young naive child, nothing more.

She still had a long way to go before she could truly call herself a shinobi. Sure, she had the headband and did the missions, but that was not nearly enough. There had to be something more to become a shinobi beyond the trappings of rank. She lacked the mentality, the sharped edge, and the killer instinct. By all counts, she was a failure of Kirigakure. After all, what kind of Mist shinobi could not draw blood without losing their lunch? Yes, she was far from the ideal shinobi and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that, but would never admit it. Admitting failure was the last thing she ever wanted to do as she'd be seen as weak and the weak in Kirigakure were culled by the merciless hand of war and combat.

Oh well, she could drown her quiet fears in another scone or three.

[Exit, TWC: 2230, +11 stats and claiming 2230 words towards shuriken shadow clone.]

Approved