The Student Became the Master (private)

When he woke up that morning, he couldn't be certain if the events of the previous day had happened at all. It seemed surreal. First, his opponent Lara Hyperion had neglected to show up at all for the first bout of the day. That out of the way, a three-way match was arranged between the contestants that remained, himself versus Aroma Viperis and a mysterious Senju boy. As far as he could tell, that was as much of an indication of a dream as he could tell; populating his dream with familiar faces, whether he'd seen them before and knew them or just in passing. It all had felt so real though. The smell of the arena's dusty ground, broken up by forest and humidified by mist, the sensation of impact from striking Aroma's neck... The adrenaline rush he felt at the pit of his stomach when three Senju boys encroached on him, under the vigilant observation of his Byakugan, the flashbacks to the Ice Needles of his former student even as he broke through them powerfully against the Senju's attempt. A twice broken spine. The distinct metallic scent of blood on his hand and forearm. The pain in his left eye as the Sharingan absorbed his chakra, slowly but surely.

That hadn't even been the weirdest part of his dream. He had dreamt that in his coming down from the adrenaline of the fight, he had felt no wish to celebrate, and instead visited the shelter kitchens to provide with a decently cooked meal for the city's less privileged people, and there he had met his old acquaintance Katsumi, who he had almost forgotten existed. Out of sight, out of mind, and yet there she had been, looming over Kaito with her deceptive frailty and wiles, attempting to reestablish a connection. The dream devolved into a nightmare as Kaito suspected foul play, and he recalled the sensation of a third tomoe growing on his Sharingan as his mind and body prepared for his eventual death, as well as how just before he reached his bed, his eye reverted back to a regular eye, and with his chakra spent from a whole day feeding the sharingan, he fell into a deep sleep. Luckily, he would be able to demystify the entire situation by getting up and looking at his two tomoe Sharingan, and he would realize it had all been a bad dream, and he would go and have a few friendly spars against his fellow genin to showcase his prowess and compete for the rank of chunnin.

Standing up from his bed, he made his way to the bathroom, and just before facing his reflection, he took a deep breath. Stepping in front of it, one dark eye and one white eye stared at him. Volt Uchiha and Ghost Hyuuga stared back at him, unforgivingly. He never sought their forgiveness; his actions had been justified under the greater law of the Kumogakure. Yet, it was Volt's dark eye that worried him. Flowing his chakra into the red eye, it awoke, a vivid crimson, and three tomoe sprouted into life. Not only had he gained access to the Uchiha genetics within the kidney he had received, but he had reached the third stage of the Sharingan, just as in his dream... or rather, just last night. All of it real. All of it confirmed by the murderous intent behind the crimson eye's gaze.

As he brushed his teeth, he made his way to the door, wondering if there was any mail, and surprise surprise, there was a single note.

"Meet me downtown. hole in the wall ramen. Bring ryo."

It appeared his former disciple Zento Yuki had requested a meeting with his former master, and in a twist of fate, he would now be the disciple, and him the master. However, Kaito knew the salary difference between a genin and a jounin, so he wondered why he would still have to pay for Zento's meals. Or worse, debts. Probably meal though.

He finished getting ready in front of his mirror, after donning the black pants and black sleeveless shirt he now usually wore. He knotted his red mane at the top back of his head, as he was accustomed to doing, and put the eyepatch over his white eye. Not being a Hyuuga, having a white eye would arouse suspicions over the events of the fateful night in which he, a jounin a of the Kumogakure then, executed his student. He adjusted the patch to make sure it was secure over his eye and around his head. The now black eye would allow him to seem "normal", as normal as he had ever been able to pass as; his red mane of hair always made him stand out and bring high expectations from his teachers who all believed him to have the born abilities of an Uzumaki, which he always failed to life up to. Such failure resulted in him shying away from chakra molding arts and focused solely on his physical abilities, which if he could say so himself, were above average. He might have to try and delve into them if he wanted to be a more complete ninja.

He hid his receding hairline, fashioned into a sharp widow's peak, with his kumogakure headband. He took one last look in the mirror. Within months, he appeared to have aged years, barely recognizing himself in the mirror. He grabbed his weapon pouches and strapped his jagged claw and wakizashi to his belt.

Walking out of the house, the sun appeared to be nice and warm, immediately warming up his dark clothing, he walked down the street and downtown. He received all sort of looks as he went along, once or twice a nod of the head from more dubious individuals, high prasie in this part of the city; to be viewed positivity the criminal underbelly of the city, raised as regular people but hardened by the harshness of life, was not something to brush off. He would nod back, before gazing forwards again. Some other looks were sneering, some people would spit on the floor as he walked, warding off his bad vibes.

He finally reached the grotesque hole in the wall, and looked around for the peculiar presence of Zento Yuki.

