Rough Start [S]

Sat Jun 19, 2021 5:14 pm

Mission #1:

Mission #2:

Beginning of Chapter One

The village was quiet despite its industrialization. The Chunin exams were wrapping up and its survivors were returning to the village. With their return came a surge in activity in the form of celebrations; the fishermen sang their sea shanties, the women drank and partied until they sobered up, and the children played ninja with one another. Celebrations were not the only form of activity that followed the shinobi’s return. The village was sustained by its military, a system imposed by the preceding Mizukages, though it was taken to the letter the previous one; Xyzer.

The long-haired teenager woke to the rising sun’s rays reflecting from his bedroom’s window to his unmasked face. Shimui flinched and then slowly opened his right eye. He jumped and sprinted to his closet, dressing. He put his mask on, fitting it neatly under his bangs.

“Your duties start today. We shinobi use scrolls to report important information and mission details,” a mysterious man said. He searched his back pouch and took a rolled-up paper sheet, which he tossed the teenager’s way, who moved one hand over the other to receive it. When he looked up to clearly see the man’s form, he was no longer there.

The masked lad peered down at the scroll and unraveled it to thoroughly scan the message laid out: “Your mission consists of doing our client’s garden, Fujimoto Mirei, who lives in the westernmost district. You’re expected to finish this mission by today.” He squeezed the sheet, but let go of it and left it on his bed. Deciding to get it over with, Aminui vaulted over his window and fell onto a merchant’s stall, whose screams he paid no attention to while running to his destination.

He didn’t look away from his front, resulting in him running over the people that stepped in front of him while on their way to their businesses. Following each event, muffled, undecipherable whispers swam in and out of his ears.

For whatever reason, he jumped to a house’s top and bent his knees, taking a lengthy, full look around. An arm was swerving from left to right. It was short, that of a child, and pale. “Over here! I’m Misha Mirei. Fujimoto’s my pops!” a girl, not much older than ten, said. Aminui walked to the roof’s very edge and hopped down. Her feet rolled forwards like windmills his way and she was forced to cease a few meters from him. The girl leaned back and tilted her head away from him, but she wasn’t able to see his face even then. Front to front were a giant and a sack of potatoes.

Aminui walked around her inside her home without taking his sandals off. As anticipated, the Mirei’s garden wasn’t at their house’s front, but behind. The wild-haired teenager rolled his sleeves up and knelt to the plants on the right side. There were three sections of plants: pink and red flowers to the left, green, bland plants to the right, and white flowers to the north. Unknowing what his mission entailed, he blankly stared at them, waiting for something to happen. The girl watched intently. “What kinda ninja stuff is he gonna use to better my papa’s garden?” she wondered.

To her disappointment, nothing ever changed, even after the shinobi spent many minutes looking at the plants. She filled her cheeks and held them with her palms. “Are you just gonna keep sitting there?” she asked. The girl sounded frustrated; understandably, as her father paid a fortune for someone to come help out. He didn’t have the time to fix it--or to play with her anymore. She sighed.

Aminui snapped his head at her. His mask moved to his lips. The girl’s brows lifted to her expectations of the teen speaking up, finally, but all he did was weirdly laugh once, after which he turned to face the plans. He held his hand out for her, then. “Ekipment,” he said in a raspy voice. The girl smiled widely and nodded several times rapidly. “Right on it, sir!” She saluted him and pivoted around to walk inside her house, calculating her steps like a soldier. He waited for her return in his bent down position.

Steps were heard, first on a surface, then up and downstairs. At the end of it all, he heard a bang. “Ouchie, ouchie, ouchieee!” the girl yelled. He didn’t walk her way and instead kept waiting. To his right, she was after a minute. The teen held his hand out to her and she delivered. The mission’s completion was a matter of time and trial and error.

The mysterious man cleared his throat, to which Shimui jumped, yet again, rising to a stand. “You have another mission. This one’s a bit more difficult. The scroll explains everything. You don’t need to make a report for your earlier task,” he announced while moving his hand to Aminui’s, placing a scroll within. The shinobi up and left, leaving him to read the information on his new mission. It wasn’t a quick read, given the many details provided, but, after he was done, he shuffled it into his pouch and jumped to the Mirei house’s roof, and from there to another.

The wild-haired teen turned his glance from left to right, scanning the places he passed. He began his mission by scouting the westernmost district. He saw some of his gang’s members hanging around. They hadn’t consulted the shinobi force for him, most likely assuming he was done for. He learned it was how they all ended up the hard way. Sooner or later, the gang’s leader, one he never met, would be caught and killed. His mask budged and pushed his bangs up.

