[Private] Shibata deals with family issues

Shibata Nara had not known the kind of day today would be. Shibata did not know that he would be receiving the two biggest chunks of news in his life that day; had he been privy to the gravitas this day would hold, he probably would have spent it doing something more dramatic. He probably would have spent it doing something different. He would have spent it differently than repeating the same boring routine with only minor changes. He would not have wasted the day away in the park, smoking his cigarettes, staring at the sky, shooting the breeze with random people throughout the village. He could not have known that this was his last chance to do so much, with someone so close to him. He could have spent the day with his father, doing the things they would always do. Always is used very lightly in that thought Nara self-reflected. Truth is Nara had barely been spending time with his father ever since he became a Genin. “Oh, sorry pa, can’t go to the fair today, I got some important shinobi business to take care of,” he would say, lying through his teeth. Nara didn’t blame himself for this before this day, after all it was just a white lie, sounded a hell of a lot better than, “Hey pa, I don’t want to go to the fair with you, not now, not ever. What I want to do is go outside, alone, smoke, and stare at the clouds as they pass me by. If I would want any company it certainly would not be that of you, I’d want some younger lady by my side. That would be nice, not hanging out with you, you miserable sack of bones.” Thinking about how many times he almost said this made Shibata feel bad, after all, his father was just trying to be kind. He could have gone to the fair with him this day, not that it was open, but the gesture would at least mean something. He could have joined his dad for one more hunting trip, using the shadow imitation jutsu his father had taught him, and the younger Nara had now mastered, they could have gone into town together and toured the market, Shibata knew his father always liked bargaining prices, even if he came out without the best deal. They could have, if he knew what today was, he would have done something, anything, it didn’t matter what, with his father. He could have spent it with one of the other Shinobi or Kunoichi, training, probably some big time Uchiha. That would have been appropriate now that he thought about it, in the way things panned out. Some young Uchiha could bring a sort of brotherly rivalry to things. How close that was to the truth, it’s almost painful. 
The day started like most, the struggle to get out of bed. Took a good three or four tries before Shibata was finally able to muster up the willpower to get out of bed. He got up, got clean, got dressed, and got ready to get out of there. He noticed a note left at the kitchen table in the hunting cabin, left there by his father. It read, “Going to the village today, will be home tonight by supper.” Shibata’s father had been going to the village a lot more frequently as of late, at a pretty consistent schedule too. Two days every week he would make the journey into the village from the cabin, always before Shibata got up, and always until right before supper. When pressed about this, the elder Nara said that it was simply because his deer hunting was so successful, he had to take a shipment of antlers into the village twice a week, and that it was a good thing. Shibata knew this to be a lie as he noticed that some weeks, at an increasing frequency, there would be no deer caught by his father. He didn’t spend enough time with him to eliminate or create any other options based off of actual evidence. He postulated on his walk to the village what it could be. The only thought that could come to mind that Shibata could stand to continue thinking about was that the old man finally moved on from the mystery that was his mother, and learned to love again, maybe he had a mistress in the village. Shibata thought what it would be like to finally have a maternal figure in his life. It would probably just mean more rules, and one more person telling him what to do all the time, what a drag. Then again, maybe she would be someone chill, maybe she would relax the old man, maybe they’d finally let Shibata drink with them. Shibata started dreaming about the colossal stash of booze she could bring to the house, and how even if they wouldn’t let him have any, how he could sneak some out and no one would be the wizer. He started to think about the negative “What if?”s as well. He thought what if she strung up the old man something fierce, or tore his heart up again. Shibata wasn’t sure the old man could take that again, pretty sure the shock would kill him dead. That’s always how Shibata thought the old man would go, a heart attack. Shibata would always tease about it, and it would usually get him riled up something fierce, but now he just laughs. Guess that started about the same time as the geezer would go into the village. 

When the younger Nara reached the village, his thoughts immediately shifted, he pulled out a cigarette and started smoking as he approached the mission board. On the way he noticed something weird was happening. Whereas previously people that would move around him in the busy streets used to just kinda form a blob in his eyes and mind, an amalgamation of a crowd, now they all stuck out as individual people. He noticed his eyes looking over each and every person on his way to the board, studying their clothes, studying their faces, studying their mannerisms, and all subconsciously. He knew that something was up, but choked it up to “hormones or something.” He reached the board and looked over the D ranked and E ranked missions, those he knew he could do by himself. “The amount of people who lose their dog in this village, you’d imagine they’d get better collars,” “Oh, they want an escort, eh, maybe next time, I’ll let someone else handle that.” Shibata looked through them all, and to all he passed them up. He just wasn’t in the mode that day to do any of the same old boring missions. He ventured over to the training grounds, maybe he’d train for a bit, maybe he’d find someone to train with. Empty. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen this place deserted, but every time it killed a little part of him on the inside, hit him right where it hurt. He knew that there was a problem in the village, so few people were training, but what was he doing to fix it, sitting in the grass and smoking? However much he possibly trained, he was always a sloth in his own eyes, and it was never good enough. It was never good enough if it was just him, because when it was just him he was having no impact. He wasn’t changing the village for the better, he was changing himself for the same. This thought caused Shibata to give up on the idea of training for the day, so he decided to waste away the day in the same way he did most others. He picked out a nice spot by the training grounds, and just stared at the sky all day. Lunch time came, and although his stomach roared at him to get moving and get something to eat, Shibata just laid there, as much as his body may have told otherwise, he was not hungry, he did not want to eat. What he wanted to do was waste away in the grass he laid in. That way, his spirit could finally escape to the sky he dreamt so much about, and his body could be utilized by the soil as fertilizer, and he would finally have an impact on something other than himself. He laid there, wasting away, not a care in the world for 10 hours before he finally decided he should head home if he was gonna make dinner, after all he didn’t want to miss his father’s cooking. That’s all he would admit, the truth to that is that he also didn’t want to miss seeing his father, the one who taught him so much. For all of his grandstanding and his trash talking, Shibata truly loved his father, even if he didn’t always show it. Even though he hated almost every person in a position of power in his life, he could never manage to hate his father, not in a true sense anyway. His words may have betrayed that, but deep down in his heart he had nothing but respect and love for the one parent that took care of him all his life. Those used to be the only things he felt towards him, but that isn’t the case any more.

Shibata decided to take the long route home, he passed by a bunch of different buildings, greeting people along the way. He passed his father’s favorite shopkeep, the guy had this fiery temper and he would always argue till the cows came home on any price, he passed one of the doctors of Konoha’s hospital, he passed the records office, and finally he passed the police station, all who he passed were kind, they all waved back and said “Hi” to Shibata, as well as to pass on their greetings to his father. Shibata didn’t think anything of it at the time, of course he didn’t why would he. This all seemed normal to him. Nevermind that the clerk at the records office had no way of knowing his father, nevermind that the doctor he saw wasn’t the same that always did his father’s check ups, Shibata was not thinking about any of this thoroughly, he was just thinking about how tomorrow was going to be exactly the same as today, he would wake up, maybe see his father, maybe take a mission, maybe train, but most definitely would he plan on taking his time to watch the sky, and smoke. It’s funny, he thought, as he is watching the clouds, he is also trying to create his own. Neat.

At this point he had gotten on the path to him and his father’s cabin in the forest. The thoughts of the day raced through his mind as he was left unsatisfied with his lack of doing anything productive. Eh, I’ll definitely do something tomorrow he thought, something substantive, more than what I did today. I’ll do a mission or train or something. He hadn’t known that tomorrow would be solely dedicated to one task, one event and nothing else. He walked as one unit down a path, holistically, as he had so memorized the path it was as a single step to him. That day, he truly thought he knew all the ins and outs of this world, and especially the path to his house had to offer, he didn’t think of all the unanswered questions in his life. He didn’t think about why his dad had been going, he didn’t think about the uncertain standing of his village in the midst of an impending financial collapse on account of Kirigakure, he didn’t think about how he never knew his mother, about what she might be like, who she might be as a person, what her name could be, where she could have been from. He was too busy thinking about how he might need to steal another carton of cigarettes, as his supply was slowly running out. This thought seemed so pointless compared to the others.
As he traveled the path, he noticed a foreign object. There was something in this path that didn’t belong. Ahead of him, there was a doubled over figure, coughing up a storm and apparently hacking something up. Shibata was not wanting to approach this figure at first, figuring it was either some bandit, thief, low life, highwayman, or the like trying to disguise themself to then stick up whoever approached them, or some old wretch with a terribly awful, and terribly transmittable disease that Shibata was not wanting to catch. It was upon closer inspection that Shibata realized he recognized the figure, it was his father, and that under the light of his lantern, his handkerchief was marbled with large specks of blood. “Pa?” Shibata opened up, the head of the figure quickly turning to him. 

His father, a man that Shibata had always seen as the strong, albeit emotionally vulnerable, head of their small family of two, was so obviously weak, so frail, so, and this disturbed the Rebel Heart, deathly. He rushed to his side and helped him up, leading to the elder Nara letting out a mix of a cough and a laugh, as well as saying, “Well I guess you’d have to know at some point, cough, just wish I had the guts to tell you sooner in all honesty, you see my son I’m dying, doc said I had a week to live seven days ago. Back in the day, when I was a young rascal like yourself I spent a lot of time with a certain woman, she was your mother, her name was Asuka and she was my everything. She, like you, trained to be a great ninja and even got to the Jounin rank, but in her pursuits as a kunoichi she got a lot of enemies, she excused it as something just random about her work, but after one two many nights spent late in our old shed, I suspected something was up, especially after I saw her eyes. It was probably a hallucination, but I could swear by any god damned thing anyone found holy there was something about those eyes that wasn’t the same as when I met her.” He was interrupted with another fit of coughing, this one much longer than the last, after gasping for air he let out a, “Son, long story short cause I ain’t got much time left, but I’m dying, and I thought it best to tell you about mother, she left something for you when she died, but I warn you, she was… she… she didn’t die a natural death, she… was human, she had flaws. What I am trying to mean is that she was a m…” 

“Pa?” Shibata said after the elder nara let out a gasp.

Silence, utter silence for a moment, before being interrupted with, “I thought I had more time…” and with that the Rebel Heart’s father let out one final death rattle before going limp in the arms of his one and only son. Shibata was holding the corpse of his dear dad, in the middle of the forest and was truly alone in that moment, crying his heart out as the one constant in his life was gone. He wailed to the sky before putting the cadaver over his shoulder and hauling his dad to the two’s hunting lodge, once serving shelter for two, but now only one. He looked in the pockets of his corpse to find a letter to the now fatherless son, it took him the night, but he finally read it. The letter read, “Dear son, if you are reading this it means I am dead. God that is cheesy, but it’s true. It means I finally succumb to the poison in my veins for so long. Prolly didn’t tell you till too late, but know this kid. I love you, and even if I ain’t so good at writing things this whole hunting lodge is yours now, and although this is all that I can give you, your mother left  you something as well, it’s under a floorboard under my bed, thought it best to hide there, she didn’t want you to have it till I was gone, hope this finds you the best my son, and hope you can have a better life than either me or your ma did.”

(WC:2,764)

Midthread claim:
Mastery of Shadow Possession Jutsu A rank (2.5k/2.5k) Half hand seals (Meaning handsealless)
Shibata Fails an Alliance
Storage Displacement (500/500) https://www.narutoroleplaygame.com/t25856-storage-displacement
Mystic Palm (58/2500) Mystical Palm [Revamp]
+19 Chakra, +8 speed  (2.7k/2.7k)

Approved of stats claims, please link your jutsu mate

Approved

And so Shibata went to his father's bed, tears cresting in his eyes but not quite falling out of the Rebel Heart's baby blues as he flipped it over, determined to find whatever it was that his father had told him about that had been hiding under the elder Nara clan member's bed for all these years. Something about being his mother's legacy, the mother he never truly got to know, thoroughly intrigued the young Nara clan member to a point where he frantically flipped the bed which his father used to rest in over, and started tearing at the floorboards. He was far too overcome with so many things: curiosity, longing, grief, and the sort of relieved notion when you know so many questions are going to be answered, that his crying never did fully come to fruition, and in this aggravated state he failed to notice how much he was damaging both the floor boards of oak and his own fingernails as he scraped and clawed to pull up the hardwood that blocked him from a future where he knows so much more about his past, so much more about his mother's past, and maybe even her present, Shibata thought to himself, almost knowingly naive about it, with enough self awareness to know this wouldn't be the case. As the genin ripped and tore at the ground above which his now deceased father used to lay, the boards eventually became loose, if they didn't straight up break in half, making it easier for their removal, and after about a half an hour of this visceral display of pure desperation exercised on the poor innocent floors that had done nothing but conceal whatever it was Shibata's mother left for him, and then the assault of the baseboards was halted. There, in the middle of what appeared to be an insane wreckage of a combination of a thrown apart bed, scraps of wooden planks, and a bit of blood from the now thoroughly exposed flesh beneath the once only slightly picked at cuticles of the newly made orphan, at least as far as he could tell, Nara clan member, was an ornately carved box, no more than a foot long and six inches wide, that stood at around another six inches tall. This was a gift for Shibata that the mother he never met had left for him.

And so Shibata approached the box that for all he knew could be an oddly shaped urn for his already dead mother, or a paper bomb rigged to make sure that the progenitor of their race was wiped out to leaver as the last Nara clan member remaining, but that would be frankly absurd, so knowing the incredibly low risk, the Rebel heart picked up the box and opened it, peering inside with a rational curiosity, and taking precautions with an irrational paranoia. As he gazed within the box, the observant shinobi first took inventory of the contents of the strange container, there was an obvious note that dominated most of the surface area that had been tied to a key, with both lying atop 3 scrolls and a book with a strange faded greenish cover decorated with what looked like it had once been a DNA strand, but now was far too much in disrepair to be discerned as anything other than a ladder to the naked eye. As Shibata opened up the book, a puff of dust assaulted his face and throat, spawning a choking cough in his mouth for quite a while before he regained his composure and started reading the title page of the tome his mother apparently had for him as a gift, which seemed to convey a rather simple but important message, as it read, "A Study of Kekkai Genkai and Their Connection to DNA, by Denkiteki," a name Shibata had never heard of, so he flipped to the back of the book. Just barely he could make out the text of a biography and photograph of this "Denkiteki." He appeared to look like somewhat of an average man, and the biography detailed that he was well versed in not only medical jutsu, but also that of space and time, and that he had discovered how to use the DNA of those with certain Kekkai Genkai, to have that same genetic trait manifest in whoever imbued that same DNA in their own body. This made Shibata think about potential things he could do should he have access to this DNA, and a not so friendly voice in his head spoke up, piercing his mind as it injected the thought that, there are some pretty easy ways to get access to some pretty nice abilities if you just make one or two people go missing, after all, it would make you stronger and that's what really matters isn't it, because the stronger you are, the bigger impact you can make, doesn't matter if it's positive or negative now does it, after all, an impact is an impact is it not? Shibata fought hard with his own brain for a moment, attempting to brush off this invasive thought as he continued to look through the mysterious heirloom left to him by his mother, when he saw a small collection of pictures bound together with a plastic spiral.

The young Nara clan member thumbed through the miniature album, finding first an image of his father, must have been 18 years younger and without the massive amount of artificial aging from grief he suffered from his mischievous son, smiling at the camera and giving a thumbs up. He was smiling more than Shibata had ever seen him smile before, which struck the Rebel Heart in a weird way that caused him to pause for a moment, realizing that his father had this unfamiliar happiness that had never been apparent in what Shibata could remember of his life, what could have happened that would prevent him from ever hitting that high again? Was it the boy himself? Was his mere presence having a depressing effect on his father, the one who may have just died being disappointed by his own flesh and blood? Then Shibata had an odd sense of assuredness, as he recalled a more probable explanation for the diminished smile, the dampened happiness, it was his father's wife who had left shortly after the birth of himself, or so Shibata had been told. He continued through the makeshift gallery, flipping to the next picture; it was a baby, not a particularly cure one either, but instead one with a wicked frown and in that moment it hit the Young Nara clan member like a flying brick that he was analyzing the picture of an even younger Nara clan member, who was seen sitting in the lap of what he could only assume was his father, sure had hairy enough legs to be. It made Shibata chuckle that even when he was young he had ridiculous amounts of leg hair, but then it reminded him that his father was now in a permanent state of had, which brought another wave of grief over the recently departed to wash over the just momentarily happy genin.

After finally releasing the first of his tears, a stream started pouring out. No matter what he did he couldn't stop the waterfall. No matter what he did he could never make his father as happy as he was when his mother was around. No matter what he did he could never make his father... well anything ever again. His father was dead and there was nothing left for Shibata to do save for bury the body and continue looking into his perceived inheritance, which was having it's thin sheet of dust washed away by the salty liquid dripping off of the lone Shibata's cheeks. He tried his best to regain composure, but against his own will tears still poured as he again turned to the bound together booklet of pictures of his family, this time it was from a wider angle and captured the little squirt version of Shibata, with his father to the left, grinning as he had been in the previous picture, so sincerely and so enthusiastically, and a woman to the baby Rebel Heart's right. Shibata studied her. He knew it was her mother, of course it was, who else could it possibly be? She was holding up one of the child's arms and grinning in a similar manner to that of the man who appeared to be her husband. Her smile was accented with the same baby blue eyes of her kid, with a red streak of face paint going down either side of her face, and a pair of glasses that went back into a dark brown head of hair done up in a ponytail. She had a lot of the punk aesthetic in clothing and style that could be seen her son, with an attitude to boot that was probably similarly similar to that of Shibata's. This warmed up the young Nara, as his tears stopped solely being the cold droplets of pain, and started containing warm slivers of nostalgia, of some sort of internal comfort for knowing his mother was happy when she was with him.

Smiling, Shibata flipped to the fourth and final page of this little scrapbook to find a picture of just his mother, giving the warmest smile closing her eyes from a sense of such high contentment. She was so joyous, this must have been a gift from her, but why did she leave? She obviously cared for Shibata otherwise she would have left nothing behind for him, but she did, and something so sentimental as well. He decided to keep looking, puzzled as to why she left the book and the three scrolls, which he placed in one of his weapons' pouches, but making sure to place the book of pictures of his family in the interior pocket of his leather jacket as he continued to look through the box. Still remaining was a note attached to a key, and as Shibata looked beneath it and the scrolls, he found a news paper, dated about 17 years ago. Shibata thought since it was higher, he may as well start with the note and key. Shibata unfolded the note and began to read the note.

"Dear my little rice paddy, don't think you're so little anymore. If you're reading this, well, it means that not just your pa is dead but I am too (pre post script post script, you're father made me add that line in, it is so cheesy, but I love him and hope you've been kind to your old man, lord knows I wasn't). I know this is a rough time, but if you're anything like your ma, you are a tough fucking cookie and I think you can handle all this shit, best to get it all out of the way anyway. The thing is, son, I did things not very accepted by society in the name of good, to protect innocents. You see I have always been talented as a kunoichi, even when I didn't apply myself to the best of my ability, and I always wanted to make an impact, but sometimes, there would be this presence in my mind that would make me want to do the most awful things all in the name of self improvement, and I ain't saying making me a better person, I am saying making making me better in a more physical way. Stronger, faster, more versatile, and, eventually, with kekkei genkai. That thirst for power was omnipresent in my mind, and unavoidable everywhere I turned, I knew I had to find a way to handle it, I had to find some way to get rid of it before I harmed someone who didn't deserve it, before I tainted my legacy. So, I did some studying. I'm sure you found the book in the box as well, it taught me all I needed to know, I just needed subjects. The voice told me to get the easiest targets, the vulnerable within the village but my will would not be broken that easily, so I commited to hunting down the worst of the worst, and using them as material for my new hobby. It wasn't long until an Uchiha mob boss got himself wanted for the murder of a kid, and I had my first target. The voice told me to take his body so that I could work with it later, and thus I used those corpse scrolls also found in this container. That's how it started, I would hunt down possessors of strong bloodlines that had done unforgivable acts and shown no remorse for it, then kill them, using their organs to feed the thirst for power while still helping the village, while still leaving an impact, but then, I made the wrong choice for a target; not from a moral standpoint, oh no, the guy was a piece a shit corrupt elder that had connections with organized crime and missing ninja that had organized the destruction of certain members of the tribe for speaking out against him, but instead it was the wrong move as it put me on a one way train to execution. His name was Shinsuke Senju, and he betrayed the village. I used my now more enhanced body and I killed him, with evidence to boot, but his political ties were far more strong than I could have expected. I know you are a baby, and probably won't remember this, but the men are on their way and I have just one last thing to tell you. I found this tablet when I was researching missing ninja of the Uchiha clan, turns out there is some further evolution of the eye, they call it the Rinnegan. It requires the eyes of the Uchiha and the body of the Senju, I never got there, but I hope you can. They are at the door, I have attached a key to the shed I never let you or your father into, I know he wouldn't understand but you might, you might have that awful voice too, I love you Shibata and hope for the best.


