100th Annual Sake Saturnalia [Tanbo Festival]

Skies of interminable gray backlit by the dying sun hung low over Gaikotsu Bay. An evening fog rose from the water, enveloping the landscape in a low-lying blanket of white that clung to the cloaks of passersby and made them appear to float above the ground like wraiths on parade. With the vague bite of winter still in the air and the harvest long past, it seemed just another dreary evening in the Land of Rice or, rather, it would have if not for the defiant denizens of Tanbogakure.

Lanterns illuminated every rice paddy, floating above the fog like will-o'-wisps dancing in the soft inland breeze and creating a thousand pinpricks of light in the terraced valley leading up to the village. Similarly lit, the streets of Tanbogakure's residential district played host to an endless parade of yukata and jinbei clad figures, each sporting a unique mask of mythological make. Together Kitsune, Oni, Tengu, and more marched from door to door under the fast-descending veil of darkness, sending the boisterous din of merrymaking high into the heavens above. Indeed, whatever warmth the weather lacked, the up-and-coming village more than made up for it in its revelry.

Tonight, the final night of the year, held special significance to the people of Rice Country. For most, it served as a monument to the past, a celebration of the present, and a prayer for the future, during which respects were paid to those lost and a party thrown for those who yet remained. This strange juxtaposition of life and death culminated in a saturnalia of sake as merchants, farmers, and shinobi alike invited costumed passersby to sample the latest vintage of sake—the unofficial drink of Rice Country, and a point of pride for all who worked the rice paddies year in and year out.

A century-old tradition, the saturnalia also gave everyone a chance to unwind from their routines and disappear, quite literally, behind a mask of anonymity. Legend had it that the wearing of masks and drinking of sake were meant to chase the evil spirits from the land before the coming of the new year. In time, however, such legends were consigned to fireside stories and children's tales rather than reality, though the practice still remained as a testament to what once was and, perhaps, could be again.


Hidden behind the blue-green countenance of a perpetually surprised oni, Yasahiro, Komekage and leader of Tanbogakure, passed through the crowded streets of his village unrecognized by most. His typically tidy hair fell to his shoulders in a black shock of untamed frizz, adding to his monstrous facade and further aided by his black yukata that made his already large frame seem all the larger in the flickering of the lantern light. For the first time in quite a while, he felt the yoke of leadership lift from his shoulders; he was just another masked man in a sea of many.

Making his way through the village, open doors, warm hearths, and pictures of lost loved ones all began to blur together. Sake shot after sake shot after sake shot propelled him forward from one household to the next until he was certain he'd been to a few places twice. And yet, still, he continued on all the same, allowing the rhythm of the crowd to guide him through to the next logical step of the evening, whether it be paying his respects at a shrine or sharing another shot with anyone who asked.

Soon the crackle of gunpowder and the acrid smell of fireworks filled the air, shattering whatever calm might have set in over the course of the evening. Reds, blues, and greens exploded in the air, painting the sky with an elaborate display that continued on for what felt like hours until, once more and all at once, relative silence reigned. Space and time then fell away from reality creating an incense-filled atmosphere on the streets of Tanbogakure as the saturnalia continued on. If ever ill-meaning ghosts, demons, or devils existed, then the small settlement by Gaikotsu Bay would be the last place they might be found after tonight.

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WC: 689
TWC: 689

Tanbogakure shinobi all receive 2000 ryo for the New Year, please post ic in this thread to claim. Deductions will be made from treasury at the conclusion of the thread. It will be sent to characters at their primary residence in the form of a red envelope marked with the seal of the village.

Feel free to use, add, and interact in/to this thread as you see fit. There is neither a post order nor a requirement to join in if you don't want to. You can even enter and exit on the same post, it's your call.

Happy New Year!

The Saturnalia. The yearly festival observed by all in the rice country, a date that Hayato knew well. After 5 years, Hayato had grown to love the merriment and joy in the air. The rice country wasn't exactly a dreary waste, but some times it felt empty. The gentle winds caressing the the stalks of the cash crop at before the break of dawn with not a single soul in sight, could make the place lonely. Though that was not the case this evening.  

Tonight was a different story. The streets where lively and pack to the edge with people. Hayato walked among these streets observing the little memories being formed. Children's laughing as they presented their newly obtained goldfish. The bright red glow of candied apples complimented the bright red glow seen on the cheeks of many of the participants. The lantern lit the bay ablaze. There was singing and the clinking of glasses to heard the world around.

The pleasant atmosphere was enough to make Hayato feel a spark of joy in his troubled mind. This date wasn't simply a night for sake, games, and partying with reckless abandon. No for Hayato it was bitter sweet. He waded his way though the sea of people away from the hustle. The boy drifted farther and farther from the shining lanterns to a quite place with far fewer rowdy patrons.