In the end, the westernmost district hadn’t any information for him to use towards solving this mystery. He wished the higher-ups would give him hints on where to look; the village was massive and its population wasn’t exactly helpful, especially when it came to ratting others out. He knew it personally. A passing thought where he wondered how the shinobi force learned about his occupation came to mind. He passively went over the people who he didn’t get along with, who were many, and hummed. Had he killed them before they told on him, he wouldn’t have been so close to meeting death.

In his mind, the village was divided into five districts: the western, northern, southern, eastern, and central districts. The western district was clear and he hadn’t gained any intel from it; the northern and the southern were the likeliest places the incident occurred. His logic was that, had it happened in the central district, havoc would have been wrecked and, in the first place, he wouldn’t have been assigned to this mission, since the higher-ups would want all the glory that would come with saving the village.

Next up was the northern district. It was here that the Mizukage’s manor was. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first glance, but the long-haired teenager decided to stick around for longer and walk around. From an outlooker’s perspective, he was passing by--he wasn’t turning his head to glance at his surroundings. Occasionally, he turned his head enough to face northwest or northeast, allowing him to take more information and scare off those that followed him with their gaze. There wasn’t something quite right here; the civilians were acting suspiciously by not taking to their daily endeavors.

Aminui took a sharp turn right into a restaurant and sat by its entrance to stare at any plants his eyes could find. There weren’t many people into vegetation; the Mirei family was an exception. From what he could tell, they were wealthy if they could afford a garden, a front porch, and a house as big and lively as theirs. In contrast, he lived in a suffocatingly small apartment that contained what he required to survive; compared to them, he was destitute. His mask shifted up and back down.

Time passed quickly for him when in thought--or perhaps it was because he snoozed up until now. The wild-haired teen shifted on his seat and leaned his back on the wall, acutely listening to the indiscernible worries of the villagers while acting like he was still asleep. Through it, he gathered more information than he had before. It was a start, at least.

The masked teenager raised and walked out of the restaurant, taking a glimpse of the astoundingly large factory he had, somehow, missed before. He climbed to the bar’s top and jumped from building to building to near the estate.

The real mission was about to begin.

Aminui stopped a few streets from the factory and rummaged through his back pouch, ensuring his equipment was intact. The mission didn’t entail fighting, but he was certain someone not in their right mind would try something. He then jumped down and silently made his way in, using his outstanding speed to avoid the security guards, the presence of whom he felt from where he stood. If they were shinobi, they could do the same. The teen doubted they were, but took extra precautions and distanced himself from the first guard he saw just by the factory’s first turn by going further into the building.

The metallic surface just over his head was cramping and, with time, collapsed. From above fell a horde of monkeys that jumped up and down before him. He was disgusted by their presence and attacked one. By doing so, the group ganged up on him and knocked him back, leading to him realizing these weren’t ordinary monkeys, but shinobi monkeys, like the scroll stated. He had taken them lightly and they made him pay for it.

The wild-haired teen tugged on thin, unperceivable threads to bring a multitude of needles to his hand and accurately threw them one after the other, with pauses in between to calculate where the monkeys would be next, should they move. He didn’t know how skillful his opponents were, but he now knew better than to take them lightly. The metallic bars dug deep into the frontline monkeys, who fell to the ground, paralyzed. An odd sound, one that resembled a laugh, left him. He observed the fallen monkeys for but a moment and looked up to those that remained. With more senbon in hand, the lad proceeded to take them out, three at a time, until very few were left. These, to what he had done to their comrades, let out a spooked eek and quickly turned around, fisting the ground amidst their escape.

Aminui pulled more senbon out of his pouch and palmed them with so much force they pierced the monkeys’ backs, besides one who knocked one of the senbon out of trajectory with a trailing kunai, which continued its track towards him. He didn’t find difficulty in weaving and dodging the sole kunai, though it distracted him and gave the last remaining monkey enough time to flee. The teenager clicked his tongue.

His mission entailed the ninja monkeys had escaped the facility, but, from the looks of it, they hadn’t up until now--or this was the second horde that did. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the second, given how unreasonable these creatures were. Only one of them held up to their name of ninja. He was surprised by it countering his senbon with a kunai; he threw it with the intent to kill and at a rapid velocity. That one monkey’s reflexes were certainly out of the ordinary.

The lad rolled his shoulder while turning around, deciding to continue investigating before making a report. Coming around the corner behind him was a guard, who called out to him: “Freeze!” He turned his head just enough to see the senbon launcher pointed at his neck. As commanded, but not because it was, Aminui stopped, beginning to search his pouch messily. After a minute, give or take, he took the wrapping detailing his mission and threw it the guard’s way, who suspiciously looked at it on the ground while continuing to hold his weapon. “Don’t move,” the guard said, who trusted the messy-haired lad would do just that, though he didn’t meet his expectations and fully turned around. Startled, the guard shot his weapon at Aminui's torso, who didn’t make much of a move to avoid it; he shifted his stance to a side and let the senbon fly past.

Was he being tested?

The long-haired teenager rolled his hands into fists and waited while staring down at the guard, whose eyes widened. On the top middle part of his porcelain mask was a Kirigakure symbol, indicating that he was, more than likely, a shinobi of the mist. The guard was what he assumed to be spooked as he didn’t hesitate to slam his head on the ground to bow. The shinobi’s staring proceeded, to which the guard read the scroll, understanding the situation. “Anfermition,” Aminui struggled to say. The light-haired man’s confusion showed through his dazed expression. He snapped a senbon between his index and heart fingers and brought it to the guard’s left eye.

Blood splattered everywhere. The guard fearfully held his eye and glared at Aminui, to which his mask raised up and down.

“Enfermition,” the masked teenager said. The light-haired guard didn’t understand what he was saying, but, with some thought, discovered the meaning behind his words. He wanted to get the lad back, but he couldn’t do much against a shinobi. He didn’t want to help him fulfill his duties because of what he had just done--he would never forgive him. If he wanted to live another day to make him pay, he needed to submit and be of help.

Aminui slammed his foot on the guard’s head, knocking him to the ground, where he squeezed his cheek against it with enough force to give him a concussion, but not quite break his skull. The man began tearing up to his impotence and screamed, but his sounds entered and left his ear. The teenager received joy from inflicting harm, which showed in the growing pressure on the guard’s egg.

“I’ll help, I’ll help! Please, please, let me live-- I beg you!” the guy yelped.

The shinobi’s foot was lifted, sparing the guard, who he waited for to stand up, during which he blankly looked at him. The light-haired man raised to a stand toilsomely and, while covering his eye, walked the two of them through the factory. At the end of it all, he had learned quite a bit about the business; the monkeys were trained by the village to replace the factory’s workers in the economy sector, assumably to assign more people to the military and to, once more, be strong individually and in numbers, but by replacing human workers, the higher-ups were taking out specialized people that studied to get where they were. Even he knew that it wasn’t a matter to be taken so lightly as the higher-ups were. Genetically modifying animals to help out on the battlefield was fine, but to replace humans at their jobs he disagreed with. Even if the animals understood how their job worked and did it without thinking twice about it, they weren’t human; they lacked their common sense and intelligence.

As it was right now, he couldn’t make his views public.

He also learned that the horde of monkeys he faced was the second to escape.

WC: 2580

Sat Jun 19, 2021 8:04 pm

The passing wind broke the silence between the two. Aminui turned to his right, facing the one-eyed guard, who he no longer had any use for. The wild-haired teenager stepped forwards and closer to the other, who in turn stepped back and away from him. He raised his arms defensively, ready to put what little combat training he had to protect himself.

“Why do you do this? I told you all I know! Believe me, please!” he yelped. “I have a family to go back to; my mother, my daughter, my wife, my older brother, Jen, Yemu, Tangier…” the other listed. Why was it that he felt conflicted? Like many times before, he should end him and enjoy the gore that came with his murder and playing with his limp limbs.

Shadeless eyes watched the light-haired man’s attempt to persuade him. His mind played games with him, but his body was relentless. He sped towards him and wrapped an arm around his waist, tugging him closer into a tight, bone-crushing embrace. The guard would’ve been emotionally moved had it not been for the pain he felt, perceivable through his strained look and loud shrieks. His right leg swept at the other’s feet and knocked him off-balance, giving him full control of his landing. A last, fatigued breath left the guard’s rosey, thin lips, with his head landing harshly on his left foot.

Aminui shook his head to his enjoyment having to stop there.

This whole situation was caused by his lack of communication. Perhaps the guard’s mention of his family changed his decision to end him right then and there. What would he gain from it, and what would others lose? In exchange for his personal pleasure and joy, a multitude of people would suffer and hate him, eventually coming after his head or sending someone to claim it. Perhaps that was part of the reason why he decided against his usual way of handling business.

The long-haired lad turned tail and jumped out of one of the factory’s windows, feeling the village’s gentle breeze on his very neck. His mask shifted up for a moment. “Nice,” he murmured. He enjoyed it while it lasted. That was one more thing he discovered he enjoyed. An idea popped in his mind on his way to the Mizukage’s estate, where he encountered the mysterious shinobi from earlier, face-first this time around.

“How did it go? I expect you to have succeeded with flying colors,” the hazel, short-haired man said. He sported a marine-blue-themed outfit, similar to the one many Konohagakure shinobi wore underneath their vests. Beneath the teenager’s porcelain mask were tilted brows that relaxed soon after. He handed the man a scroll, containing a summary of his findings: from the many hordes of monkeys escaping the factory to the mistake in the mission details. In a paragraph dedicated to the latter, he explained: “They were ordinary fighters for monkeys trained in shinobi arts. It’s only one of them that managed to stand a chance against me. The others, I subdued and tied up. I request someone to recover and imprison them.”

The shinobi looked up from the letter with an irked brow. “You, a newbie, make requests?” He didn’t laugh, but looked him dead in the eyes through his mask’s slanted lines. The wild-haired teen’s stance persisted and so did his request. The growing silence between them was broken by the shinobi’s shake of his head and turnaround. “You’re heading back there to retrieve the monkeys. If they’ve fled because you left them behind, your payment will be reduced by fifty percent,” the mysterious man calmly stated.

Strangely enough, he was motivated by the mention of money that he left to pursue. He didn’t need much of it, but it was useful to have when it came to purchasing equipment. If he was to ascend in shinobi rankings as quickly as he could, he would need items that matched his skill set and weaponry besides the few senbon and smoke bombs he carried on his person. At that time, he didn’t have enough to afford them. Considering this one mission’s ranking, presumably around D or C, he would be rewarded neatly and have enough for most items he needed.

By the time Aminui was out of his wealthy land of thought, his body had taken him to the factory’s entrance. Out of coincidence, he arrived just as the monkeys untied themselves and had come running to the factory’s exit, instead of out a window or another less commonly used exit.

The teenager’s mask shifted and almost fell off of his face to his drastic increase in velocity. His feet pedaled forwards and were replaced by the image of a blur, with his position changing from fifteen feet from the group of monkeys to their front. He fought with senbon in his hands, these he used to stab his opponents into a state of unconsciousness, leaving them with heavy wounds, but nothing fatal. Regardless, death was a possibility for these creatures, especially with how slowly and sluggishly he carried them back to the manor, where he dropped them off and received his pay, alongside a small bonus for aiding the village in gathering important information.

On his way out, his right foot felt the ground’s cold embrace to his sandal’s string, once found between his great and long toes, falling apart. He came to a knee and began trying to fix it, using his chakra to mend its two spread-out pieces into one. If he had been able to use his chakra to communicate his thoughts, feelings, desires, and commands, perhaps not as many people would’ve died and would continue to die to him. At times, death was inevitable, but he acknowledged that he could've avoided executing it at times.

The wild, long-haired teenager treaded someplace else where the breeze swept his face, neck, hands, and feet. He watched over the village from its tallest building, ensuring danger was not closing in on it. He couldn’t see or feel the monkeys’ trained chakra any longer, so his mission was, for the time being, completed. He was uncertain whether he would be assigned to the mission chain or not. If he was? He would gladly take on the challenge. He wanted to solve the strong monkey’s mystery. It could just change his perspective on the village training animals, after all, but he highly doubted it would.

Covering his face, his mask was no more. He enjoyed the cold, quickly-passing winds with his head hanging back. His mane moved as one with them, showering him with pleasure akin to the one he felt when beating down on people. He was aware that many didn’t share the joy he obtained from putting others through harm, but what if they forcibly did and understood why he felt how he did? It could potentially connect him easier with others, opening up many opportunities for him to gain peoples’ recognition and a reputation like none other. He disliked the idea of being completely understood or misunderstood. The latter was already happening, but, because he wasn’t aware of how it did, he didn’t mind it. As long as the communication was one-sided, he was all for it.

At first, it sounded easy, but what way was there for him to share his thoughts, past, and ideals? The teenager pondered about it for the hour to come and didn’t concluded, but he was against giving up. With his legs hanging by the roof’s edge, he closed his eyes shut and deeply thought about possibilities and solutions. For the time being, he concluded that, by infusing his weaponry with his chakra, they would grant those who he struck or parried his attacks the ability to feel what he felt, see what he saw, and communicate their thoughts that way, a technique that would require a lot of time and work to take to its full potential.

The masked shinobi saw its benefits and would soon come to reap them.

WC: 1356
TWC: 3936

Sat Jun 19, 2021 8:34 pm

Claims

39 SP
2000 words @ Ninshū [2000/2000]
1000 words @ Hidden Arms [1000/1000]
936/1000 @ Prepared Needle Shot
5 Kunai for E-Rank completion
20 AP, 4000 ryo and an extra 100 from the C rank
5 AP, 1000 ryo and an extra 100 from the D rank, totalling 25 AP and 5200 ryo

Sun Jun 20, 2021 2:55 pm

Rough Start [S]

Rough Start [S]

Re: Rough Start [S]

Claims

Re: Rough Start [S]