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A Spider Paints the Walls (Private/D-Rank Mission/No-Kill) Sat Jul 04, 2015 11:22 pm
Zinan
D-rank
Painting? Are you serious? Zinan fumed, silently, to himself. He couldn't even believe that there was a job to paint the administration building, much less, he couldn't believe that it was a job that was assigned to ninja. He could understand if it was assigned to Academy students who were acting up in class. But to have a ninja, even a genin, paint the building? It seemed like an insult. And Zinan didn't understand why his sensei had assigned the job to him. Sure, he was going to get some payment for it, but why him? Was his sensei just trying to make a punny joke off of his clan's affiliation and affinity with the wall-crawling spiders? Or was it something else? Had he done something wrong? Zinan snarled. His sensei couldn't even have delivered the news of the mission in person. No, his sensei deemed it so unworthy that they had a messenger deliver the mission to Zinan.
He quietly packed up a few belongings that he'd need: lunch, a couple of bandanas, some water. He also packed a few things that he didn't need, but would never go without: a kunai and some shurikens. It was never good for a ninja to go without some way to defend themselves. No one knew when danger would rear its ungodly and ugly head, even if it were midday in the middle of Konohagakure. After he had packed, Zinan headed for the door. He was at home, when the messenger from his sensei had arrived, which was located just a little ways into the woods from the village. His clan had lived there for centuries, as it was closer to the home of their beloved spiders.
Zinan left his family's estate and leapt into a tree. He glanced over his shoulder and scowled. His brother and father were in the training yard, working with the spiders that they were so fond of. Those spiders had bonded to his brother, when they were children, and had all but ignored Zinan. It had left him the disfavored son. While his older brother spent most of the time working with the spiders and learning summoning jutsu from their father, Zinan had spent the majority of his childhood trying to make up some of the difference by learning how to better utilize their clan's kekkei genkai: Webs of Woven Glass. With darkened eyes, Zinan turned from the estate. Silently, he leapt from tree to tree and made his way to the village.
He stopped just before the walls of the village and dropped down to the road. It was dusty when Zinan landed and he coughed. As he entered through the gate, he waved the dust away. The shinobi could see the administration building from the entrance to the village. It rose above the other buildings and above the hubbub of the markets. Dutifully, Zinan wove his way through the crowds and made his way into the administration building. Inside, as if they were expecting him, there were two cans of paint and paint roller on a pole. With a scowl, Zinan picked up the pole and looped each end under the handles of the cans of paint. He hoisted the load onto his shoulder and sidled his way out the door. Once outside, Zinan set the paint cans down and pried open one of the cans with his kunai. I knew that I would have needed this, he mused to himself, as he tried to force his sour mood to improve. He wiped the knife off on one of the bandanas that he brought from home, before putting back into his weapons pouch. He latched the open, full can of paint to his belt. He would take it with him when he painted, and by having it on his belt ensured that he couldn't drop it or leave it behind.
After, he picked up the paint roller and dipped it into the open can, before he turned and started to walk up the wall. He was using a technique that he started to learn while he was in the academy: the "Supernatural Walking Practice." This technique utilized the flow of chakra in his body, which he focused in his feet, to allow him to cling to, normally, unclimbable surfaces. It was a useful technique for all ninja to learn. Zinan thought that it was initially developed to allow ninja to climb buildings, like if they were invading a village and had to get through a window that was an upper level of a building. However, most ninja, or at least genin, were forced to use it doing stupid things, like paint the side of a buiding.
Zinan placed the roller on the wall, at his feet and began to spread the paint on the wall. He couldn't tell too much of a difference between the original coat and the new one, save for the fact that the coat he was placing was shinier, and that was just due to the fact that it was still wet. Slowly, he made his way around the building as he spread the paint evenly across its exterior walls. He had to stop to change which paint can he was using as the original one was emptied.
