Hare Today, Gone Tomorrow.

Deeb emerged from the harsh winter's frost, mostly unscathed, and left the dense forests of the hospitable Fire Country behind. As he began his journey, he found himself alone in the vast expanse of the wilderness, with only memories of social interactions to keep him entertained. The young buck wondered what his ancestors did during their times of solidarity and how they kept themselves occupied. Even the hungry spirit of his forefathers within him was fading, and he felt disconnected from their past. It had been almost a year since Deeb had engaged in any physical activity, and his cleverness in finding food had eliminated any need for exercise. He subsisted on a diet of plants, and he could feel his body becoming sluggish and weak. Deeb knew that his ancestors and descendants would be disappointed in his current state, and he longed to regain the vitality and strength of his forefathers.

Deeb stealthily peered out of the dense forest thicket, watching as the sun sank below the horizon, painting the vast rice fields with its last rays. He had survived on the local farmers' stolen grains for over two months. The Ajin's heart leapt with joy as, finally, an opportunity to leap down from the embankment and wriggle his toes in the soft soil of the fields. By attentively observing the farmers' cultivation techniques, Deeb could discern their routine break times, which he took advantage of to carry out his thieving activities. However, Deeb's shrewd mind saw beyond just stealing grains for survival. He could redistribute the knowledge from observing the farmers' practices to optimise cultivation procedures in less fortunate places. The Tribe would appreciate a more efficient and productive system for feeding The People. Through his crude estimation and barbarian cunning, Deeb deduced that he was in a subsidiary nation of another greater nation, which only fueled his desire to learn more about the practices of the farmers and the nations they belonged to.

Deeb stood in awe as he gazed at the meticulously irrigated fields, stretching as far as his eyes could see. The land appeared to have been conquered by someone or something, leaving a mark of domination on this outlying region. The area's residents were a sombre and reserved lot, with their heads down, working tirelessly in the fields. Occasionally, Deeb would glimpse a smile or hear a burst of hearty laughter when farmers exchanged stories in the evening. However, such moments were few and far between, and the overall atmosphere was turbulence and bleakness. Deeb longed to communicate with them, to learn about their culture and traditions, but he found it hard to penetrate their guarded exterior. He knew that gaining valuable resources while minimising environmental disruption was crucial, so he quietly navigated through their fields in the evening, searching for sustenance and trying not to disturb their way of life.

Deeb's body was a testament to the harsh conditions of Fire Country, with most of his reserve body fat burnt away. The young man was lean and sinewy, his muscles taut and his movements sharp. Despite his physical fitness, Deeb couldn't shake the feeling of angst that gnawed at him. He was surviving but not thriving, and the constant struggle to stay alive had taken its toll on him. His thoughts were slow and muddled, his instincts dulled by the constant stress of his surroundings. Looking around, he realised he was alone, with no allies or friends to rely on. Deeb knew he could not pass into the afterlife proudly if his funeral were a pauper's grave. Deeb's soul would be restless if a worthy being did not consume his flesh after he died.

Deeb, the weary traveller, was overwhelmed by the thought of meeting an undignified end. Thus, he packed his belongings and continued his journey towards the coast, hoping to find solace. The arduous task of passing through the forests had already drained him of his energy, and Deeb desperately needed some respite. He couldn't wait to breathe in the salty ocean air and indulge in fresh fish, which he believed would rejuvenate him. Deeb hoped to catch a saltwater fish himself and debone it without difficulty, providing him with a satisfying meal and a much-needed energy boost for the rest of his journey. He daydreamed of small pleasantries and old friends while traversing the outskirts of rice fields and the forests. Deeb looked over his meagre belongings, taking inventory. The fur of the colossal rabbit that had ambushed Deeb was in a bundle on his back for safekeeping. His clothing was threadbare and garishly marred by mud. If someone needed this Rabbit Fur, Deeb was determined to find them and establish a mercantile rapport. The soles of his feet were rough and weathered from wading in the cool water. He yearned for the comforting aroma of a freshly cooked meal that would warm his heart and make him feel at home.

Word Count: 821

The Bandit suck his teeth with almost every step, traversing the rice field with weary eyes. His boots suffered the most from it, although they were designed for it, they happened to very well be designer nonetheless. His journey from the land of hotsprings was , his interest in the religious trials dried up faster than the blood spilled in it's name. He was to fall back and recuperate, perhaps plan some other scheme to secure his place in the woods. His path from the east, however tedious it was, lined him u with another individual who happened to be equally hard pressed from a long journey. His pale right eye clocked the roaming vagabond at about 100 meters. "Hmm, this outta be good...", he muttered to himself. He knew not what ties the person ahead held, but nevertheless, he remained on guard. He was simply too tired to deal with any bullshit today.

