Rough Diamond [P]

As the meeting room cleared, Ashborn lingered, absorbing the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded. The promotion to Tokubetsu Jounin had come as a surprise, and he admired the new uniform draped over his shoulders. Black had always been his color, and it now seemed to fit him perfectly, amplifying his sense of identity and accomplishment.

Tojo’s condescending remarks, though biting, were nothing new. Ashborn had long learned to dismiss the old man’s disdain, focusing instead on the journey that had brought him to this point. He recalled the day Toneri had made him a Genin; it felt like it had happened just yesterday. The path from then to now had been challenging, but it had led him to this significant milestone.

Toneri’s jest about “Lord Elderblade” was a reminder of Tojo’s storied past. Ashborn was well aware of Tojo’s legendary status and the tales that circulated about him in Tsukiakari. Tojo had been a local hero in Haven long before Hoshigakure existed, and standing in his shadow was a mix of awe and determination. Yet, after their encounter, Ashborn had more questions than answers.

It was Yasha’s unexpected gift that left the most profound impression. The scroll, marked with a diamond logo, was enigmatic and spoke of more than mere ceremony. Yasha’s solemn respect conveyed a trust that transcended titles and uniforms. Ashborn’s throat tightened as he held the scroll, the significance of the diamond emblem weighing heavily on him.

“Thank you, Master Yasha,” Ashborn said softly, his voice barely steady. “I didn’t expect a gesture like this... it feels like a key to something beyond this promotion.” He looked at Yasha with a hint of gratitude and amusement. “In a nest of adders, finding a friend is a surprise, especially when navigating a promotion like this. I’ll make the most of what I’ve been given.”

As Ashborn examined the scroll, the diamond symbol caught his eye, its intricate design gleaming subtly even in the dim light. He turned the symbol over in his mind, letting it resonate with his thoughts and ambitions. The nicknames he had been burdened with—"the Ghoul," "the Gravedigger"—seemed to dissolve in the shadow of this new emblem. A quiet resolve settled within him. "I wouldn’t just be another name on the list," a small smile playing on his lips. "I’ll carve out my legend. Ashborn the Diamond. After all, diamonds are found in the rough."

(WC: 402, TWC: 2085)

After the wearying ordeal of the meeting, Yasha emerged onto the street, burdened by the weight of the day’s events. The cool evening air was a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat of the council chamber. There, leaning casually against a wall with a grin that seemed almost too genuine for these times, was Daiki Yomiyama. With his affable charm and effortless grace, Daiki was a notable figure from the Yomiyama clan, his ease providing a welcome balm to Yasha’s frayed nerves.

“Yasha!” Daiki called out, his voice rich with warmth. “You look as though the day has worn you thin. Care to join me for a drink?”

Grateful for the respite, Yasha accepted without hesitation. Daiki led him through the winding streets to a sake shop nestled in a quieter corner of Hoshigakure. Daiki’s grin widened as they walked, and he quipped, “I trust my grandfather wasn’t too much of a scourge tonight?”

Yasha’s lips curled into a wry smile. “Let’s just say he’s a master of the dramatic. At least he managed to silence Toneri, if only momentarily. Though once your grandsire departed, Toneri’s tongue was back in full swing. And now there’s a labyrinth of intrigue for the Public Security Division.”

Daiki chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye. “Ah, the Public Security Division. They’re like a shadowy specter hovering over us all. But the interservice rivalry is as old as the hills. It keeps the game interesting, wouldn’t you agree?”

Inside the sake shop, the air was thick with the warmth of camaraderie and the muted glow of lanterns. The room hummed with the clinking of glasses and the murmur of animated conversations. Daiki guided Yasha to a table already crowded with familiar faces, each one greeting him with raucous cheers and hearty toasts. Empty sake bottles littered the table, remnants of an evening dedicated to forgetting their troubles.

“Yasha! Daiki!” a boisterous patron bellowed, slapping Yasha on the back with the force of a friendly bear. “Join us! We’re drowning our grievances tonight, and you look like you need a drink.”

The tension from the meeting slowly dissipated as Yasha accepted a fresh cup, the warmth of the sake spreading through him like a soothing fire. As the night wore on, conversation grew increasingly lively, fueled by the steady stream of alcohol. Former Hoshi shinobi grumbled and ranted about recent retirements and the shifting tides within the Corps.

“It’s a bloody mess,” one veteran declared, his speech slurred but his frustration palpable. “The old guard is gone, and everything feels like it’s coming apart at the seams.”

“Good riddance!” another voice chimed in, more hopeful. “The Nova Corps was a glorified death squad under the old regime. Maybe this new blood will bring about some real change.”

Daiki leaned in, his smirk a knowing shadow. “If Ayato hadn’t taken you under his wing after Stein’s arrest, you’d have been next on the chopping block. No offense, Yasha, but you’d have been right there with the rest of them.”

Although the jest struck a deeper chord than he cared to reveal, Yasha chuckled. “Some truth to that,” he conceded, swirling his sake thoughtfully. “The fall of the old regime must be a relief to many. They had their share of flaws.”


Daiki raised his cup with a grand flourish, a glint of mischief dancing in his eye. “To new beginnings and the shifting of old guard!” he proclaimed, his voice cutting through the din of the sake shop. “May the future be kinder than the past and our fortunes brighter!” The room erupted in a cacophony of cheers, glasses clinking in a raucous salute reverberating through the warm, bustling space.

As the revelry swirled around them, the conversation veered toward the upcoming Nova Corps Tournament. The air grew thick with anticipation as the group engaged in spirited debates over strategies and potential upsets. Each person’s voice rose enthusiastically, hopes and predictions flowing as freely as the sake.

Leaning in with a devilish grin, Daiki lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Word has it there’s a new wildcard in the mix this year, a contender famed for their unpredictability.”

An old veteran, face lined with the wisdom of years and battles, nodded sagely. “Aye, I’ve heard whispers of such a one. It could shift the balance of the entire tournament if the rumors hold. But let us hope it’s not merely talk to fill the taverns.”

Yasha chuckled softly, his earlier tension melting in the company's warmth. “If they are half as unpredictable as Daiki here, it will be an event to remember.”

As the night wore on, Daiki’s curiosity turned to probing. “Yasha, we’ve discussed the future at length, but I wonder—what drew you to the life of a shinobi in the first place?”

Yasha paused, his gaze growing distant as if searching through the fog of time. “Truth be told, the reasons are hazy. It feels like a faded memory, something I’ve done for as long as I can recall. Perhaps it was to prove my worth or find my place amid the world's chaos. Whatever the cause, it has become entwined with who I am.”

Daiki’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with appreciation. “An intriguing sentiment. Often, we embark on paths without knowing their full meaning, only to find clarity in hindsight. And it seems to have served you well—like winning Shina’s heart. I hear she’s now off to the Land of Birds on some diplomatic mission.”

Yasha arched an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his face. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

Daiki shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Just a touch of idle gossip. It appears fortune has favored you.”

Yasha smiled with a warmth that spoke of pride and contentment. “I suppose you could say that. Moments like these remind me of why it’s all worth it.”

With a mischievous grin, Daiki raised his cup once more. “To surprises and the capriciousness of fate! May we all find luck in the chaos and joy in the unexpected.”

The room erupted in jubilant cheers, their voices melding into the lively clamor of the sake shop. As the night unfolded, Yasha savored the companionship and spirited discourse, the day's burdens gradually lifting with each shared tale and hearty laugh.

When the time came for him to leave, he felt a renewed vigor settling within him. With a final, appreciative glance at the lively crowd, he stepped into the night's cool embrace, the evening's warmth lingering as he braced himself for the challenges yet to come.

[WC: 1091]

Ashborn pushed open the door to his apartment, the faint creak echoing in the stillness. The soft click of the door closing behind him seemed unusually loud, amplifying the emptiness that greeted him. Flicking on the light, he revealed a sparsely furnished room with bare walls, the silence almost oppressive after the day's events.

He walked to the small kitchen and placed the scroll Yasha had given him on the counter. The diamond emblem intrigued him, but exhaustion weighed heavily on his mind, dulling his curiosity. As he filled a glass of water and downed it in one gulp, the refrigerator’s hum was the only sound mingling with the day's lingering tension.

The shower beckoned. He stripped off his uniform, tossed it onto a chair, and stepped into the bathroom, where steam from the hot water offered a welcome contrast to the cold emptiness outside. The water cascaded over him, washing away the grime and sweat of the day, though it did little to clear his mind.

He leaned against the cool tile and let the water run over his face. Memories of the day flashed before him—Yasha’s firm guidance, the weight of the promotion, and the enigmatic diamond-inscribed scroll. These thoughts pressed on him, blending with a deep weariness.

Turning off the water, he stepped out into the cool air, wrapping a towel around himself. Avoiding his reflection in the foggy mirror, he dressed in simple clothes and made his way to his bed, the silence of the apartment enveloping him once more.

The bed was unmade, sheets tangled from restless nights. He collapsed onto it, pulling the blankets over himself as if they could shield him from his intrusive thoughts. His mind wandered to his mother, Yasha, and the legends he was determined to forge, but tonight, the weight of it all felt unbearable.

As sleep overtook him, the silence transformed into a dream that felt more like a vision—an intricate blend of past and future.

He found himself in a vast field under a sky of endless black. The moon cast an eerie light, illuminating two figures emerging from the darkness: his younger self, clutching a sword too large for him, and Yasha, alive but with a distant, sorrowful look.

The younger Ashborn raised his sword defiantly. “I’ll prove them wrong,” he declared into the void. “I’ll make my name.”

Yasha watched silently, his expression unreadable. The scene abruptly shifted, and Ashborn found himself in a darkened room, where a dim, almost transparent Yasha loomed over him. A creeping dread settled in.

Suddenly, the vision shifted. He stood on the edge of a cliff, the wind howling around him. Below, the sea churned violently, crashing against the rocks with fury. A deep, resonant voice echoed in his mind. “Diamonds are found in the rough, Ashborn. But to shine, they must be cut.”

The dream shifted again, and Ashborn found himself before the Yamaguchi crypt near Tsukiakari. Dragons of vibrant red and gold danced across the night sky, their scales shimmering with an otherworldly glow. Below, the ground trembled as a massive green dragon rose from the earth, roaring triumphantly. A one-eyed man with flowing white hair commanded the scene atop the dragon.

Desperately seeking refuge, Ashborn tried to enter the crypt. But a voice—echoing with the authority of his grandmother and every Yamaguchi since the era of the Cataclysm—barred his entry. “This is not your place. You broke the pact.”

The crypt’s entrance remained shut, and as Ashborn turned away, the ground darkened. Shadows swirled ominously, forming fleeting, unsettling images that faded before he could fully grasp them. He woke with a start, his heart racing and his body covered in cold sweat. The remnants of the dream lingered in the darkness, the prophetic words echoing in his mind, leaving him with a lingering unease.

The silence of the apartment returned, now filled with a new determination. Ashborn lay back down, the weight of his mission heavy on his chest. He closed his eyes, knowing that sleep would not come quickly tonight. The journey would be long, but he was ready to carve his path and find his light in the darkness.

And so, in the quiet of the night, Ashborn drifted back to sleep, unaware of how soon his dream would begin to unravel into reality.

(WC: 720, TWC: 2805)

As Yasha neared his front door, his mind wandered to the life he yearned for beyond the ceaseless conflict. Shina, the one constant amidst his turbulent world, occupied his thoughts, softening the hardened edges of his resolve. Tomorrow, he promised himself, when she returned, he would ask her to be his wife. He felt the weight of the simple band hidden in his pocket, a symbol of the future he longed to build—one far removed from the violence that had come to define him.

He unlocked the door and was met with a profound silence that seemed to press upon him with an almost tangible weight. The stillness contrasted sharply with the evening’s earlier vibrancy, an unsettling hush that clung to him as he moved through the dimly lit rooms. His thoughts lingered on the night’s discussions, trying to dispel the creeping dread that shadowed him.

Then came the faintest creak of floorboards—a subtle disturbance enough to stir adrenaline. Muffled voices and a sinister rustling began to infiltrate the silence, echoing through the dark recesses of his mind. His instincts, honed by years of conflict, snapped into action.

He spun around, eyes widening in terror as figures clad in dark garb emerged from the shadows. Their faces were ghostly pale, their movements silent and ominous. His sanctuary had been breached.

The intruders wore armor of a distinctive grey-brown hue, melding seamlessly with the dim surroundings. Their attire—a combination of rigid plates and flexible fabric—was designed for stealth and agility. Smooth, expressionless, and angular ANBU masks obscured their identities.

Yasha counted six of them, each a looming threat. The leader, a tall figure brandishing a sword, stepped forward with a chilling air of confidence. "We’ve come for the Diamond Release, Yasha," he said, his voice a cold whisper of menace. "Hand it over, and we’ll make this swift."

Six. The number echoed in Yasha’s mind, a grim reminder of his predicament. Six was too many—an insurmountable challenge. He had no chance against six. No chance and no choice.

His fists clenched, his white Nova Corps cloak flaring behind him like a spectral remnant of his former glory. His sharp and unyielding eyes were fixed on the attackers. "I’m right here," he growled, his voice a low rumble of defiance. "Come and take it."

The night erupted into chaos as if the darkness conspired to witness the final dance of bloodshed. Yasha moved with the fluidity of a seasoned warrior, each movement a testament to his relentless training. As a spear lunged towards him, he sidestepped with a sharp pivot, delivering a counter-punch that sent the attacker reeling. “You’re still wet behind the ears!” Yasha snarled, ducking beneath a swift sword swing and answering with a powerful uppercut that left his foe gasping.

Among his assailants was a swordsman with eyes as cold as winter’s breath. His blade sliced through the air, aiming for Yasha’s midsection. Yasha ducked beneath the blade, exploiting the attacker’s momentary imbalance. He seized the advantage and twisted the swordsman’s arm, throwing him to the ground. Yasha unleashed a flurry of blows without pause until another assailant wrenched him away.

Meanwhile, a figure moved like a shadow, throwing shuriken and kunai with deadly precision. Yasha dodged and weaved, but the rain of projectiles and the relentless spear thrusts exposed him. The spear-wielding attacker drove his weapon into Yasha’s back with chilling precision, sending a wave of agony through him and staggering him forward.

“You’re finished, Okami!” one attacker roared, their voices rising as they pressed their advantage. Yasha’s white cloak, once a symbol of honor, now flowed around him like a storm of blood in the snow.

Despite the searing pain, Yasha fought on. But as he tried to steady himself, the swordsman’s blade found its mark, slicing into his side and draining his strength. As he sank to one knee, the world around him blurred, and the sounds of battle faded into an eerie silence.

The night cast a foreboding shadow over the scene as the attackers' leader loomed over Yasha, his gaze cold and triumphant. The mixture of grudging respect and harsh malice in his expression seemed to savor the sight of Yasha’s bloodied form. “I’ll give you this, Okami,” he said, his voice chilling with grudging admiration and contempt. "You were a hard man to bring down. We threw everything we had at you, and you made us sweat for it. You’re a stubborn piece of work.

Despite the searing pain wrapping his body, Yasha’s eyes met the captain’s with a defiant spark, his lips curving into a bitter smirk. "And I’ll grant you this much... you’re a stubborn piece of shit."

The captain’s eyes narrowed, his composure barely holding. “Your bravado changes nothing. The Diamond Release will be ours; we will reshape this village as it should be.”

Although weakened by the toll of battle, Yasha's voice still carried the weight of his resolve. “I'd never hand that power over to a traitor like you,” he spat, his words laced with a defiance that burned as fiercely as the pain coursing through him. “The Diamond Release is with someone who will use it to protect, not to bring this village to ruin.”

The captain's eyes narrowed as he crouched down, his face inches from Yasha’s. His whisper was cold, calculated, and dripping with menace. “Traitor? Treason is just a word, Okami,” he replied, his tone mocking. “A word that losers cling to when the world changes around them. If we succeed, history will call us heroes, and your so-called loyalty will be seen for its foolishness. We’re fighting for the future of Hoshigakure, for a world that doesn’t need relics like you.”

Yasha’s gaze bore into the captain’s, unflinching despite the agony that racked his body. “When you find the one I entrusted it to,” he said, his voice steadied by a profound, unshakable certainty, “they’ll be ready for you. And they’ll finish what I started.”

The captain stood, his frustration evident in the tightness of his jaw, though he maintained his cold composure. “You’ve only delayed the inevitable, Okami. Do you think your defiance means anything? Ultimately, your death will be meaningless when we find the Diamond Release. Your so-called sacrifice will be forgotten, a footnote in our victory.”

Yasha’s lips curled into a final, defiant smile, even as the darkness closed around him. “Better to die fighting against your twisted cause than live as a coward in your new world. You’ll never understand that.”

The captain’s jaw clenched, his silence betraying the simmering frustration that boiled beneath the surface. Unable to contain his anger, one of the operatives lashed out with a vicious kick to Yasha’s side. The blow landed with a dull thud, but Yasha, already numb to the pain, barely flinched. “Damn it!” the operative snarled, his voice crackling with barely suppressed fury. “He must have passed the element along before we could get our hands on it. Who did he give it to?”

Another operative, his rage spilling over, spat out a response, his words laced with venom. “It doesn’t matter who has it now. The Nova Corps Tournament is just around the corner. We’ll use that to slip one of our own into power. With a vacancy in the Seven, we can infiltrate, take control, and seize the element.”

A third operative, more cautious but no less urgent, interjected, his tone contrasting with the others. “That’s all well and good, but are we prepared to confront Akaboshi directly if it goes south? It took all of us to bring down Yasha; he was just one man—a relic of the old Nova Corps. If we overextend ourselves, we risk compromising everything.”

The operative who had kicked Yasha sneered, though his irritation was evident. “And what about Takigakure? Are we just going to leave him here like this?”

The captain’s smile twisted into something darker, more sinister, as he looked down at Yasha’s lifeless form. “They’ll find him soon enough. Let them tear each other apart, trying to figure out who’s responsible. Lord Elderblade will suspect the Hoshimura and the Hoshimura will point fingers at the Yomiyamas. Aokidanza will be dragged into the chaos before long. By the time they finally uncover the truth, we’ll have what we need.”

As their voices faded, Yasha’s thoughts drifted, the cold numbing his pain and sharpening the awareness that the end was near. He thought of Shina, his steadfast fiancée; Zeo Kamigawa, the surrogate son whose future he’d never see; and Ayato, the Hogokage of his past. As darkness closed in, a strange peace settled over him. The crimson-stained cloak, once a symbol of honor, now wrapped around him like a final embrace—his last breath mingling with the night air, a silent testament to a warrior’s end.

The ANBU leader lingered momentarily, his gaze fixed on Yasha’s still form, his expression inscrutable. It was as if he was weighing the gravity of what had just transpired, the implications of their actions hanging heavy in the air. But he offered no words, no indication of remorse or doubt. Finally, he turned to his team, his voice cold and detached. “Move out,” he commanded. “Our mission here is complete.”

And with that, they vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only the echoes of their departure and the cold, lifeless body of a man who had fought to his last breath. The village would wake to the aftermath, unaware of the sacrifices made in the dark. But for Yasha, the battle was over; his story was written in blood, and his legacy was left to those who would carry on in his stead.

[WC: 1587]
[TWC: 5294]

Claiming with a 25% Max stat discount

1517 to level up Tenketsu Needle  to A-rank [358+ 1517 =1875/1875]
1538 to finish Death Point Striking [337 + 1538 = 1875/1875]
1875  to Whispering Orb [1875/1875]
364 to Phantom Strider [364/1875]

Previous progress can be found here

With the conclusion of this roleplay chapter, we also mark the death of Yasha Okami, a member of the Nova Corps (NPC).

Dawn cast a pale shadow over the blood-streaked horizon as Ashborn walked through the deserted streets of Hoshigakure. The village, once a bastion of order, now trembled with an undercurrent of fear. Panic had swept through like wildfire, ignited by Yasha’s sudden disappearance. Roused from uneasy dreams by relentless pounding on his door, Ashborn had been unable to ignore the summons. The weight of the news settled heavily in his chest.

Hoshi forces had cordoned off the area around Yasha’s apartment, their presence a somber acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Ashborn’s gaze lingered on the masked figure—a Nova Corps member—standing vigil over Yasha’s body. Their identity was hidden behind an impassive mask, their shared grief unspoken yet palpable. Ashborn's steps were slow and deliberate as he crossed into the dimly lit room, the stench of blood hanging thick in the air.

He had not anticipated that his first task would be this somber. Yasha had been many things—a comrade, a warrior, a steadfast presence amid uncertainty. His death was a wound that would fester in the heart of the village. Ashborn’s eyes fell on the dried blood that had soaked into Yasha’s once-proud cloak, now a rigid, crimson testament to the recent battle.

With a heavy sigh, Ashborn knelt beside Yasha’s lifeless form. The room felt smaller now, the walls pressing in with the weight of the unspoken. He reached into his pouch and unfurled a corpse storage scroll, the paper rustling softly. The seals came to him with practiced ease, each one a silent farewell to a fallen brother.

The task was swift, yet it felt achingly final. Ashborn watched as Yasha’s body was drawn into the scroll, vanishing into the void where the dead could no longer be defiled. Nova Corps members’ bodies were repositories of knowledge, not to be desecrated. Yasha would be sent to the White Clock Tower, his remains destined for the pyre, while his secrets remained safely guarded.

Ashborn lingered, the scroll resting on his lap. The air was thick with unasked questions. How long before one of Yasha’s secrets—secrets he might have known or carried—would reveal itself? And how long before those responsible for this violence came seeking what they believed was theirs?

Rising slowly, Ashborn felt the weight of his new responsibilities settle onto his shoulders. The village was a powder keg, and Yasha’s death had lit the fuse. The battle for Hoshigakure’s soul had only just begun, and Ashborn was now at its heart.

As he left the apartment, the Nova Corps operative inclined their head in silent acknowledgment. No words of comfort or promises of retribution were offered—such things were empty in their line of work. All that remained was duty and the resolve to see their mission through. Ashborn stepped into the new day, the scroll tucked safely away, along with the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

The wind picked up, whispering through the silent village, carrying the scent of death and the promise of further bloodshed to come.

(Exit)

(TWC: 3308)
Claims:
- 16 stats to Chakra (max stats now)
- 2000/2000 Diamond Release
- 1308 towards Puppetry specialty
- permission to learn Diamond Release
- promotion to Tokubetsu Jounin as well as the 20.000 ryo from achieving said rank

Ayato Hyuuga wrote:

[WC: 1587]
[TWC: 5294]

Claiming with a 25% Max stat discount

1517 to level up Tenketsu Needle  to A-rank [358+ 1517 =1875/1875]
1538 to finish Death Point Striking [337 + 1538 = 1875/1875]
1875  to Whispering Orb [1875/1875]
364 to Phantom Strider [364/1875]

Previous progress can be found here

With the conclusion of this roleplay chapter, we also mark the death of Yasha Okami, a member of the Nova Corps (NPC).

Approved

Ashborn wrote:

(TWC: 3308)
Claims:
- 16 stats to Chakra (max stats now)
- 2000/2000 Diamond Release
- 1308 towards Puppetry specialty
- permission to learn Diamond Release
- promotion to Tokubetsu Jounin as well as the 20.000 ryo from achieving said rank

Approved