Not Unlike A Misplaced Extremity [IO, NK]

Cutting close to the Unseen University was never a part of today's plan, but Isaribi had never been good with plans. She thought she'd do a little favor for an old buddy. Not criminal, mind you; just a delivery across town. She couldn't say the same for the suspicious looking motherfuckers who came after her, of course. She'd taken some down, and bucked the others, but now that she had dropped off the package, she was trying to make her way back from the other side of the city without running into anyone inconvenient. The chakra signatures around her didn't really tell her much; these fuckers were mundane, after all, which was why they had been so easy to dispatch.

Here, though, they wouldn't dare try anything. Right in front of some of the heaviest hitters in the village? Only the Jaws had those kinds of balls, and the Jaws didn't want anything to do with her any longer, she figured. She was as much of an unwelcome person to them as she was to her neighborhood. The thought should have sobered her, mellowed her out, but she still felt a little jumpy. It wasn't technically risky for her to be around here, but coming from the part of the village she did, she felt distinctly out of place here as well.

She tucked her hand more tightly into her pocket after drawing her hood up over her head. This was the universal signal to all those fancy motherfuckers that she was just another poor passing through their turf, and would be out of their hair all too soon. The tied-up loose end of her left sleeve flapped about a little as a frigid wind passed through the area. Truly a miserable day. It would probably be even more miserable if someone who knew her face saw her here. To be sure, Isaribi would much prefer to keep her fucking head down, and live out her life in apathetic solitude. After all, it stood to reason that if some people received lucky, happy fates in life, then there was a subset of people who got cucked and fucked by fortune. Isaribi, at least, had accepted that she was probably one of these unlucky few. It was what it was.


[WC 379]

It was another one of those days in Haven for Natsuki, a relatively short one. She had a four-hour shift in the Academy, teaching the morning class and Tutoring the students in the Arts of Iryojutsu, always with the appropriate encouragement for them to invest in the specialty in the future. For this reason, the regal red and black dress she had worn during the Nova Exams was left at home - instead, she chose a traditional ninja outfit. She wore her Chuunin flak jacket, black leotard underneath, and her feet covered with black shinobi sandals. On her forehead, the seven-pointed star of Hoshigakure shined against the mid-day sun. Her white gold hair, rare even to members of the Yomiyama family, was tied in a bun that moved with every step she took toward the gates of the Unseen University. The old Citadel of knowledge, serving as the headquarters for the Hoshi Ninja Forces, and the current Hogokage

The crowds rotated from ninja training in the Academy to civilians dressed in plain and finally to nobles of the higher class district. Natsuki felt she did not belong with her current look - even if she was the kage sister. However, her lilac eyes caught another hooded figure walking the road, but in the opposite direction as she was going. That person wore a hoodie to hide her face. No doubt, an attempt to get noticed, but among these nobles walking around like a rooster, they stuck out like nipples on a breastplate.

The most exciting thing was their left arm; there wasn't one. Evident from how the cloth at the sleeve folded in inhuman ways. The recognition hit Natsuki like a gust of autumn wind.

"What brings you to this side of the village?" She said to the other female; just as they came across each other on the sidewalk. "I can only assume it isn't the architecture."

WC: 316

She kept walking as the woman in the fucking inform entered the range of her chakra sensory. By any reckoning, she was headed straight for Isaribi. Fuck! Of all the shitty, unlucky things to happen, this was quite possibly the worst. Well, they were in a public place. Too many times, she'd heard of folks getting their shit kicked in by shinobi when they thought nobody was watching, and in this situation she was clad that there were people around. If the ninja decided to beat her up or stomp on her fucking head or something, there would at least be people around to see it, even if they didn't do anything about it.

As the woman queried her, however, Isaribi stopped, and squinted at her. Oh, shit. The sinking feeling in her gut was not unlike a wild animal, accepting death as quicksand consumed it. Memories returned to her, memories of that brief time just before her incarceration, lying on a fucking operating table while dazed out of her fucking mind while having the ruined remains of her left forearm removed. And of course, this woman had been there. Well, if she certainly looked like a fucking professional. No doubt she had a full understanding of Isaribi's current circumstances.