Katsuragi's attire consisted of a Yakuta black leather jacket, altered to that of a vest. The inner workings still functional with no hindrance. Underneath his vest, he wears a navy blue hoodie. His belt is black leather, designer's choice, with an overlapping LV emblem as a buckle. Attached to the right side of his belt, a knife holster to which Bushranger rested in. The locking strapped to keep it in the holster was buttoned in, although easily retrievable with a willful draw. Behind, were attached two weapon pouches with various tools and such for assistance. His pouches are covered by his hoodie, but are still accessible with ease. His pants being that of a fresh pair of black stretch jeans with ankle zippers located on the lower inside section of the pants. His boots on his feet also being solid black of a leather material with an emblem labeled "EU", it's made of metal stitched to the tongue of the boots. His hair, still vivid, was a solid dark purple. His hair in contrast with his pale skin, however, his arms torso and hands bore a mural of mostly assorted prison tattoos; all black ink in color. He himself stood at a height of 6'2 feet with a thin frame. His other tools and such were also assorted evenly along his attire, given no hint to their whereabouts yet allowed him easy access with a little bit of technique due to his skill with the hidden arms technique.

His crossbow, Mugger's Mark, was held against his back with an adjustable rope strap that wrapped around his torso, right shoulder to the lower left side of his torso. Tied in such a way for easy retrieval.

The bleeding rays of the sun were kept as they were, behind him as he advanced towards the rather tattered ebony haired vagabond. Reaching 20 meters, he observed the guy rummaging through his own personal things. He looked very frail, as if he didn't eat nor slept for sometime. It happens, tough times down on your luck. Katsuragi knew this all too well.

His first few days, finally serving his rather annoying sentence in Pelican Island, had him once again doing petty crimes from a kiddy plate of food. Nevertheless, he advancement halted, now standing 20 meters away from the boy. His boots saturated in dirt and mud, he looks onward to the vagabond with both of his hands remaining at his side.

"What's good my guy? You look like you're fresh out of the pen. Which one was it? Pelican island? Cloud Prison?", his words sang loud while his mind figured quietly behind the scene, trying to figure out the next move. Hence the rather lengthy distance kept, for good measure.
---
TWC 610

The sound of an unfamiliar voice caught the attention of the jumbuck, whose ears perked up. Deeb, lost in thought, emerged from his contemplation and was relieved to see that the stranger was willing to communicate. Despite his small size, Deeb's muscles tensed beneath his clothing, and he set his jaw with determination. He was used to being treated delicately but had the determination of his ancestors to be noticed. The stranger asked him questions in colloquial expressions that Deeb struggled to understand. He took some time to reflect silently before answering. Deeb started speaking carefully, attempting to convey his message without agitating the other person.

"My guy, I am not doing the best; I will not lie," Deeb said hoarsely. His craven eyes gleaned over the stranger's tattoos. The vagabond quickly averted his gaze, politely trying not to meet the man's eye. Deeb's body language was rigid beneath the mottled brown shirt and pants that hung from his frame. The only thing Deeb possessed that might have attracted this man's attention was the large rabbit fur slung comfortably across his shoulders. "Tribe is scattered; People lost," he nervously unloaded his existential burden with as much indifference as a man without strength may muster.

Deeb, a young man with ram-like horns, stood before a stranger with a heavy heart, feeling remorseful. Members of the Ajin tribe faced brutal persecution because of their unique beliefs and appearances. The Ajin and the shinobi have contested resources since ancient times. Despite the threat of extinction, he remained calm and tried to appear humble. Raising his empty hands slowly, Deeb indicated surrender non-verbally, hoping to ease the tension. He then introduced himself politely, pointing to himself and saying, "Greetings. I am Deeb, a member of the Ajin Tribe. How may I assist you today?" His diction couldn't have been more deliberate, conveying a desire to be concise by exposing his lack of vibrancy as a fluent linguist. Deeb inclined his horns respectfully, demonstrating his docility.

Deeb cautiously approached the stranger, hoping for a civilised interaction. He knew that the Ajin were known for their violent tendencies, so he kept a distance of fifteen meters to avoid misunderstandings. Despite his calm demeanour, Deeb couldn't help but feel a sense of unease approaching the unidentified missing ninja. He was worried that his current state of health might prevent him from negotiating effectively. Getting closer, Deeb noticed the stranger was armed and ready for potential threats. The concealed armaments only added to his apprehension, but he remained composed and focused on his goal. He had something valuable that he wanted to sell, and he hoped that the stranger would be interested in buying it. Deeb felt a sense of ire at the prospect of the stranger confiscating his valuable item instead of offering fair compensation. He had put much effort into acquiring it and didn't want to be taken advantage of.

Word Count: 487
Total Word Count: 1,308.

The Bandit eyed the slung rabbit fur that was along the horned man's shoulder while he spoke, a useful piece of material that could augment many of his own pieces of hardware. Katsuragi had developed quite the hobby of augmenting weaponry, it was bound to happen due to the many visits to the blacksmiths. The more he visited, the higher the prices got. It take a genius to realize that he was being taken for ride. Whelp, no longer.

His left brow jolted up, upon hearing he was of a tribe and a lost one at that. Was he really out here all alone? His pale eye revealed that to be true at the moment. Within 100 meter radius, it was just the two of them. Of course counting the 2 dirt farmers nearby, but  they didn't see like a threat at the moment. His gaze turned to the horns of the frail one, "Yeah, it be like that sometimes. Yep. it's get worse for it gets better. Because if you aint pushing , you fallin", he ended, his gaze returned to the rabbit fur. He had to have it, might even throw it on one of his old Flak jackets.