~Your mother, Kimura Inuzuka

It too Shibata a moment to take this all in, and he gazed at the newspaper. Shibata's mother had requested that the newspaper announcing her own death via execution, the same paper that called her an enemy of Konohagakure no Sato, the same paper that deemed her a power hungry organ thief, be put in her son's inheritance. Shibata knew that the Village Hidden in the Leaf killed his mother, Shibata knew that his father knew this and never told him. He was denied so much by both parties. He never got to take the lunch his ma packed to his first day at the academy, or have him hug him after the kids bullied him and dumped it on his head. He never got to hear her say that she was proud of him for becoming a genin, or disappointed in him for his smoking packet. The village denied him his mother, they took those opportunities away from him and for what? For her doing her job? For her trying to save lives or get retribution for those unjustly lost? In Shibata's eyes, Kimura's name may have been tarnished, but her legacy, her impact was not, she had been positive and learned to control the side of herself she didn't approve of, and Shibata on that day swore to do the same. He didn't know when but he was going to leave this village, after all, what had it done for him? Killed his mother, that's what. But he wouldn't leave immediately, no, he had business to attend to first, he had a father to bury, and he wanted to host the proper funeral for him that his own mother never got. As he was about to go to sleep he remembered the key and the shed, and so he went, opening it up to reveal a ladder that led to his mother's subterranean laboratory where she experimented on the sickest of the sick and herself. Here he found a table with a pack of cigarettes and a note attached to it. "These have always been my favorite brand, Third Strikes, hope you love em, Mom," and with that the young Nara clan's roller coaster of emotions of a night came to a smiling end as he let out a chuckle before heading to bed, after stashing the cigs in his jacket, of course. Where the pack of ciggies had covered the note, however, there was an additional message, "P.S. flip the photo of me over to see the most recent picture of your mother."

And so Shibata followed the post-mortem directions of his mother, taking back out her picture and flipping it around, which, to his surprise, revealed her with a determined face flashing two Mangekyo Sharingan that both looked slightly different, they didn't originate from her, but they were hers now, no doubt about it. This prompted the Rebel Heart to think, maybe if I follow in my mother's footsteps, I too can diminish the voice, and hopefully at least have half the positive impact she did, but I think first thing I gotta do is get out of this village, it can't be good to be forced to serve people I can never forgive. And with that, Shibata finally went back into his house, and slept the night away, spending his next day doing nothing but grieving for both parents he had lost, and swearing he would do them both proud. 
This grieving did have it's interruptions of anger, however, as Shibata spent his free time thinking, and he realized that the enemies that poisoned his father, must have been other ninjas of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. This realization prompted a raging stomp through the family hunting cabin in which the Rebel Heart tore down anything Konohagakure related, and in this rage ended up tearing doors off their hinges, in one case tearing the door off of a closet, which prompted a large pelt to seemingly launch itself off at the genin. After a second, he recalled that he had hunted this deer and skinned the magnificent beast with his father. This distraction took him out of his rage and so he started to once again think rationally. First and foremost he started packing a bag, just throwing the essentials in there: clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, et cetera, and taking a second bag solely to fit the fine pelt in, preserving it for the future before he took both items and, making the sign of both the rat and the dog, displaced him in a separate dimension for storage, and for ease of transport as if you don't have to carry the bags it eliminates most of the hassle of travel. With his things packed, he rested for another night, knowing that tomorrow he would visit the hokage to get a funeral put in order, but for now, he need only rest.

Claims:
WC 3,209
Continuing from https://www.narutoroleplaygame.com/t44739-worthy-challenges-shibata?highlight=Shibata+Nara
Mystical Palm [Revamp] (2.5k/2.5k)
Portal (1.5k/1.5k)
Mist Servant Technique [Canon] (.5k/.5k)
Leaf-Style: Willow (283/500)
+ 32 Speed (3,200/3,200)


Items purchased here, using this as a ic way of Shibata obtaining the items:
Corpse Scrolls https://www.narutoroleplaygame.com/t35218p50-corpse-storage-scroll?highlight=Corpse
Book https://www.narutoroleplaygame.com/t16562p50-a-study-of-kkg-and-their-connection-to-dna
Regular Scroll https://www.narutoroleplaygame.com/t16207p20-basic-scroll

Mist Servant is 500 words but I assume this is a typo since numbers add up.

Approved