The Cut Off

While You Read:

As the early morning's sun rose overtop of the peaks of Kumogakure, Zokuro departed from his humble abode on the outskirts of the village. He along with his parents and siblings owned a modest compound of five homes all adjacent to each other within a three acre property. His parents, though formerly trained shinobi, now spent their days as farmers. And his eight siblings assisted them. Zokuro had been the only own to demonstrate signs of being a shinobi, and that glimmer of prowess was ultimately what moved the family into Kumogakure's walls. Zo himself after roughly two decades of serving in Kumogakure's forces rarely had the time to tend the fields, typically only on the weekends and late in the evenings. However as he set out from his own home he'd wave to his siblings who were working their shift.

Departing from the homestead, he'd cross the series of bridges that would lead him from the plateau he lived upon to cross over onto the mountain which bore the village's central infrastructure. It had always been a wonder to Zokuro, that civilization was able to flatten a mountain and build a sophisticated village nation atop of it. And so as he crossed over the bridge, he couldn't help but look down upon the multitude of clouds which resided below him. As a native to the Land of Lightning, he was no stranger to heights and never had a fear of them. But still, he couldn't help but wonder how long the plummet might be should one stumble and fall over the railing. Perhaps it was just human nature to think on some hypotheticals; intrusive thoughts even.

Nevertheless once crossing into the village center, he'd withdraw a cigarette from the left pocket of his white haori which had been draped over his high - collared, midnight black compression shirt. Neither article of clothing bore any embroidery, insignias, or logos. However suspended from his neck and draped over his chest was a silver chain-link necklace equipped with a pendant that bore a sword pointing downward and a lightning bolt intersecting it in zig zag fashion. His pants were loose yet tapered at the ankle, but were as black as his shirt. The contrast between the pants and his shirt came from a sash across his waistline, matching the whiteness of the haori. Finally his boots were also, of course, black.

Retrieving a lighter from his right pocket, he'd ignite its flame to light his cigarette before returning his lighter to its resting place. He'd take the first drag of his cigarette, sharply inhaling air afterwards before concluding this motion with an exhale of cloudy gray smoke. It'd trail behind him, blowing in the slight breeze which Kumogakure's weather offered today. And Zokuro would continue to smoke his cigarette. He'd walk past buildings all too familiar to him: the Warmonger's Arena, Ichigo's Institute of Medicine, and some administrative buildings just past the central courtyard of the mountain. Looking upon the grand staircase in front of him leading up to the Raikage Building, Zokuro would finish his cigarette. He'd ash it one final time, before disposing of its butt in a nearby wastebasket. Then he'd stuff his hands into his haori's pockets and begin to ascend the stairwell. As he did so, his mind unwrapped multiple ways in how the upcoming appointment would go, but truthfully he was just spectating. The current Raikage, Ichigo Sato, was one which Zokuro had never met personally. He had been familiar with his predecessor, Noboru and the few that preceded him as well, but there had never been an opportunity for Zo to meet the current Lord of Lightning. Just how might his demeanor be, in comparison to those before him?

Reaching the peak of the stairway and subsequently the doors leading into the large blue building, Zo would tilt his head to its left to crack his neck before straightening it once more. Now that the crick of his old age was out, he'd grab ahold of the handle to the front door and swing it open in a controlled manner. Proceeding inside, Zokuro was greeted with the familiar face of the Raikage's assistant. He never spoke with her enough to know her name, but he'd offer her a cordial smile as he neared her desk. Once within half a meter of it, his expression would return to its typical stoic state as he'd inform the woman of his purpose.

"Good morning. Zokuro here, for my 9AM appointment with Lord Raikage."

WC = 754