"Oh, it's you." The other woman was as much of a Stacey as women could get, especially when compared to Isaribi. It didn't bug her as much as some of the girls she knew, but she found it a little concerning that the shinobi of the village were either high-tier women or weak-looking nu-males. Was it bias on her part, or did the ninja force select for these kinds of people? There was a weird sort of humor to it all.

"I was just on my way home", she tried, then added a hurried but only half-sincere, "Ma'am." With a glance, she noted the time. While she was technically telling the truth, she probably needed a better justification for why she was out here, specifically, at an hour like this instead of indoors, being a wagie like everyone else in her neighborhood.

"Kinda hard to find a job with a record like mine, you know what I'm sayin'?" She gave the kunoichi a sheepish, not entirely insincere grin. Well, hopefully it would work and she would just let Isaribi head back to the comfort of her domicile, but she gave it maybe a forty percent chance of working.

[WC 408]

"It's me indeed," Natsuki said with a smile, white and bright. "It is quite a silver tongue in that mouth, Isaribi. I'm almost convinced of your cover story."

They had dropped her on a stretcher. A bag of bones and flesh. A skinny little thing she was, pale and dull-eyed. But there was light inside those eyes, don't let them extinguish it. The Nova Corps did not share such a notion. Ayato was too idealistic, Dusk too daft, Akabayashi too impulsive, and Yohei too haunted. Natsuki had sworn an oath to treat all those that needed to be treated as enemies of Hoshi or not. 

She did not know the details of the encounter, only what she had heard down the grapevine. The picture that had been painted was that the Grimma expected an easy job. A  plum, light-guarded caravan ripe for the taking, another day in paradise, money plunder, and the opportunity to spend the night drunk at an inn. It would have been a simple job if not for the one anomaly. The Hoshi Knigth had been hidden in the back of the caravan. A massive shadow has leaped out of it, tearing through the makeshift crew like Axe through porridge. The Grimma Kunoichi getting her arm crashed in the process.

"At the time of your surgery, my supply was limited," Natsuki said, her lilac eyes examining that arm. "When the question became to save your life or that arm, the answer was clear, at least to me." Toneri had japed to look for the potion that grows back arms. However, her medical expertise has increased since then, and new resources coming to light. It would not be easy, but with a bit of luck. She could finish what she had started all that time ago.

"Now things have changed; come with me and try not to look too tense. We don't want to alert my brother, and I understand you and him never saw eye to eye." She spun around, almost like dancing, her silver ponytail dancing her. She took one step and then another towards a different entrance to the Unseen University. Ninjas in purple uniforms guarded the side gate, a token force compared to what was on the main - but a decent security measure enough to stop. 

"Natsuki-sama." Their commander gave a nod of acknowledgment from his booth. He then looked at Isaribi with a look of confusion - the warmth he had earlier for the female slowly replaced with what uncomfortably turned to look like disgust.

"Who is that some lowlife you arrested?"
"A local resource that our dear Hogokage has turned me to for advice on a confidential matter." 

WC: 447

A smile in the front, a dagger in the back, as someone she used to know said about shinobi. Being stopped on the street and asked to follow a senior ninja, alone, into the heart of the beast made her fucking nervous. Running away wasn't an option. Maybe if she was in a different part of town, she could find a way to slip away and get to someplace safe. Now, though? She didn't have a choice. A theme of her life, maybe. If she wanted to get out of this, she had two options: either attack in some way, hit the ninja bastards from some angle they didn't expect, or using some unconventional angle, or simply comply and get through whatever it was they wanted to get through.

The former option was off the table immediately. It wasn't that the shinobi were perfect, it was that Isaribi wasn't the right person for that job. She didn't have enough information, didn't have the ability to interpret that information even if she did, and most of all, she lacked the right kind of power to do it. Something told her that nothing she did would change the outcome of whatever the pleasant medical shinobi wanted her to do.

So, that meant that the only way out was through. With a quick look around to make sure there wasn't anything she hadn't spotted, Isaribi followed after Natsuki. Her reluctance, in the end, had not been enough to prevent her from going along with whatever the other woman intended. She seemed business-like enough that most people wouldn't expect a trap, but Isaribi was experienced enough to not trust that. Even talking to the fellow by the gate meant nothing. Isaribi glowered at him as they passed through. A naive girl would think that by talking to him, Natsuki was assuring her that there was security here, that there were people watching over her. But she knew better. She could have him on a payroll, or he could be in on whatever was about to happen to her.

