Menomu had his olive green hood pulled over his head. The cloak dropped down to the sand dragging ever so gently. As the light breeze blew through, the cloak fluttered a moment to reveal small tanned feet within white shinobi shoes. He stood no taller than five feet. His form was scrawny judging by the ankles. He kept his head down, bobbing and weaving within a small tussle going on within the walkway. It seemed someone had said something wrong. How coarse. They would fight for nothing.

He stopped just in time to avoid a thrown beer bottle from one of the combatants. He was drunk. He seemed to be made that Menomu had even passed him. Menomu frowned as the man ran at him. He stepped off to the right. This large man was slow and drunk. He was sent tumbling down. This action had agitated the man much more than Menomu had hoped.

It was late evening, that meant more troublesome individuals would be out from the shadows soon. Criminals within the village that could actually spell trouble for him. He thought about this as the man wildly, uselessly, swung toward him. Even though he was probably one of the slowest individuals in his current state of training, this drunkard was far too large to hope to be any fast.

He looked up into the man's eyes, his cloak rustled slightly as he made the snake hand sign beneath it. He watched the man's eyes haze just slightly, and with that, he jumped to the right.

He watched as the man swung at his butterfly clone. Two, three, and he let the forth swing hit. The clone burst into butterflies around the man, and with that, he formed the monkey hand sign. The butterflies stopped and suddenly became senbon. The man now looked more like a porcupine with senbon sticking out from him than a drunk man. He grunted in pain and it seemed to be all he would take in his current state. The man dropped unconscious, and the genjutsu faded away.

"With any luck.. He'll forget my face." He huffed slightly under his breath and kept walking. Luckily the other brawlers seemed to have been too busy to notice their scuffle. Hopefully nobody else had caught on.

Jutsu:

Training:

A red headed shinobi in full chuunin attire yawned as he patrolled the streets of Sunagakure no Sato. Sleepily he ran a hand through his messy hair, rubbing his eye with his palm. Pacing down the street the young man wobbled back and forth, the jian strapped to his lower back tilting from side to side indecisively. Although Akarui usually fell asleep long past this hour, his duties were keeping him quite a bit busier lately. The long hours on missions and guard duty were quickly catching up with his less than ideal sleeping habits, and it was fair to say he was not handling it well.

In this state of mind Akarui walked the streets of Sunagakure No Sato's less prosperous districts. His Sunagakure flak jacket, which identified him as a chuunin of the village, hugged his sleeveless hooded white shirt tightly. The old gray suede sneakers Akarui wore left notable tracks in the sand as he made his way past a few of the local bars where brawlers were fighting. It was a fairly ordinary sight: one which Akarui was not all too interested in breaking up at this point. Even if he succeeded they would most likely continue once he left. Worst case scenario, the drunkards would team up on him and he would become the center of the brawl. No, not a good scenario for anyone.

What did catch his eye though was the collapse of a drunkard near the edge of the fighting. From what he could tell, a far shorter figure simply stood to the side while he fought ferociously with the air before suddenly grunting in pain and falling to the ground. Akarui raised his brow, intrigued as the small figure walked away from this seemingly random encounter. It was not all too odd to see hooded figures in the slums, but it certainly was odd to see ones this short getting involved in bar fights while seemingly not getting involved at all.

Akarui avoided the center of the fighting, sticking to the edges of the street as he jogged in pursuit of Menomu. Cautious now, he slipped a hand behind his back, resting it casually on the grip of his jian. While he was not certain he would be entering any sort of combat, it seemed a wise decision to be prepared on the off chance that anything might happen. Truly, there was something about having his weapon with him which gave Akarui a sort of confidence boost. Perhaps it was the long hours training in the compound as a child, or perhaps it was a newly acquired taste after having to defend himself lethally. Either way, having his hand on the weapon was more for himself than anything else.

"Hey!" Akarui called out, slowing his jogging down as he reached roughly eight meters distance from Menomu. "What was that all about back there? Was that drunkard giving you trouble?" Akarui stood as tall as straight as he could now, doing his best to don a serious expression and speak professionally. In this outfit he did represent the village, after all. It was his duty to give that job as much respect as he could. There was also something about randomly approaching strangers who seemed to be involved with something interesting which rubbed Akarui the wrong way, so he almost subconsciously attempted to subvert the awkwardness of that state of affairs by acting as an official rather than representing his individual thoughts.

Should Menomu turn around or stop, Akarui would cease movement at around five meters distance. If he continued to walk Akarui would maintain equal speed at his current distance.

610

He stopped. Someone had seen him. Reckless. He stopped moving, though he didn't turn to the individual. The want to peer into his eyes. The want to bring him into his world. To show him the butterflies. To show him his power as a Shinobi, but he wasn't quite there yet. He wasn't ready yet to show him. He was still a bit tired.

He turned around, though slowly and still had yet to make eye contact with the man, though he did respond. "Forgive me for my cold display.. I had no intentions of truly harming him.. Much." He frowned. That much was visible. Just beneath his nose. He could see the individual before him was taller. Surely he was stronger. Older. At least he seemed to bare alignment to Sunagakure.

He reached up and pulled his hood back. It became clear he was nothing but a child. Thirteen and he looked it. He looked at the man, but peering toward his lower forehead instead of the eyes in order to ignore the impulses to try to utilize his abilities. "Please forgive my use of jutsu on a normal individual.. I would have rather not physically hurt him even in defense. That would have been disgraceful." He bowed, dropping to one knee and lowering his head.

He wasn't sure how high ranking his man was, but no doubt more so than him. It called for a bow regardless. As he bowed, his hand slid to his kunai holster on his left side. He still wasn't sure if this enemy was friend or foe after all. Besides, his instinct was to fight when necessary.

He waited the man's response, sweat practically dripping down the side of his head. He was anxious about the idea of having to fight someone higher than him, but the anxiety was closer to turning into adrenaline. Battle. That was what seemed to drive him recently. Competition between himself and others. He took in a light breath and held extremely still, still waiting for the man's response for what had seemed like forever now.

Word Count:

At first Akarui was somewhat worried that the figure before him did not turn around. If anything it was a bad sign for the red haired shinobi's health that the other individual was so hesitant to make conversation. Brow furrowed, Akarui's fingers rapped against the handle of his jian to steady his nerves. The way Menomu turned around did little to encourage him. There were few things more suspicious to the young shinobi than hooded figures wandering the slums, fighting brawlers by strange and intangible means, and then moving so mysteriously. Akarui had seen his fair share of petty criminals throughout his time as a ninja, but this figure before him did not seem to fit that category. Why would he fight a drunk and then not even take anything off of him?

His thoughts were interrupted, however, as Menomu began to explain himself. No intentions of actually harming him? Akarui felt a drop in his chest. He had not even considered that the man might be hurt or even dead. How could he? He had never seen someone injure or kill another without doing anything at all. Really, he did not even know how the other individual had accomplished such a thing. Nothing came to mind, at all really. As such, he remained silent and tensed. From what Akarui could tell, the hooded figure had frowned, and he frowned in response. It was an unpleasant situation, and one he was not keen on escalation considering he did not know what had just happened to the drunk. As the figure removed his hood, Akarui noticed he was a young boy.


The idea did not do much to ease Akarui's mind, and really put a sour taste in his mouth. On the one hand, it was impressive. He could not see himself doing that at the age this boy appeared to be at. On the other, he was clearly dealing with someone who was not averse to violence or walking through dangerous areas as the sun went down. Akarui's confusion only increased as the boy went down on a knee to bow to him. A slight smirk made its way across his face as he raised an eyebrow, letting out a muffled chuckle. True, bowing was not something he had an aversion to. It was extremely common in the Kōga family in particular, and was used by some of his peers when addressing superior shinobi. However, he rarely saw anyone go down onto a knee to bow. Akarui assumed this boy was either extremely proper or had some ulterior motive for his actions.

The thought left him soon enough, though, and he offered he left hand to help the child up, a wide grin across Akarui's face.

"The name is Akarui Kōga. I meant no offense. I'm sure you were acting in self defense. How about you get up off the ground and you tell me what a kid like you is doing out here for?"

517 + 610 = 1127

He pulled his hood down revealing his olive green eyes and white hair. His earrings bore the symbol of the village. At this point, his headband was fully visible. "Forgive me. I was coming to head home, but I'll be honest... Instead of just heading home, this man swinging at me made me curious about how he'd handle my techniques." His eyes seemed to almost blood shot. It was clear that putting the man in the genjutsu excited him. The idea of the man suffering wasn't it, it was whether or not he could handle the illusion all together. Whether or not the man could see through his power.

This individual in front of him was different. He was stronger. He released his hold on the kunai. There was no need for him to have to fight this man quite yet. He tilted his head and observed the other's characteristics more so. He seemed strong without doubt. "Tell me, are you also a Shinobi?" He watched the man's face carefully. Perhaps he was not a Shinobi, but he firmly believed that this man was one.

"Tell me, perhaps you want to spar? I'm curious as to just how strong you are." He smiled softly. It was clear the boy had no intentions of a death match in the slums, merely a display of skill. He wanted to see just how well he could truly do against a fellow Shinobi. Hopefully he could manage to stay toe to toe with this man, though he someone doubted it. He was older. He had simply been a shinobi quite a bit longer than Menomu, or so he presumed.

Word Count:

Akarui quirked an eyebrow as Menomu told his story. Apparently he was heading home through the slums. That certainly was not the safest of paths to take. Suddenly, another thought hit him and the red haired shinobi felt a drop in his stomach. Perhaps this boy lived in the slums. Perhaps he was even a street orphan. The very idea made Akarui somewhat nauseous so he decided it was in his best interest not to press the issue. The last thing he wanted to do was unintentionally offend this strange child whose skill he could not yet categorize. Even as he  noticed the Sunagakure no Sato headband the white haired boy wore, there was something about the child's personality which made Akarui uneasy. He trusted his superiors enough not to recruit someone without feeling or empathy for their comrades as a shinobi of the village, but he had heard rumors of other villages recruiting serial killers and monsters more animal than human in the past, so it was not an entirely unreasonable thought to cross his mind.

"A shinobi? Yes, of course." Akarui gestured to the flak jacket which hugged his torso, identifying him as a chuunin of the village. Akarui grinned to Menomu as he did so. It was clear that he was proud to be a shinobi of Sunagakure no Sato, but on the inside the red haired shinobi was somewhat suspicious of Menomu's questions. Surely if he were a shinobi of the village he would recognize Akarui's flak jacket. Perhaps he was merely being polite, but the question combined with something about the way the white haired boy carried himself made Akarui all the more suspicious. It did not help that Menomu straight up asked for a spar. "You want to fight? I don't even know your name, little one." Akarui chuckled somewhat uncomfortably, calming himself by resting his hand on the grip of his jian. "Besides, the slums at sundown aren't the best place to get in a controlled spar. Perhaps we can go to the training grounds another time, but I would need to know who I'm fighting first."

The sound of glass breaking broke Akarui's attention for a moment, and he turned his head swiftly to view the cause of the commotion. The bar brawl was still going on a few dozen meters away, and it seemed to be heating up. Akarui sighed, frowning a bit as he observed the scene. He was not much of a fan of unnecessary violence. He had been trained for restrained precision. From his childhood his training had been focused around following orders in the most reasonable way possible. While some joined the shinobi profession in a desperate attempt to satiate their bloodlust like wild wolves, Akarui himself was more like a dog: a loyal subordinate whose reasons for killing were entirely a matter of duty. As one of the brawlers smashed into a wall, a sickening cracking sound tainted the air, and the red haired shinobi turned back to Menomu, a more serious expression on his face. "Tell me, young one. Why did you choose to become a shinobi?"

529 + 1127 = 1659