The Tanbogakure cemetery was a small place. The elderly widows and small broken families came here to pay their respects. It was about the only place there where no mask to be seen. Hayato stepped through the thresh hold and removed the red Oni mask. He trudged through the yard like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Though in reality he only carried a few flowers and a lantern. They were gifts from his mother. She would not make the trip ever since they but together the make shift grave for him. It was "too hard a walk" she would say. Hayato knew she could make it, but after hearing her weeping each year before she knew he was awake, he'd stop asking her to. Everyone grieved in their own ways.  

Hayato stopped in front of a small pile of rocks off to the edge of the yard and knelt "Hello Father..." He almost whispered. "I'm not sure you would have wanted this, but I followed in your footsteps and became a shinobi here in the land of rice." He stopped. It was always hard, but he would make it though another year. He smiled a pained yet gentle smile down at the grave and pressed on.

"I will be able to keep mom safe now...well soon! There is much to learn, but I will do my best. My instructors seem to think I had at least a little talent, so I should be alright." He placed the flowers in front of the make shift grave. "Here these are from mom. She picked them while working in the fields especially for you." A tear rolled down his rosy cheek. "S-she's doing fine, but the walk is too much for her... I'll tr-try to bring her next time. I promise." He wiped the tears streaming down his face, but to no avail. They poured. His body shook like a stalk in the breeze. It was like this every time. He couldn't deny how much he missed his Father, his role model. Hayato placed the lantern atop the rock mound and bowed deeply. His nose scraping the ground.

"Where ever you are... please do not worry. I, Hayato Yuki, your only son will carry all your burdens. So please, rest easy father." He rose from the bow the tears had stopped and his body was still. He lifted the mask to his face as he rose to take on the world. He turned away from the past he had left behind but forgotten, and drifted off into the night. The smell of incense and the crack of vibrant fireworks accompanied his solemn march home. The young oni masked shinobi waded through the sea of happy people with the burden of loss weighting heavy on his soul. Within his heart lay a small spark of what no one could say, but what ever it was would set his world on fire.

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[WC:723 TWC:723]

Kato was still in the process of adjusting to his new home here in Tanbo. He was unsure of how he felt about it so far as on the one hand he was extremely grateful that the village had opened their arms to him and his father and on the other hand he missed Konoha more and more with each passing day. It was his home, where he grew up, but he had to stop idolizing the past. The Konoha he had grown to love and adore was not what it used to be. The image of his mothers dead body was a constant reminder of that. This place, though, on this night... it felt like a community. Something he had not felt in many years. It was wonderful to say the least. 

Hiding behind his mask made things a little bit easier as well as he did not have to be known as the boy from Konoha. Though no one said it, or maybe even thought it, he felt as if they all judged him and his father. Judged as two men who abandoned their home and fled when the chips were down. He was most likely projecting his emotions, or at least that is what his father told him, and that everyone there understood exactly why they had left and given the circumstances they would have done the same thing. None the less he still felt guilt over leaving. 

Strolling through the town with his hair pulled tight in a ponytail and his mask covering his face he wore what was considered the proper garb for the occasion. Instead of his normal Shinobi gear he was wearing a long black robe that was ornately decorated with different plants and fauna to symbolize his connection to nature. Though he did not quite consider himself to be the most connected to the land he was learning to get there. He made efforts to enjoy himself all around the festival. Some were drinking, others playing carnival games, others just enjoying being around their friends. Kato focused mostly on the carnival games as it was something he could at least compete in and give an effort. Maybe he was a bit too competitive but competition really helped him take his mind off of things he cared not to think about. 

After a few hours of loafing around he finally found a nice spot to sit and eat. He had ordered a few sweet rice cakes and a little juice. He was a social drinker and did not enjoy drinking alone and so he had not really found a reason to get any Sake. He was content to sit by himself, eat his rice cakes, and watch with wonder as the fireworks began to make their mark on the sky above him. For the first time in a long time he felt content to just exist.  

WC: 483 
TWC: 483

Outfit:

Staring at the garment laid out on her bed, still wrapped in a towel, all she could do was scowl - Izumi. She had let her sister pick out her attire for the festival, since the bar trip had shown Kunika in new clothing donned without her sister’s input she had relented that the next time there was an event to go to she would have full reign over her wardrobe - how she regretted this decision now. Turning sharply with a cluck of her tongue she moved to her wardrobe, anything she already had would suffice - throwing open the door to see empty hangings only added to her tight jaw. Fine. FINE. If her sister wanted her in this … lack of cloth then FINE she would do so. Slipping it on was easy enough but staring at her reflection brought her hand to her face - to many mixed emotions brimming from the outfit. Either Izumi knew of her proclivity to trouble or she was shoving her into the ‘deep end’ of fashion to get her out of her shell. 

The garment was barely hiding anything - High necked and long sleeves were only for show, her shoulders were cut out and the top itself only just covered her chest leaving far more under cleavage than was necessary, all paired with a low cut long hemmed skirt that also had slits on the sides of her hips. Biting the inside of her cheek she sat in a huff to finish out her hair and makeup - a bright blush on her cheeks even in the privacy of her room; she was going to kill her sister. She kept her hair simple enough, bangs and front hair pieces framing her face in a vain attempt at distracting any onlookers - her eye makeup was darker than usual to give the glow of her eyes something to suck a gaze into but there was no taking away from this outfit… how she wished for colder weather as she made her way out of their shared home, the short heeled boots clicking against the pavement as she walked. 

Luckily the outfit was tight enough not to move too much despite any extra movements so at least it was to sit in place… As she neared the festival plaza she was assaulted by the intense smell of several burning incense and even more candles - then the sounds of celebration and reverberating fireworks were in place to contest with her senses. Scowling slightly she slinked through the crowd to one of the many stalls serving alcohol, if she were to be made to wear this ensemble then she refused to do so sober; Izumi was around here somewhere taking care of herself she hoped. In moments she was inundated with enough sake to put down a moose, though only her toes and fingers seemed to feel the familiar tingle of intoxication. 

She moved like a snake, or rather a beam of light through patches of illuminated grounds - showing up in a flash here and there, all before disappearing from the sight of any left in her wake; stealing glasses and drinking them down in time with the concussive blasts above. This was her element, comfortable in her skin again and unconsciously grateful at the outfit she was adorned with - perhaps her conservative clothing was holding her back… or rather the common man on Tanbogakure was of lesser stock than those found in Missing Nin hovels. Breezing through the area was easy enough for her and she secretly relished in the gazes, though Izumi would never know. Through her weaving she had yet to see a familiar face.

wc 608

Lately, there were a lot of things that had Saya questioning herself. One such thing was her decision to leave Kumogakure. Another was how short her “journey” to explore the continent was. It was obvious to her that her conviction at leaving her past behind was weak. Too fragile, and easily shattered. Soon after stepping out of the mountains the woman had met a ghost from her younger years, and that had shook her resolve in traveling. Now, it had been a few days since she had arrived in the quiet and serene Tanbogakure, and though her bags were ready, there was no set date for her to leave.

In the end, here she was, dressed in a rather fancy traditional outfit (the most flashy she had ever donned in her entire life) with a mask and paper lantern in hand. Her kimono was navy in color (almost black) with floral patterns of red and pink, a dark red obi to compliment the color scheme, and a pair of black gloves. While it would have been the “perfect” wardrobe on this night, the only thing that Saya was not happy with was how the upper half of her getup exposed her shoulders and quite a bit of her chest. Completing her whole ensemble was a red tengu mask, sitting comfortable across her visage whilst her loose hair (free from its usual braided confinement) flowed down her back.

Well, it’s not like she had much choice in what she wore. The merchant she had helped out prior to coming to Tanbo had incessantly pushed the kimono onto her as a gift, complete with accessories. Said person had also directed her in the direction of the village. Wait. Saya froze mid-step in her wooden sandals. That travelling vendor must have known about this festival! She did recall having seen a rather curious smile on that person’s face as they had merrily parted ways.

Saya inhaled and exhaled quietly as she followed the flow of people, thoughts turning to disarray. Festival sounds - a cacophony of laughter and jeers, booming fireworks, and community - left her feeling empty despite her participating in random stalls. Fishing for goldfish (fail), throwing kunai at targets (partial fail), and indulging in their foods (absolute success). Still, it left her a little wanting for some companionship.

And who was she in this sea of strangers? Anyone and no one.

WORD COUNT: 401

Kimono Outfit:

Tengu Mask:

The crowds thinned, the lanterns dimmed, and the din of the festival wanned. Time, drink, and the siren call of sleep eventually pulled the masked masses away from the streets and into the warmth of their beds. Save for a few stumbling stragglers, the village of Tanbogakure fell into a collective rest.

Banks of fog descended on the village and captured its buildings in an ethereal embrace leaving all but the high central tower of Okada Castle visible from afar. Above it all, the castle's unblinking beacon shone out down into the paddy fields and out into the sea. Festival or not, the beacon worked tirelessly to ward off sailors from the rocks below. And so, this was how the 100th Sake Saturnalia ended, not with raucous fanfare but with a silent peace that would usher in the year yet to come.

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Thread closed.

Those who posted in this thread may claim 5000 ryo. This 40k ryo expense will be reconciled on the next village treasury update.