WC: 1053

Running through a wall while speaking with a mouthful of bread that spread crumbs and saliva all over the place, his former pupil and current superior officer Zento Yuki burst through the window as a grotesque stone baby being birthed by the house. This was not at all a surprise to Kaito, albeit he didn’t expect to arrive at the running stage. If they were to run, he figured he would have at least eaten something, but alas, Zento had already triggered the ire of some poor soul within the restaurant into running him off. When asked to run away, Kaito didn’t give it too much of a thought, and started backing away from the door and following Zento's trail.

When they came to a halt, some blocks away, Kaito panted lightly from the unexpected workout before turning to the jounin. “So, how much do you owe that poor sod?”


WC: 150

He slowly began to regain control over his breath, still labored but no longer a panting. His mouth felt dry, though, a natural instinct of the body preparing itself for a fight or, in this case, a flight. And fly they did. Kaito wasn’t as fast or as resilient as he had been in his youth, but the run had not been enough to even break a sweat. He watched as Zento played his antics, catching his breath with his hands on his knees and declaring the owed money statements as lies, before getting back to his regular height and asking for some money on some unrelated note. Kaito scratched his chin, pondering. “I’ll take a rain check on loaning you that money, if it’s all the same to you. I’ll still pay you for one of your weapons if you’re up to that.” A subject that had been broached before between the two smiths, Kaito brought up the possibility of buying a weapon crafted by Zento himself. Personally, Kaito liked crafting his own weaponry; not only was it cheaper since the handiwork was his own, but he knew he could trust the final result. However, Zento was a remarkably skilled weaponsmith himself, likely several degrees above Kaito in craftsmanship, and Kaito wouldn’t mind paying a good fifteen thousand ryo for one of his weapons. He knew he could trust his own, but he knew he would be able to trust Zento’s as well. For all his antics, there were a few things he didn’t play around with, that being weapons, combat, and food.

Especially food.

Kaito did wonder why Zento invited him onto this alleyway, especially when the note he had received earlier had mentioned them meeting at a very hostile hole in the wall, but the news of his promotion was what he was interested in. There had been some silence following the tournament (if you could even call it a tournament, an Iwagakurian Standoff was more accurate), but Kaito was certain the promotion was in his pocket already, as well as the ten thousand ryo prize money as both had been listed as the rewards for the winner. He looked around at the quaint little alleyway, dirty and filled with litter, a hint of dried piss dancing in the air they breathed. “Yeah, promotion sounds sweet. Was expecting a bit more of ceremony, but as long as there’s ceremoney involved, I’m good.” He knew the paychecks chunnin earned were fatter than a genin’s. At the end of the day, the rank was just as important as you made it out to be. He wouldn’t mind the clout either. “Considering your stunt at the shop, I don’t guess you’ll have a chunnin vest with you? How am I supposed to flex on randoms?”

WC: 465x2= 930

At Zento’s behest, he followed his former teammate, down from where they were and slowly making their way towards the Village’s Gates. The atmosphere in the village was calm, somewhat perturbing the chunnin; his paranoia had consumed a part of who he was, and he lived expecting this peace to become pandemonium, for the walls to come under siege, for a great foe in either numbers or power to shave away at the erected rock meant to protect them until it crumbled and became their tomb. Perhaps worse: not an enemy without, but an enemy within. Someone architecting their doom around the corner, in an underground lab, perhaps within their very power structure already, unwittingly creating their downfall. Yet, people talking, children ran about laughing, peddlers hawked their products. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the clouds and painted the village in a gray light, lively and dull. It bothered Kaito. He had been forging himself for war so he could uphold the peace, and now peace seemed alien to him, something to look at but not possess. Such was life on the soldier’s side.

He halted his march when Zento did, a short distance away from the gates, looking at a forest to the east. With an exclamation, he turned around to face Nobo, and for a moment, Noboru saw within the same killer he had seen on their fateful meeting that reversed their roles within Kumogakure’s ranks. For a second he thought Zento might attack him, however there were no muscular indications of motion; instead, he professed a singular sentence meant to inform (or perhaps warn) Kaito that what he was about to be shown was a location not to be disclosed. He blinked at Kaito, and his friendly smile slashed across his face, followed by the crack of laughter. He cried out, and off they went; this time Kaito noticed the muscular cues that indicated Zento was gonna move, and he mimicked it to the best of his ability, and as Zento jumped into the tree line and hopped from branch to branch, warning he did not want anyone following or tracking their movements, Kaito surged his chakra into his left eye, the crimson flooding and replacing the pitch black coloration of the irises as he mimicked Zento’s motions almost perfectly, following him with a second or two of delay.

