Actualization [Solo]

Everything hurt. It was difficult to find a comfortable position to lay down in, let alone deal with the process of waking up. The pain was enough to make the annoying buzz of the alarm clock seem dull by comparison. The claxon continued to drone on, and all the while, Yuuma could only stare up at the blank of his ceiling as he listening to the machine vibrate and chirp on the table beside his bed. It is not as if the snooze button was out of reach, he just simply didn't want to summon the energy to turn it off. Had it not been for the neighbor angrily pounding on the wall after an hour had elapsed, Yuuma might have been content to let the machine go much longer. Alas, the sensibility to be a good neighbor outweighed the shock of realizing just how thin the walls were. A resentful grunt issued from the young man as he lifted his arm to silence the device. "Well. I've come this far." He thought to himself, deciding that if he could move at least his arm, he might as well get out of bed.

The morning shower only served to remind his nerves of the dull, achy throb they would grow accustomed to as the day went on. A green light would emit from his hand, throwing light through the was room in a ghostly green that would give off the same sense of a cheesy horror movie. Gently running the hand over his wounds, he would do his best to apply the weak, pain-killer jutsu to his wounds in an attempt to at least make the day a little easier. Cleans, dried, dressed in a fresh set of mono-colored clothing, Yuuma was ready to begin his day. Luckily there was no academy today, and only a bit of work. The last bit of work he would need to do to make rent. Grabbing up his carefully tapped back together headphones, he'd begin playing his typical traveling cassette. A jazzy bossa nova would begin to play in his ears as he opened the front door to see if there was anything out front. 

At one point, Yuuma had spent a morning cleaning cake from his shoe as he had ruined a gift from his neighbor a few doors down. Mrs. Deji. A sweet older lady. Yuuma had helped her vacuum and dust the places above waistline when her back had hurt, and ever since then, he would get a knock at his door with a request for some mundane task. Yuuma didn't mind. He never had much to say on the matter, and it was nice to listen to the stories she shared while he worked. Despite his request to stop leaving her thank you gifts on the ground, it seemed Mrs. Deji was set in her ways. And thus began the morning ritual of checking the front door, just in case Mrs. Deji left him something. It was not so much a yearning for gifts, as much as it was a safety precaution for his shoes.

Nothing today.

The morning air was Yuuma's favorite part of the mornings. It was crisp. Cold. Almost painful to inhale. But more importantly, it was the only thing that was exactly the same as home. Whatever that was anymore, aside from a smoldering heap. Ah well. One foot in front of the other was what got him this far, and it's what would now carry him to work. Few people walked the streets this early in the morning. Farmers, maybe, if there were any in town. People running town news preparing to distribute the local going on's of the day. Local business putting in to have their deal of the day shouted out, and special sale times announced to those who pass by the busiest parts of the city. Every so often, he might see some on dressing in a suit. But most importantly, the guard patrols that walked the city. Some in pairs, others in a group and rarely alone. It was fascinating to the would-be ninja. His home didn't have anything like that. Admirable work. Where they all shinobi? They didn't look like it...but how does one tell? They all wore some manner of sash with the city symbol on it. Most people paid the guards no mind, but some would smile or wave to them, despite a typical lack of response. 

Yuuma spent his extra time before work usually with a work out routine in order to fulfill requirements for the exam he had the option of taking. Today, however, was alotted to recovery thanks to the decisions he had made from the night before. Still, the exams were on his mind. He was certain he had learned enough to at least take a shot at one. But would he bother to do so? The words of the men last night echoed in his mind. Such hate. Such anger. They discarded their goal in lieu of taking out their frustration on one who might have even been pretending to be a Shinobi. Was this typical? Perhaps the ninja life wasn't for him. If there was a time to decide such a thing, it was certainly before he went forward with any exams that would give him an official ranking. Amidst all this, he felt a tug at his heart for the work he had put in. For the example that had been set by the ones that pulled him away from that caravan. He had long since reasoned that, while at the moment, Yuuma would have preferred to have stayed and even died to protect his sister, so too must have that man felt anguish at knowing that he must stay while his companions fled to guard the others. Yuuma wasn't even totally sure the fate of that person. He had not seen them again. Perhaps they, too, had died.

