Rough Diamond [P]

Now that he finished his own private mission, a task to remove a traitor hiding within Hoshigakure walls, it was time for Ashborn to head to the Unseen University to inform the leadership of how it went. A couple of weeks had passed ever since he took care of the situation, and going by how no rumors seemed to had spread, the Yamaguchi did a good job keeping it under control. However, it did help that he slightly threatened those in the bar, telling them what would happen should they ever speak a word about what took place. He did what had to be done, nothing more, nothing less.

After a couple of minutes, the young necromancer arrived at the Unseen University. Finding himself at the center of the City Blessed by the Stars he couldn't help but think what would happen now that he was so close to the higher authorities. He would inform the guards of his reason of visiting, explaining he was there to give an update on the task he was given. Once they let him through, Ashborn continued on his way until he finally arrived at the Leader Chambers. He would wait a moment before knocking on the door, waiting for a signal to enter the room.

There was a certain silence hanging over him, only adding to the already strange atmosphere he felt ever setting foot in the Unseen University. It wasn't really a place where he belonged nor did it feel right for him to be there, despite being a shinobi of Hoshigakure. Ashborn wasn't nervous, but it was no secret he still struggled when it came to any kind of social interaction. 

(WC: 280)

Yasha Okami, a member of the Nova Corps, observed Ashborn's movements as the dedicated genin of Hoshigakure carried out his mission. Yasha's role included training and mentoring young shinobi like Ashborn, and he took his responsibilities seriously.

As Ashborn arrived at the Unseen University, Yasha couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the young genin's abilities. He knew that Ashborn had recently completed a mission to remove a traitor within Hoshigakure's walls, requiring skill and courage.

Yasha stood at a distance, ever watchful, and observed as Ashborn interacted with the guards and made his way towards the Leader Chambers. He was confident that Ashborn would handle the situation with the same dedication and determination he had shown in the field.

Inwardly, Yasha empathized with Ashborn's feelings of unease within the Unseen University. It was a place of great significance and formality, and social interactions could be challenging, especially for a young genin.

As he watched Ashborn knock on the door of the Leader Chambers, Yasha silently offered his support from afar. He knew that Ashborn had done what needed to be done during his mission, and now it was time to report and ensure that their superiors were informed. The young genin had shown great promise, and Yasha believed he had a bright future ahead of him in service to Hoshigakure.

"As you wait here to report to our superiors," Yasha continued, "Remember that you've certainly set a high bar for precision with that last mission. Your dedication to our village doesn't go unnoticed. Good luck."

Yasha offered a reassuring nod before stepping back slightly, allowing Ashborn the space he needed as he prepared to deliver his report.

[WC: 282]

Almost as if he could hear the ticking sound of the clock, each second passing one after the other, Ashborn felt his inner demons trying to calm his nerves. Ironic, or rather typical that the young Yamaguchi felt more comfortable taking another life than dealing with any form of social interaction. Nevertheless, when one received a mission it only made sense to report upon completion. Encouraged by the words of the toned and tall man known as Yasha of the Nova Corps, the necromancer prepared to enter the chambers. "Thank you for your wise words, Lord Okami". Offering a polite bow he then stared at the door in front of him before knocking a total of three times.

Assuming he was allowed to enter, the Emissary would take a deep breath as he then opened the door to the Leader Chambers. Taking a couple of steps, he'd bow his head again before speaking up. "Ashborn Yamaguchi, here to report on what happened to the traitor". Unless interrupted, he then explained how the mission went, leaving out not a single detail. Starting with how he found the woman enjoying herself in a bar from how he eventually attacked her, resulting in the death of the target. Perhaps it would have been better to keep her alive, but the young necromancer knew he could simply create a technique to read the corpse's memories.  

(WC: 231, TWC: 511)

Yasha stood with a sense of detachment in the Starfall Hall, watching the young Ashborn as he faced the council. The atmosphere in the room was far from welcoming, and if the genin had expected a warm reception or a friendly face, he was in for a stark disappointment. This was not a casual chat with Ayato; it was an audience with the council, and it demanded a level of formality and seriousness that the Yamaguchi might not have anticipated.

The young emissary had arrived not in front of Ayato, his potential ally, but in front of the council as if he were a foreign dignitary ready to state his business. Yasha understood that feeling all too well – the sense of being an outsider, of standing before a group of individuals who held power and authority.