He deactivated his sharingan when they found themselves at a clearing, with a beautiful house resting peacefully within the ring of trees. It looked like it had seen better days; there was a certain degree of disrepair that could make a good carpenter blush. When Zento removed his sandals, he did the same, and set them to the side of the door. When Zento opened the door, he thought the inside looked quite well kept, which must be a trick of his mind, but when he followed him inside, he realized it hadn’t been a trick of his imagination. Every inch of the house looked in perfect order. There was a room that looked very aesthetically organized, likely a small prayer room, a homely kitchen, and beyond some sliding doors, an indoors garden without ceiling, outdoors inside, with a well kept garden, a beautiful cherry blossom tree standing guard over a pond with lively fish, and Zento throwing in homemade fish food for them. He saw Zento in a completely different light, and brought to mind an old saying regarding martial artists who emphasized the importance of peace: better to be a warrior in a garden, than a gardener in a war.

He commented on food, and Kaitos’ stomach rumbled. “Oh yeah, I didn’t even think of that ‘til now.” Zento invited him back inside, where he pointed to a room with two plates, and between them a cream colored single shoulder strap vest, eerily similar to the one he had once ceded to the Yuki. He asked Kaito to try it on, and he would do just that; walking into the comfortably accommodating room, he picked the vest, it’s deceivingly lightweight material lifted without effort. He unbuckled the shoulder strap and slid the vest down his torso, trying it on. It hugged him comfortably, and reaching with his left arm over his back and bringing down the shoulder strap to hold the vest, it seemed like it had been custom made for him. He tugged at it… hm… perhaps he would need to bring it in to the shop to have it adjusted. Too tight on his shoulder, bit loose on his stomach. He took it off as he heard the sounds of wok action, and as he set it to the side of his pillow, Zento brought in delicious smelling food. “Oh wow, I didn’t know you could cook, Zento.” They sat down, and Kaito brought his hands together, said a small thank you as a prayer, thanked Zento for the food, and dug in. The rice was amazing, the vegetables soft yet had a bite to them. Flavor was on point, Zento could’ve easily made a cook in one of his kitchens. “Man, you should’ve told me you’d be treating me to a homemade meal, I would’ve brought some sake.” He decided to mix some business with pleasure. “So, what’s the plan? The brass was impressed with my performance and wanted to promote me… does the brass have anything in particular out of me? What's the deal?”

WC: 902x2=1804

Masticating with joy, the food cooked by his contemporary was excellent in taste and texture, a true gastronomic experience that made the redhead wonder why he even ate out of holes in the wall. The news he had sake were happy news, for sure, but still made Kaito feel he could’ve brought something to share; especially sake, something meant to be shared among friends. As he finished his meal, he put his hands together and took a curt bow as he finished chewing the last bits, pursing his lips and making sure to get every bit of food he could get with his tongue to enjoy the most for it. He stated a short “thank you” when Zento complimented his performance in the exam, listening for the rest. He followed Zento out into the garden, and grabbed one of the cups.

He reflected on his life course thus far as he took a drink of warm sake; the flavor of sake was very noticeable, and immediately overwrote the lingering taste of the meal, and as it travelled down his chest it blossomed with warmth, all the way down to his belly. His life had taken peculiar paths, to be sure. Given a house in the village, then a job, then inherited a restaurant when life as a ninja didn’t turn out the way he wanted it to, only to have his business burnt down and be forced back into military duty to be able to pay bills. He nodded wisely at Zento’s true words. He had come from a worthless ninja to a rather capable one, all because life kept throwing him through the curl of the rocking waves of his life. He was served another glass of sake, and laughed with Zento that time. “Yeah, I thought so too. But I’m glad it’s working out the way it is.” Zento once again complimented him, talking about how many people he saw spiralling; he recalled Kuro, the man who burned down his restaurant at the behest of someone who set him up to fail.

The cherry blossom dancing leaves combined with the peaceful sounds of the pond brought about an immense sensation of catharsis for a moment; he could almost feel himself as a part of the world, not just in a societal manner, but more as if he felt connected to the world in an intimate way, a sensation of belonging, that everything would be fine no matter what. He took another drink as the sensation fell back into the recesses of his mind. “I will. Thanks for the meal and wise words, Zento.” He brought himself to his feet. “I would invite you to my place to pay this back one day, but I live in a pigsty. But I’ll return if you invite me. Have a good day, Zento. Hope we can fight again one day. Just… not today.” He winked and waved his hand, moving out to pick the flak vest and out of the house.


/exit
WC: 500x2=1000
TWC: 4937
Claiming Flak Vest, 10000 Ryo from Chunnin Exam Prize, 2500 Ryo for reaching Chunnin for the first time
Claiming 98AP.
Claiming 4000 words towards Wind Element
Claiming 937 towards Hoárr's Spear, previously worked on here, bringing new total to 1865.