In short, Isaribi had failed to establish any kind of information base, and had probably failed to establish rapport with Natsuki. The woman only knew her as a criminal, as some street scum with a little bit of talent for chakra. Even if she was capable of causing a little more destruction than the average shinobi, she'd never be able to escape a label like that. It was like a church sacrament, a pseudo-spiritual marking that would mar her forever. Well, if she didn't try anything now, she was probably screwed either way.

"What, right into the University?" Her query came off as a little more cynical than she would have liked. "If it comes down to it, I didn't see or do anything." She said this more to establish her own attitude right away, making it clear that she wasn't about to bend over for the higher ranked shinobi. Isaribi was under no delusions that she would be able to persuade them of anything, however.

[WC 510]

As they made them across the courtyard, Natsuki could feel the gazes of shinobi on her back. Whenever her eyes came across such a curious gaze, she would respond with a smile and a wave, calling the other person by their name. A prominent means to diffuse any potential conflict, but effective nonetheless. There was nobody in this administration building that Natsuki didn't know the name of. "Know the men and women that serve with you. Don't ask them to die for a stranger." The Hogokake advice echoed in her mind, a practice that Toneri couldn't be arsed to follow.

But even if unspoken mannerisms worked bystanders and dutiful ninjas on guard, there was a person who required a little more convincing. Her partner in crime, whose comment and tonality off suggested she was far from comfortable in her current predicament.

"Cheer up, Isaribi! The main difference between you and the people here is the price tag of their garment. Yet the robes don't make the monk. "Akaboshi and Ayato were elegantly dressed and ideals of justice; Isaribi's outfit looked like a pickpocketer. The foundation had been laid for them to leave their mark on the world, unlike Isaribi, who had to conform to the means of her nature and go from one day to the next, hoping to be free.

There was a famous saying in the City of Haven and many other parts of the shinobi world. "You should never cross the 'All-Seeing Eyes' of the Hyuuga Clan." It referred to their close-quarters combat ability with the ferocity of a fully-grown tiger and the precision of a snake or hawk striking its prey. They know where you are at all times as long as you are within range of their Byakugan. The great white eye that could see anything and the thunderous gentle fist that could pinpoint anything they wanted to. But the young outlaw, the former one, was avoiding Natsuki for a different reason—the ability to gaze into the past, one that one might have wished to forget. And standing where she was standing, Natsuki might have felt the same. However, once a time, fate reaches out her hand.

"And we are here," Natsuki said as she breathed a crisp morning air before starting her laborious ascent of the steep winding steps of the old tower that served as a personal workstation in the Unseen University. It wasn't the fastest pace, to be honest; the corkscrewed steps on the tower's exterior were long and narrow, and her legs were still sore from the morning class in the academy.

When they entered, the room was well-lit and warm. Natsuki's quarters were not as big as the private audience chamber of the Kage. Still, it had Iwagakure rugs on its oaken floor, elaborate wall hangings, and golden-tinted windows that gave it a sense of intimacy. 

A pale lotioned hand motioned Isaribi to a cushioned couch while Natsuki proceeded to take her seat behind the desk. When they were both seated, Natsuki would cut right to the chase. "You know why you are here. I give you back your arm and a proper rank within Hoshigakure, the power to save it next time you get in a pickle. Good bargains always come in threes, and it's not a service given for free. Your undivided loyalty is pledged to Hoshi to be sure, and the encouragement that every technique you develop using your innate talent is given to our archives.

Very simple. A former criminal assassin is relieved of her past crime to be utilized as a resource from the establishment she once fought against and settle the score against antagonistic ninja villages, evil crime lords, and worse.