In the room, Yasha knew that Ashborn had few friends. With the silvery, Nova might have been the only friendly face among a sea of stern expressions. Shina was present, ever loyal, but even she didn't seem to favor the spectacle Ashborn had created. He had acted on his initiative while off duty, creating a messy scene in the process.

Among the council members, Tojo Yomiyama stood out. As Ayato's great-uncle, he had a personal connection to the Kage but had always been a bitter man. His own family had suffered tragedies, with his daughters succumbing to the spring sickness and his grandson falling during the Hoshimura rebellion. Ashborn's family had fought under Lady Otsu but on the side of the rebels. These losses had only embittered him further despite the meteoric rise of his clan influence in recent years.

Toneri Hyuuga, meant to fill the void of Tojo's grandson, had a different approach. He seemed indifferent to matters that didn't directly benefit him, and his lack of empathy added to the cold atmosphere of the room.

Then there were the executives from Public Security, individuals with their agendas and preferences for intelligence over the brute force methods of the Nova Corps. Their presence added a layer of complexity to the proceedings, the silverwolf knew. As Yasha observed the dynamics in the room, he couldn't help but wonder how Ashborn would navigate this challenging audience and whether he could find a way to garner their support and understanding.

"Young man, you have created quite the spectacle in our fair village. Pray, tell us, have you taken leave of your senses?" Tojo's gaze was stern, his expression unyielding. "Or do you care to clarify your intent in this audacious display"

[WC: 435]

If it wasn't for the Black Heart he possessed, those present in the room would have heard Ashborn's heartbeat as the young necromancer made his way further into the office. After turning himself into an Undead, the Yamaguchi was almost quite literally a dead man walking. With each step he took, it started to feel more like a trial rather than a simple mission briefing. Although, it didn't exactly take a scientist to figure out they wouldn't involve the men and women of the Council to listen to a mere Genin's report. So there he stood, in front of the leading members of the Long Table, waiting to be interrogated.

Trying to keep Yasha's words in mind, even though it seemed they would be of no use in the current situation, the Emissary waited for the ordeal to begin. In moments like that it became clear yet again how the Yamaguchi was more like an outsider than a shinobi. And then the first salvo of questions was fired. Ashborn looked down, turning his hands so that he stared at both of his palms before opening and closing them. Doing so, the young necromancer would look up and at Tojo Yomiyama who had asked him a question. "My senses seem to be working completely fine, Lord". Even though sometimes incapable of feeling, that only applied emotionally.

Unaware it wasn't the answer they were looking for, Ashborn spoke up once more. "Was it fair of that traitor to hide among our own? To deceive and play with the lives of those we swore to protect? Instead, had it not been unfair for me to ignore them?". He couldn't even remember the last time he said so many words and formed so many sentences. However, there wasn't much time to think or carefully weigh his words as a second question had already been asked by the same man from before. Wondering if his response would be what they expected or cause the complete opposite and come as a surprise, the young Yamaguchi replied.

Doing so, the necromancer tried his hardest to sound like a human being instead of a creature void of any emotion. "Honorable members of the Council, you see my display as audacious, I as necessary" Ashborn started conveying his message, showing a small, yet visible sign of improvement in dealing with any form of social interaction. "What I did may not be in line with what our village stands for, but without darkness there could be no light. And maybe I'm the immorality that will allow others to shine". Look at that, who knew the outsider was a poet as well.

(WC: 441, TWC: 952)

Tojo's eyes narrowed as Ashborn's words filled the room. The old man, head of the Yomiyama Clan and great-uncle to the Hogokage exuded an air of stern authority, his expression unyielding. He waited for Ashborn to finish before speaking, his voice like a blade cutting through the tension.

"Genin, your attempt at justification is as hollow as your undead heart. You speak of fairness and necessity, but you fail to grasp the gravity of your actions. Killing that enemy deprived us of valuable information that could have tipped the scales in our favor—information far more crucial than your sense of poetic justice."

Tojo's gaze bore into Ashborn, unflinching. "You will address me as 'Tojo-sama' or 'My Lord.' Disrespect has led many of your Yamaguchi kin to ruin. During the Hoshimura Rebellion, they dismissed the counsel of their elders, and now they are reduced to hiding in tombs like common thieves. Do not let arrogance and defiance lead you down the same path."