The genin stopped another time, around noon, as his stomach protested against the emptiness it felt. Zinan found a yet unpainted spot on the wall and sat down. He had tied the paint roller off and let it dangle, as well as the paint can, from his belt. It must have been and interesting sight to see this ninja sitting, cross-legged, on the side of the administration building, as he, and the building, was coating in fresh, wet paint. He pulled out a couple of onigiri, or rice balls, and took a bite. He moaned with joy as the rice ball was stuffed. The bite, though unimpeded initially by the soft, sticky, white rice, ended in a savory crunch. Inside of the rice ball was a breaded piece of shrimp tempura. Excited about the prospect of a delicious meal at lunchtime, Zinan devoured the rest of the rice ball and turned to the other onigiri. With a flurry of chewing and grunts of sated hunger, the shinobi scarfed down the rice coated, fried shrimp.
After drinking some water, Zinan stood back to his feet and surveyed the wall. He, as usual for the day, scowled at the wall. He had only a few square meters left to paint before he could be done. However, he spotted something that startled him. He leaned closer to a drying patch of paint and yelped. Rice! "No, no, no, no...." Zinan muttered in a panicked fashion. He dropped to all fours on the wall, his hands and knees made a splatting sound they came in contact with the paint. He couldn't believe it. He intended to be so careful with his food, for this very reason, actually. If anything were to get into the paint before it dried, it would leave an awful, spotted look on the side. Surely, that would be cause for him to be put on other, more menial duties. After all, if a ninja couldn't be trusted to paint the walls of a building, they couldn't be trusted with confidential information either. That's when it dawned on him; the reason why he was assigned this mission was because his sensei was testing if Zinan could be trusted.
Zinan edged his way down the wall to the patch of rapidly drying paint where the rice desperately clung. His head was facing the ground at this point and the blood rushed to his head. Zinan did not care, however, as he was focused on one thing: the rice. He reached back to his weapons pouch and pulled out, once again, his kunai knife. Slowly and carefully, Zinan pried the individual pieces of rice from the wall and flung them to the ground below. His tongue stuck out of his lips, just a little bit, as he concentrated as hard as he could. He didn't want to drag his blade through the paint, for that would leave large swaths of streaking marks on the side of the building. And that would just not do. He made his way from piece to piece of the invading rice and launched them all to their ends on the ground below. He counted them as he worked them out of the sticky, shiny coat of paint. Thirteen. Thirteen different, individual pieces of soft, sticky rice had invaded the perfect, shiny coat of paint that Zinan had spread. He looked down at the ground with a snarl; at least some lucky bird will have a little meal later on today. Zinan hoped that the paint on the rice would make that bird ill, however.
With a growl, the genin got back to work and soon finished. He had made sure to go over the section of the wall that he had pried the rice out of, twice. He had noticed, while he worked, that the rice had left that bit of wall spotted with pockmarked scars. That sort of look would not be accepted on any building, but least of all the administration building. He dropped to the ground and gathered up the materials he had used and entered into the building. After stowing away the paint and roller, he made his way up to the Hokage's office to make a report. After this report, I'm going to find my sensei and hit him. This was torture...
WC: 1635/600
Strength: E-0 > E-1 > E-2 = 225 Words
Speed: E-0 > E-1 > E-2 > E-3 > D-0 = 450 Words
Reaction Time: E-0 > E-1 = 75 Words
Endurance: E-0 > E-1 > E-2 = 225 Words
Total Words Used: 975 Words
He quietly packed up a few belongings that he'd need: lunch, a couple of bandanas, some water. He also packed a few things that he didn't need, but would never go without: a kunai and some shurikens. It was never good for a ninja to go without some way to defend themselves. No one knew when danger would rear its ungodly and ugly head, even if it were midday in the middle of Konohagakure. After he had packed, Zinan headed for the door. He was at home, when the messenger from his sensei had arrived, which was located just a little ways into the woods from the village. His clan had lived there for centuries, as it was closer to the home of their beloved spiders.