WC: 612

The comment about clothes pissed her off a little more than it should have. Okay, maybe a lot more. The medic really had to go out of her way to point it out, didn't she? Typical shinobi. Isaribi's glower darkened visibly as her frustration spiked. Come to think of it, it was a familiar sensation, this whole process of being taken into a center of power with somebody who had the confidence to throw out little aggressive jabs like that. Not in the sense that she had gone through something like it before, but she had seen it happen to other people. Lesser criminals and bandits, or officials who had fallen out of the Jaws' good graces. Led into the metaphorical beasts den, one after another by jeering guards and sneering enforcers, into an environment where they would be unable to refuse the conditions set upon them, or the threats made against them, or the offers made to them. In other words, it was a not-so-subtle coercion. Isaribi knew better than to think that the shinobi of the village were any different. As far as she concerned, there weren't many factors separating them from conventional paramilitary gangs, save for a few. Probably the most important one was state sanction; with the approval of the nation and village administrations, shinobi were able to get away with whatever they wanted, even if that approval had been given at knifepoint.

So none of this really surprised her; at least, not after she had caught on to what the familiar elements. The comments, the surrounding shinobi, the laborious climb meant to tire her out and get her emotionally off-balance, and the quarters they entered. It was all meant to convey a message: that she was a fish out of water, at mercy of the fishermen. If she wanted to get back in the water, she'd have to twist herself into knots as they pleased. Again, she considered attacking, using some kind of unconventional means to get the fuck out and reverse the balance of the situation, but discarded those thoughts quickly. Put simply, it was too late. If she wanted to try something, she should have done it back when they were still on the street, while there were still civilians around. Dark thoughts crossed her mind of holding hostages, but as already mentioned, it was far too late. Isaribi sat down on the couch unceremoniously,

She knew the offer of a deal was coming (or something like it), but the nature of it seemed too good to be true. Medical arts that could restore a lost limb? A real chance at employment? The benefits were too good to have simple costs like those. She mulled it over a bit. Loyalty wasn't an issue. Her standing in her neighborhood and among the criminal elements of the village was already ruined beyond repair, so what else was she going to do with her time? The archives, however, were another matter entirely. Even though Natsuki had used the word "encouragement", they both knew that she really meant "mandate". Isaribi had never been in there for academic reasons, of course. The old librarian had done something to some of the village's poorer districts, as he'd made his activities obvious enough that folks knew *something* was going on, but was intimidating enough that nobody attempted to pry into the details. She didn't like people like that, as common as they were in the shinobi world. Having to interface with the institution that man built galled her a little, but she could deal, just like she did with everything else. That wasn't the main issue, though.

"Sure, I'm game." She shrugged lopsidedly, and glanced at Natsuki. "Can't read or write for shit, though. I'll have to get a friend to help me out with all that before I start making any donations." She put a little sardonic emphasis on the last word, but nothing nasty or malicious. Confronted with the maw of the shinobi dragon, as it were, Isaribi wasn't stupid enough to try and piss off the other woman on purpose at this juncture.    

[WC 686]

The revelation that Isaribi did not know how to read or write took Natsu by surprise, but it was an afterthought in her positive response to her proposition. "The pen is mightier than the sword, but in this country, we have more poets than we know what to do with them. Rest assured that writing lessons will be provided to you." It was no secret that her work would require little of it; for the effects of the jutsu, she developed so long as she could explain, someone would write them down and put them in the archives.

After finessing her way out of a life sentence, Isaribi gets a career in law enforcement and her arm back. The deal to get her in the ninja forces was penned by Natsuki; however, what happened before that she could not. However, of rumors, there were plenty of, but very few knew how her sentence was reduced so far or what deal - if any - was put on the table from her by Shina. Not Ayato, never Ayato. He wouldn't comprise again, not after Stein. 

Isaribi did not have the characteristics of a politically savvy woman. She hardly knew how to act shy, timid, and like a little princess. The type of girl that men worshipped put on a pedestal and were willing to go leaps and bounds to please her. She had done well for herself through pure combat skill alone.

"Well then, it looks like we have a deal. I'd shake your hand, but-" Natsuki held back a giggle and the urgency to build up towards the dry humor that ran deep into her family's veins. "I might do that after we recover it. " This would be an excellent start to their agreement. The official ninja ranks statement will follow. Something that nobody would contest, as Natsuki spoke with Ayato's voice in this matter and all other matters.