He sucks his teeth while reaching into the back left pouch with his left hand in a slow manner. "You know what, Deebs, is it? AYEjin Tribe huh? You can help me. Lemme get that fur off you, you can use the money to get a ride outta the paddies. Nothin but farmers and tiresome work", he retrieves a wad of cash. It was only a small fraction of what he carried, but held it out in front of him at 15 meters. He then proceeds further, only to stop 5 meters. He would let the other advance if he would care to sell it.

"How bout it, 6,000 ryo?"
---
TWC: 920

Sincerely considering the gesture, in earnest faith, Deeb could not afford to be suspicious. The vagabond couldn't help but appreciate the fortuitousness of the proposal, given the difficult circumstances. Deeb found himself nodding as he listened to the stranger's empathetic words of comfort. The heartfelt sentiment behind the rhetoric was impossible to ignore, and it was clear that the stranger truly understood what he was going through—a lump formed in his throat as he recognised the currency and how it would help him. Deeb's feet hurt from walking, and although he had many miles to go, the fur's weight was becoming abrasive despite its luxurious qualities.

The stranger's decisive actions facilitated the Ajin's considerations. Thoughtfully, Deeb proposed an opportunity to haggle. "I would like to offer you a lower price as a gesture of my gratitude for your kindness towards me." Deeb was unfamiliar with commerce and trade, but he wanted both parties to feel they had secured a good deal. "Sometimes, it is not what something costs but what it is worth." He looked again at the undeterminable amount of ryo before shaking his horns,"More than I need." The weight of shame loomed over Deeb like a shadow at his feet. If people saw Ajin People like this, they would assume that they were a weak and dissonant tribe.

If Ajin had opulent fears and misconceptions of shinobi, Deeb would answer their questions with a profoundly interpersonal interpretation of this particular exchange. However, Deeb thought his story would carry more weight if someone heard him. Deeb could not afford to die here, amidst the rice fields and trees, to be consumed by flies, frogs, and crows. His tribe would mock his soul, and he could not allow that.

He accepted the offer: the rabbit fur for the money. "5,000 ryo." Deeb extended the Rabbit Fur to the man with one hand, his heart racing with anticipation. With his other hand, he received the proffered money, leaving one thousand ryo, if able. "Thank you. " Deeb bleated before grinning sheepishly. Deeb appraised what he would do next before continuing.

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Word Count: 350.
Total Word Count: 1,658.

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Mid-Thread Claim.
Iron Veins (C-Rank) 1,000/1,000.

Who was he to not take a deal, "Deal.", he stated quickly. He strolls over within his arms distance, his smirk growing wider with each step in anticipation. However, he he decides to sweeten the deal in attempt to dissuade him form running his mouth about the face he had seen. Although Katsuragi was playing the humble merchant, a true believer in the art of hustling, he was still very much indeed a wanted man. The Bingo book made sure of that, indeed.

Once ,Deeb made contact with the wad of cash, Katsuragi continued to hold his grip. "I'll throw in an extra 3.5k if you forget my face. I'm tryin to build myself up too, just like you.", his eyes narrow at the end of his sentence. "Know what I mean", his toe more strict and firm than before. If the horned man agreed, He'd pay out the rest of the cash and take the rabbit fur.

"Good luck, nomad", he said as he saunters down the path away from, Deebs. Before he would leave the paddy fields however, he would head towards the farmers and explain to them the rules to when it came to any authorities. There positioning made easily clear from his pale eye.

"I wonder if Hik, is still around?", his main reason for being here.
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Pending Exit
TWC: 1141
-8,500 ryo
+1 Rabbit Fur
1125 words(reduced due to mastery) to master this
16 words towards Sensory spec

Deeb felt a sudden tension creeping up inside him as he tried to comprehend the meaning behind the man's words. Despite his unease, he put on a brave face and confidently affirmed that he understood precisely what the man was trying to convey. As the man bid him farewell, Deeb waved and reciprocated the sentiment. "And unto you, good luck as well." As the enigmatic stranger walked away, the young man couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Deeb's outward appearance was ragged; he could feel the weight of his horns. He realised that people believed him to be approachable and worthy of charity. Upon realisation, he suddenly felt like a pauper. Looking at himself, he began to note his shabby attire; Deeb realised his diet resembled a monk's. Meanwhile, the affluent stranger could quickly secure the fur without a fight. Deeb was getting weaker, and hunting had become more difficult, so he needed to find a civilised place to eat. In search, now with more ryo than he had started, the young man did his best to find a restaurant serving more than rice in this country.

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Pending Exit
+8,500 ryo.
-Rabbit Fur x1.

Word Count: 187
Total Word Count: 1,845

Katsuragi wrote:
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Pending Exit
TWC: 1141
-8,500 ryo
+1 Rabbit Fur
1125 words(reduced due to mastery) to master this
16 words towards Sensory spec

Approved!

Note: Exit approved.