"While you were too busy being useless, no doubt." A voice in the back of his head whisper from the dark.

The morning trip to work was a short one, thankfully having not lived far from his place of work. The markets were beginning to put out their stalls that they might begin filling with their wares in the hopes of catching the early morning rush of people doing small bits of shopping before their own day begins. Parents getting snacks for their children's lunch or workers pre-emptively grabbing something for lunch later in the day so they didn't have to waste time traveling on break. Forward thinkers often found themselves with an abundance of access to early morning goods, and those eager to make a buck had decided that it was worth getting up early to cater to the crowd. For someone like Yuuma, who was only a line cook, it meant cleaning. Cleaning, preparing for early meals, making sure the utensils were prepared, and the stations were serviceable. It was glamorless work were he didn't get to interact with anyone but the other member of the early morning crew, who was busy making sure the front of the house was cleaned, organized, menus prepared and utensils cleaned and ready. Usually, Yuuma enjoyed the peace and quiet. The mundane work that would allow him to retreat into the recesses of his own inner thought. A tranquil sanctuary he had built for himself. Usually.

"This sort of work suits you, Yui." Came that voice once more from somewhere in his mind. Typically, his sanctuary was well cared for and maintained. But now, a spider sat somewhere upon the webs it had spun in the upper corners of his mind. "Don't have to think. Don't have to care. All you have to do is quietly work and feel sorry for yourself." It was hard to explain how the thoughts of a spider, something so small, were so invasive to his line of thought. A pressure felt like it began to gather behind his eyes as he went about his work of sorting which tools went where. "It's easy to say you've had it rough, isn't it. You don't have to go above and beyond anything, you've had it rough, right?" The voice crooned. Yuuma wasn't sure when he had started breathing so heavily. Perhaps it was something in the air of the room. A powder of some sort making it more difficult to breathe. "All that work and nothing to show for it but some fresh scars. You aren't even half of what they took you for, and you still go your ass beaten. Maybe you do deserve to be in this kitchen, toiling away while others enjoy the fruits of your labor." The room around him became hazy, a dull ringing heard in his head. Even the sensation of the water over his hands as he washed a dish was numbed out by the intense focus on the exchange of thought in his head.

"Enough."

"Sad. Angry. Useless. Like an animal on display."

"Enough!"

The shout had covered another sound. One that he wouldn't register until he looked down at his hands with focus, the ringing slowly fading as sensation returned to his feet and hands. The spider had been squished. Looks like he was figuratively cleaning his shoe anyway. His hand only held a portion of the plate, now cracked, dripping a steady drop of crimson into the running sink, being washed down the drain by the running water. His sanctuary was quiet once more. Now he bled for something different. Something strange aligned in his mind. Pain, be it as it may, is universal. Whether this came from the fist of someone he opposed, or the shards of broken porcelain now gripped between his fingers. And what's more important is this pain was weak and temporary. The scars along his hands, his face, and the bruising on his ribs. All of this would fade, and long after it had, Yuuma would only be weaker of mind to let these things continue to stand in his way. These phantoms. Ghosts of feelings that existed for only a moment.

Setting the shards down, Yuuma took in a deep breath. A stark contrast to the turbulence his mind experienced a moment ago, a still quiet now filling his mind and space. These revelations made clear his path forward, his desires no longed forked by uncertainty. Even when his boss rounded the corner, spotting the youth waving a ghostly green chakra over the cut, he was not disturbed by her shock. "Yuuma!" Came a female's voice from the door. "Are you okay? I hear something break." Naturally, he intended to pay the few Ryo the plate had cost, but this was not the first thing on his mind.

"Sorry boss." He spoke back clearly, though quietly. "I think I am going to need the day off."

-Exit-

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