The kage's sister rose from her seat, a wave of hair shining in the sunlight that burst through the window. She moved gracefully towards Isaribi, so close that the shorter woman could smell her lavender perfume. "This procedure will not require a medical bed, dear. "It might hurt a bit. But you know the popular saying. No pain-"   Natsuki, if not interrupted, would touch Isaribi on the shoulder. There would be no need for handseals either; Natsuki's chakra control was so refined that, combined with Taijutsu, she could skip the handseals entirely. Funneling Creation Rebirth chakra into the tattered body of the former Grimma, new marrow and bone would begin to form where the tribalistic tattoo ended.

"No gain."

WC: 436

The comment about shaking hands puzzled Isaribi a little. Physical contact with other shinobi, casually speaking, was something that she tried to avoid. Too much risk. In her time, people had been poisoned with a touch, slain with a touch, sealed with a touch, so on and so forth. Well, maybe it was just an idiom. Just as insubstantial, however, was the drama with which Natsuki was approaching this. So like the theater kids from that one district in the village. Well, this was a chance for the other woman to show off her talents and flex on a poor, so maybe Isaribi couldn't blame her for being a little dramatic about it.

God, just coming here had wrecked her mood, something she didn't really try to hide. Something ticked her off about shinobi, the way they held so much damn power and yet, the village had barely changed. How can people like her have that confidence? How can they stand themselves? How do they keep up that air of self-assurance? Well, Isaribi had neither answers nor solutions, and she didn't care to comment or act on this subject until she did. So, she accepted the healing without a word.

If it hurt, Isaribi couldn't feel it. Despite the genuine novelty of what she had thought impossible a few days ago, it was not particularly painful, or at least, not painful enough to cause her any discomfort. She'd been through worse. Hell, losing it in the first place had felt far, far worse. Unlike Natsuki, her outlook was a little different. People who have to sacrifice to get what they want ain't doing it right. The people who can do whatever the fuck they want to other people, without having to worry about it coming back to bite them in the ass? Those are the really fortunate ones.

She looked down at her arm. It was how she remembered it... sort of. None of the scars or tattoos that marred her bicep, further up. If she was someone for metaphors, it could have represented a fresh start, a chance to begin anew. She wasn't, though.

"Neat trick", she said, turning her arm over to examine the other side. Damn, but this was going to take a little while to get used to. After years of not having an arm, she'd have to put it through the paces before she was comfortable fighting with it again. At least I can do handseals again.

"Now what?"

[WC 414]

Isaribi looked at her arm as if she had seen it for the first time. Then she asked where to go from there. Shina would probably give Isaribi a secret assignment to work dark and serve the light. Ayato, in the universe that he would ever accept this, would give a motivational speech on how Isaribi has an opportunity to turn a new leaf and redeem herself for previous crimes. Natsuki was neither, and she and Isaribi were in the process of becoming friends. But they wouldn't be whispering to each other about the boys they like any time soon. Assuming Isaribi liked boys anyway.

"We get you in uniform. " Natsuki finally replied, then turned around and walked towards her seat with an air of urgency. The medical ninja opened a drawer and examined the contents thoughtfully. It contained a series of small scrolls, each tied with a blue ribbon. She moved her finger to the right and then to the left.  "This one should work for her size."  She pulled out one of them, untied the ribbon, unrolled the scroll on the desk, and once a tiny burst of chakra was fuelled into it, the scroll released its contents. A blue jacket, gloves, footwear, and finally, a headband with the star carved on the metal.

“I think blue will suit you, Isaribi Chuunin of Hoshigakure," Natsuki said and motioned the fellow kunoichi to take what was now hers. It was a good uniform. Nowadays, presentation is part of the product. Ayato was bound to at least appreciate that. Upon hearing this news, he would probably hardly stomach Isaribi being part of his forces. However, if Isaribi looked like a proper shinobi kunoichi, there was hope he would warm up to her in due time.

"I expect you to donate the first batch of your creations to the archives. You can help yourself to the knowledge your current rank will allow." Hopefully, Isaribi would find solace in that and all the benefits her newfound rank would allow. "The greater you serve Hoshigakure, the more extraordinary service you shall receive. Including specific enhancements that will guarantee you keep that brand-new arm of yours. Who knows, maybe one day we will see you swapping the blue for the white of the Nova Corps."

She finished, only half-jokingly.

WC:372

Design of the Hoshi Uniform: