Michibo was lounging on his ship that had a currently empty flag pole. The pirate flag had been pulled and used as a table cloth already. His little form of humor. Still he would be relaxing on a hammock tied from the mast to a random tie off from one side of the railing. The rope taunt and the knots done rather well from trial and error. After all Michibo had some time to set up his new bachelor pad. There was music playing lightly from a record player in the captains cabin but he was hardly listening to it. His ship was docked at an abandoned set of docks well away from the village. A set of docks awkwardly positioned from the village as a hard to defend spot that pirates had raided too often for it to be profitable. Some might have burned it out of spite but instead it was just left abandoned. Since the clan wouldn't support him and being a shinobi at his level had shit pay he had liberated this ship so to speak and luckily for him didn't have to pay any docking fees. By liberated well, he meant the now long since faded blood stains that woman had left behind on the ship and the docks. The bodies though had long since floated off.

Michibo would find himself relaxing in a pair of cargo shorts despite the mild temperature around forty five degrees on a good and clear day. The mist hadn't broken really. It never did but that just meant he couldn't see more than forty meters down the docks or out to sea. Directly above him though the sun had seemed to burn away enough of the mist for him to enjoy some sun on a clear blue sky overhead. Michibo was laying on his back swaying with the water and the ship with a pair of white cargo shorts and a black tank top. Gold framed purple tinted aviators sat over his eyes as he enjoyed getting some sun. Stuck into a wooden desk next to him from several odd angles was a dozen kunai seemingly made of bone. His feet were bare but around his neck was a necklace with a silver cross on it. His grey eyes were closed for the time being as he listened to the soft music while his grey hair spilled around his shoulders like always. He was a punk and a lowlife but hell, what else was an orphan to do? He had a sizeable ship so at least he had a cool place.

Damn if he wasn't bored though. He was taking a break from training to let his muscles relax a little. They still ached from his last training session and as a fighter he knew that to truly build muscle one needed to let the muscles heal between work outs. So today was his relax day. God did he hate it. He had already read all three of the comics he had purchased the day before and now was rolling his fifth sucker for the day in his mouth. Idly he would roll it around his teeth before he would reach to the side. Glancing to the kunai as he randomly yanked one from the wooden desk he had dragged out of the captains cabin for target practice. He would spin the bone kunai in his fingers a moment before tossing it up into the air. Trying to watch for it despite the sun glaring at him. As he saw it come back down he would catch it just in the knick of time. Feeling the rush of the danger from it as it stopped a mere foot from his chest. Perhaps he was a little moderately insane.

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A humid heat filled the air, yet somehow… some way the mist still closed in on the island of Kirigakure. Blood dripped, little by little, creating the perfect breadcrumbs for those that chased the small figure. His vision began to fade. The child held a reddened white cloth, pressed below his right collar bone. Just above his heart tore a three inch deep cut from a raiton jutsu that had just nearly missed its intended target. Although he could feel neither pain nor pleasure, his body told him everything… and right now his body told him he was close to limit. He turned his head, looking behind with the corner of his eyes whilst his legs brought him ever forward into the unknown. Though the mist obscured his already fading vision, he could tell that a clear trail had been left behind. It was about time. He had done enough. The child summoned the last of his chakra, spreading the energy evenly over his small frame. Little by little his skin faded, replaced. Bones emerged from his body, taking place of what was once flesh. The wound that had once bled profusely closed up immediately, stop the ever growing trail of blood. Although it didn’t prevent the fact that he was still internally bleeding, it would do for now. The child dropped the cloth he had used to aid the blood, throwing it forward along with most of his disposable belongings. Suddenly turned right, away from the blood and belonging he had torn of off his person. From there he'd make his escape, using a fake trail to mask his true location. He jumped up to the tree lines, removing any evidence of footsteps on the ground. Jumping tree to tree he moved forward. Each tree branch bringing him closer to whatever fate awaited him. At best he would stumble upon a small village, at worst… He shook his head, removing the thought of such outcomes. The mist dulled his vision, yet it also gave him an escape; had he been in Konohagakure he would have already been long gone.

Suddenly his body stopped. All his momentum came to a halt. He couldn’t move, not even a finger. He screamed, yet even his vocal chords were paralyzed. He summoned chakra once more, attempting to release himself from any genjutsu that might have affected him, but it was all for naught. Again he mustered chakra, this time attempting to form a tail, yet nothing. This was it. It was over. He cursed in his mind and closed his eyes, yet not even that he could achieve. His eyes stayed wide open, as if being forced by an invisible figure. A woman, drenched in blood that was clearly not hers slowly entered his vision. She wore a mask, and like her it was drenched in blood. The mist seemingly echoed her movements, following wherever she walked. “Find me.” A voice whispered in his mind. “When you’re ready.” It echoed.

He fell, crashing his knees on the tree branch and tumbling into the bed of grass down below the height of the tree. The hardened shell of his bones protected him from the damage, yet the bleeding inside his body only worsened. Blood spilt from his mouth, as he coughed. Miraculously his consciousness had not left him. He looked up, searching for the masked lady, yet she had been gone, and so too did the mist. What once seemed to be the everlasting mist began to fade. He was beginning to lose time, without cover it wouldn't be long before they found him. He ran, using every ounce of his remaining strength. He stumbled once or twice, landing on his face repeatedly, yet he got back up and sprinted sloppily once more. He was a desperate dog clinging to life no matter how hard it tried to shake him off. Eventually he made it out of the forest. A vast blue sea greeted him akin to the one he had crossed in order to reach Kirigakure. He looked around the abandoned docks, looking for any shelter he could find. His vision turned black once more, the weight of his eyelids felt like a thousand pounds. He crashed to the ground, opening his eyes lightly he saw a figure approaching, but his vision faded once more as did his consciousness. Losing all his chakra his skin returned, spilling blood on the wooden docks.

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Michibo had been relaxing for the most part if not for some sense of ease he might have been pushed back into training by sheer boredom alone. Hell he usually would have if not for the day for once being so relaxing. The sun was warm on his skin and he didn't really care about anything right then. Strength would come to him if he survived long enough on its own he was sure. All he was doing by training was speeding up the process. So maybe lounging in the sun wasn't the worst of options to come his way. After all he had went from broke orphan in some shitty assisted housing into a man living rent free on an actual ship. Granted he didn't know jack shit about sailing he had his own place now and it was larger than his apartment had been by far. Was it a little secluded from the village and vulnerable to pirate attack? Sure it was. But after Haka had dealt with that pirate captain and his crew he doubted they would move much in the coming month. The heat being to high on this dock one might say. So he had a month to prepare for that lot. Or so Michibo would hope.

The sound of something collapsing onto the old dock some distance away seemed to echo across the quiet morning. Causing Michibo to sit straight up and reach for a kunai. His eyes looking around from behind the purple tinted lenses. Surely no pirates were that ballsy. Was he wrong from the get go about them? He didn't see anyone launching over the side of the ship so at least he wasn't caught in his hammock with his pants down. Quietly he would roll out of it sliding the kunai between his teeth as he moved low on all fours across the deck. Sliding along before climbing up the stairs to the back and peeking over the railing. His eyes looking around for only a moment before spotting the obvious. Instead of a horde of pirates coming for him some solo character was bleeding out on the docks. Obvious trap? Maybe. But luckily for the kid bleeding out Michibo was rather much a simpleton. Without hesitation he would stand up and run to the captains cabin. Grabbing some cloth and whiskey. With that in tow he would hop over the side of the ship before running to the bleeding kid.

If the kid passed out before Michibo got to him he would wake up inside one of the tiny metal huts along the dock. More sheds with bed rolls than anything. However this one Michibo had picked because it had a furnace in decent shape. Wood picked from the surroundings was burning within it. Keeping the shack almost too warm. Shiro would wake to find his wounds drenched in whiskey and wrapped in cloth sloppily. But the bleeding had stopped. There was a sliced up apple next to him with a cup of caramel with the remaining quarter of the bottle of whiskey. He himself would have been placed on top of an old bedroll. The only light in the room from the fire in the furnace. No windows. However the metal door would open to show the fading light of day rather suddenly as Michibo stepped through. Still wearing his aviators and wearing his white cargo pants with a couple blood stains on them and a black tank top. Now though he was also wearing shinobi sandals. In his belt loops on either hips were bone kunai while in his hand was a bag with some basic medical supplies.

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