The old man's voice softened, but only slightly. "You claim to be the darkness that allows others to shine, but remember this: true strength lies in understanding and wielding power with wisdom, not in reckless displays of force. You stand before us as a shinobi and a member of this village. Your actions reflect on all of us, and it is high time you understood the weight of that responsibility."

Tojo's reprimand hung heavily in the air, the weight of his words settling over the room. Members of Public Security in the council exchanged hushed whispers, their eyes darting between Ashborn and Tojo. The tension was palpable, the young necromancer's presence unsettling to those who had dedicated their lives to maintaining order and security. Meanwhile, Yasha Okami of the Nova Corps, standing guard at the door, appeared to flinch at the slightest movement. Her ordinarily steady demeanor faltered momentarily, a testament to the sheer intensity of the exchange unfolding before her. The room seemed to hold its breath, every ear attuned to Tojo's final, cutting words as the old man's gaze remained fixed on Ashborn, unyielding and stern.

Leaning forward, Tojo's voice took on an edge of contempt. "Your presence here is not an honor, Yamaguchi. It is a test to see if you can rise above your nature and truly serve this village. So far, you have failed. Miserably."

[WC: 393]

The meeting room crackled with tension, the atmosphere thick with unspoken conflicts. Ashborn Yamaguchi, the young necromancer, stood at the center, his posture defiant but his face betraying the weight of the council’s harsh criticism. Each reprimand from the old man cut deep, echoing through the room with unrelenting severity.

Despite the barrage of scathing rebukes, Ashborn held his ground, his jaw clenched to control his anger. The harsh words were not just a personal attack but an assault on his principles. Yet he met the stern gazes of the council members with a calm that masked his inner turmoil.

"I recognize the value of information, Tojo-sama," Ashborn said, his voice steady yet defiantly underscored. "However, decisive action is crucial in the face of an immediate threat. History has shown us the consequences of hesitation. We cannot afford to be paralyzed by indecision while our enemies close in."

The room fell into a tense silence as the weight of his words settled over everyone present. Council members exchanged furtive glances, their faces reflecting a mix of curiosity and apprehension. By the door, Yasha Okami shifted uneasily, his usually composed demeanor wavering under the intensity of the confrontation.

Ashborn’s mind was a storm of thoughts and emotions. The pressure of the council’s condemnation and the scrutiny of the members made him feel like an outsider, struggling to assert his place. Yet, as the echoes of the council’s rebuke rang in his ears, he resolved to prove his worth. He would show that he was more than his mistakes and could serve the village with the integrity and dedication expected of him.

“I am aware of my relatives' actions during the Hoshimura Rebellion,” Ashborn said, his voice growing cold and dismissive. “However, their failures are not my burden to carry. If it pleases my Lord, I would rather not be judged by the mistakes of my ancestors. My path is my own, and I am here to serve this village with my purpose, not to answer for the sins of those who came before me.”

He resisted the urge to reach into his pocket for a cigarette, his fingers twitching slightly as he forced himself to stay composed.

“I will rise to this challenge,” Ashborn said with steely resolve. “I’ve served this village loyally, and I will keep serving. Whatever it takes, I’ll show you my worth.”

(WC: 395, TWC: 1347)

The meeting room was thick with silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of papers or the creak of leather chairs. Tojo sat at the head of the long table, commanding respect and attention. Ashborn Yamaguchi stood opposite him, defiant under the council’s scrutiny. 

The Yomiyama's head voice cut through the room with a calm, measured tone. “Enough of this back-and-forth,” he said, his gaze fixed on Ashborn. “You have a unique talent, Ghoul. One that sets you apart from the rest. Because of that talent, we’re meeting here, not in a prison cell.” The gravity of his words was unmistakable, and the room seemed to hold its breath, fully aware that Tojo’s acknowledgment was rare and significant.

“To think of Akabayashi,” Tojo began, his voice dripping with contempt, “That vulture skulking off to Kirigakure or some other tainted rock on the eastern continent. Good riddance to him and his wretched talons. The world is better off without them.”

He paused for a moment, his eyes flashing with irritation before continuing. “And as for Atarashi Hiyu, he’s also far from the Nova Corps, where he ought to be. The absence of someone who styles himself as the Grave Digger is no great loss either.”

Tojo’s expression shifted slightly, revealing a flicker of pride as he mentioned his grandson. “At least Seto has made his mark. He’s won battles and proven himself in combat. But, regrettably, his personality leaves much to be desired. A disappointment, though a capable one.”

He leaned back in his chair, the lines of his face hardening. “With these individuals gone, the task of managing the aftermath of our battles falls to someone else. And while Phantom here may lack many of the qualities we value, his unique bloodline limit makes him an ideal candidate to fill the void.”

Tojo’s gaze settled on Ashborn with a mixture of expectation and resignation. The council members exchanged glances, understanding that the old man’s words carried a weight of both criticism and reluctant acceptance. The room was filled with a palpable tension as Tojo’s scornful judgments made way for a recognition of necessity.

Tojo’s gaze remained fixed on Ashborn, a blend of stern resolve and cautious hope. “This is your opportunity, Specter. Prove that your talent is not squandered. Rise to this challenge and restore honor to your name. Fail, you’ll find yourself out of this village—or worse, joining the ranks of other misfits in retirement. This is your chance to prove that you’re worth more than that.”

With those final words, Tojo leaned back in his chair, his expression a mix of finality and subtle encouragement. The room’s oppressive silence returned, the weight of Tojo’s expectations hanging heavily as Ashborn prepared to face the formidable task ahead.

[WC: 451]

Ashborn stood in the heart of the meeting room, the oppressive silence heavy around him. Tojo’s words had cut through the tension like a blade, leaving him with a grim understanding of his precarious situation. He felt the weight of the council's collective gaze, their scrutiny as palpable as the oppressive silence that filled the room.

The old man’s words echoed in his mind: If you fail, you’ll find yourself out of this village—or worse, left to join the ranks of other misfits in retirement. Ashborn's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles whitening as he fought to maintain his composure. The request was explicit, and the consequences of failure were unforgiving.

Tojo’s scornful nicknames—“Specter,” “Phantom,” “Ghoul”—replayed in Ashborn's mind, each one a sting that reminded him of how far he had fallen in the council’s eyes. The dismissive tone and derisive labels fueled his determination more than he cared to admit.

In truth, Ashborn had a few nicknames of his own for Tojo, such as “Old Snake,” among them. But he knew that proving himself required more than just firing back insults; he needed to demonstrate his worth through decisive and honorable actions.

With a steely resolve, Ashborn met Tojo's unyielding gaze, feeling the weight of the old man's expectations like a physical force. He was acutely aware that this was not just a test of his skills but of his very character. Tojo had acknowledged his unique talent, but the acknowledgment came with a heavy burden—a chance to redeem himself or face the consequences of his failings.

“Understood,” Ashborn said, his voice steady despite the turmoil. “My talents, which you seem to hold in such regard, will not go to waste. I will serve this village with the integrity it deserves.”

The room remained silent as Ashborn’s words hung in the air, a declaration of intent and a commitment to rise above the challenge. The council members watched him with a mix of skepticism and faint hope, their expectations tempered by Tojo’s harsh critique.

(WC: 336, TWC: 1683)

“Well, it seems you’ve managed to meet my modest expectations,” This voice laced with a hint of disbelief. He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before offering a faint smirk.“Welcome to the Tokubetsu Jounin Division—try not to embarrass us.”

Though laced with reluctant acknowledgment, Tojo's words carried an edge of begrudging acceptance more than genuine warmth, as if he saw this promotion as both a concession and a necessary evil. The old man’s eyes seemed to say that Ashborn’s new rank was a test rather than an accolade.

The council members sat silently for a moment, the gravity of the decision settling in. Toneri Hyuuga broke the quiet, his expression a mix of amusement and disinterest. He clapped slowly, his eyes glancing around with a hint of detached amusement.

"I do suppose everyone needs a hobby," Toneri quipped, his voice carrying a wry tone that cut through the tension. "Let’s see if Ashborn can make this worthwhile."

With his remark, the council members began to clap in a subdued but respectful manner. The applause, though polite, was tinged with a sense of formality rather than genuine enthusiasm. Standing off to the side, the Public Security officers muttered among themselves in hushed voices, clearly unimpressed or perhaps skeptical of the proceedings. They refrained from joining in the applause, their silence contrasting with the otherwise ceremonial atmosphere.

As the clapping died, a ceremonial uniform was brought forward—a crisp, new attire symbolizing Ashborn's new rank. The uniform was presented with a sense of ritual, immaculate fabric, and symbol of the Tokubetsu Jounin Division gleaming in the subdued light of the room.

Tojo stood before Ashborn, his gaze unwavering and sharp. The room was tense, every eye fixed on the old man as he prepared to conclude the ceremony. Tojo stood with a commanding presence, his eyes fixed on Ashborn with disdain and weary amusement. Heavy with anticipation, the room paused as Tojo prepared to deliver his closing remarks.

“Remember,” Tojo said, his voice dripping with sardonic edge, “This isn’t just about your little struggles. Through war or cunning—though I doubt you’ll manage much of either—we light the way.”

Their voices echoing with practiced reverence, the council members intoned together, “We light the way!”

With a subtle nod, he turned and began to exit, his two Yomiyama samurai following closely behind him. Their presence was a silent but constant reminder of the old man’s enduring power.

One by one, the members of public security rose, casting Ashborn impassive glances as they trailed after Tojo. Their nods were curt, acknowledging his promotion with a formality that lacked warmth. The other council members followed in measured steps, their faces revealing nothing of their true thoughts.

As the room slowly emptied, Toneri Hyuuga finally stood, his movements deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. He approached Ashborn casually, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "I thought I had it hard," he began, his tone light but laced with a touch of irony. "Listening to Lord Elderblade go on about how great he used to be at family feasts."

Ashborn’s brow furrowed slightly at the nickname, and Toneri caught the look. "You didn’t know?" Toneri asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "In his youth, Tojo was called the ‘Blade of Honor.’ A name that suited him back when he was all about principles and honor on the battlefield. Now, though... well, ‘Lord Elderblade’ seems more fitting. Although, now that I think about it, no one dares to call him that to his face."

With that, Toneri patted Ashborn on the shoulder, the touch of his gloved hand surprisingly warm. "I was there during your Genin Exam all those years ago; don't think I have forgotten that," Toneri said, his voice softening with a rare sincerity. "Seeing you rise in the ranks is fitting."

He offered Ashborn a small smile before stepping back, his demeanor shifting back to its usual nonchalance. "See you around, Grave Digger," Toneri quipped, his tone teasing but not unkind. As he turned to leave, he paused by the door where Yasha Okami still stood watchful.

Toneri gave Yasha a nod, his expression solemn. "You too, Nova. Make sure you do a good job guarding my brother. Or whatever it is you white cloaks do these days." With that, Toneri walked out, and Yasha's usual calm was tinged with unease, not because of Toneri’s words—he had learned to tune those out long ago—but because of the gravity of Ashborn’s new role. As he observed the younger man, Yasha couldn’t shake the feeling that, in some ways, he saw a reflection of himself—an outsider within Hoshigakure, struggling to find his place in a village that often felt more like a battlefield than a home.

Born far away in Takigakure, the Land of Waterfall, Yasha knew all too well what it was like to be judged by those who only saw the surface. The air there hummed with the promise of hidden power, much like the undercurrents of Hoshigakure. Ashborn, despite being born just miles from the village on the coast of Haven, shared a similar fate. The irony wasn’t lost on Yasha: two men from different lands, both outsiders in their own right, were now bound by a village that demanded more than it gave.

"Ashborn," Yasha called softly, his voice low and discreet. He glanced around to ensure they were alone before stepping closer. "I need a moment." He saw in Ashborn the same quiet resolve he once had—a determination to prove his worth, even when the odds were stacked against him. Without a word, Yasha produced a small, age-worn scroll from his robes, its edges frayed with time.

"This... might be of use," Yasha said cryptically, pressing the scroll into Ashborn’s hand. His gaze was intense, a mix of concern and urgency. "The contents will burn after you read them. Don’t ask questions—do what needs to be done."

He offered a faint, almost reluctant smile, his eyes betraying a blend of hope and uncertainty. Yasha trusted Ashborn not just for his potential but because he knew what it was like to be underestimated and an outsider fighting for a place in a world that didn’t readily accept him.

"Good luck," Yasha added, a rare flicker of emotion in his voice. "And... congratulations."

[WC: 1055]