Zinan left his family's estate and leapt into a tree. He glanced over his shoulder and scowled. His brother and father were in the training yard, working with the spiders that they were so fond of. Those spiders had bonded to his brother, when they were children, and had all but ignored Zinan. It had left him the disfavored son. While his older brother spent most of the time working with the spiders and learning summoning jutsu from their father, Zinan had spent the majority of his childhood trying to make up some of the difference by learning how to better utilize their clan's kekkei genkai: Webs of Woven Glass. With darkened eyes, Zinan turned from the estate. Silently, he leapt from tree to tree and made his way to the village.
He stopped just before the walls of the village and dropped down to the road. It was dusty when Zinan landed and he coughed. As he entered through the gate, he waved the dust away. The shinobi could see the administration building from the entrance to the village. It rose above the other buildings and above the hubbub of the markets. Dutifully, Zinan wove his way through the crowds and made his way into the administration building. Inside, as if they were expecting him, there were two cans of paint and paint roller on a pole. With a scowl, Zinan picked up the pole and looped each end under the handles of the cans of paint. He hoisted the load onto his shoulder and sidled his way out the door. Once outside, Zinan set the paint cans down and pried open one of the cans with his kunai. I knew that I would have needed this, he mused to himself, as he tried to force his sour mood to improve. He wiped the knife off on one of the bandanas that he brought from home, before putting back into his weapons pouch. He latched the open, full can of paint to his belt. He would take it with him when he painted, and by having it on his belt ensured that he couldn't drop it or leave it behind.
After, he picked up the paint roller and dipped it into the open can, before he turned and started to walk up the wall. He was using a technique that he started to learn while he was in the academy: the "Supernatural Walking Practice." This technique utilized the flow of chakra in his body, which he focused in his feet, to allow him to cling to, normally, unclimbable surfaces. It was a useful technique for all ninja to learn. Zinan thought that it was initially developed to allow ninja to climb buildings, like if they were invading a village and had to get through a window that was an upper level of a building. However, most ninja, or at least genin, were forced to use it doing stupid things, like paint the side of a buiding.
Zinan placed the roller on the wall, at his feet and began to spread the paint on the wall. He couldn't tell too much of a difference between the original coat and the new one, save for the fact that the coat he was placing was shinier, and that was just due to the fact that it was still wet. Slowly, he made his way around the building as he spread the paint evenly across its exterior walls. He had to stop to change which paint can he was using as the original one was emptied.
The genin stopped another time, around noon, as his stomach protested against the emptiness it felt. Zinan found a yet unpainted spot on the wall and sat down. He had tied the paint roller off and let it dangle, as well as the paint can, from his belt. It must have been and interesting sight to see this ninja sitting, cross-legged, on the side of the administration building, as he, and the building, was coating in fresh, wet paint. He pulled out a couple of onigiri, or rice balls, and took a bite. He moaned with joy as the rice ball was stuffed. The bite, though unimpeded initially by the soft, sticky, white rice, ended in a savory crunch. Inside of the rice ball was a breaded piece of shrimp tempura. Excited about the prospect of a delicious meal at lunchtime, Zinan devoured the rest of the rice ball and turned to the other onigiri. With a flurry of chewing and grunts of sated hunger, the shinobi scarfed down the rice coated, fried shrimp.
After drinking some water, Zinan stood back to his feet and surveyed the wall. He, as usual for the day, scowled at the wall. He had only a few square meters left to paint before he could be done. However, he spotted something that startled him. He leaned closer to a drying patch of paint and yelped. Rice! "No, no, no, no...." Zinan muttered in a panicked fashion. He dropped to all fours on the wall, his hands and knees made a splatting sound they came in contact with the paint. He couldn't believe it. He intended to be so careful with his food, for this very reason, actually. If anything were to get into the paint before it dried, it would leave an awful, spotted look on the side. Surely, that would be cause for him to be put on other, more menial duties. After all, if a ninja couldn't be trusted to paint the walls of a building, they couldn't be trusted with confidential information either. That's when it dawned on him; the reason why he was assigned this mission was because his sensei was testing if Zinan could be trusted.
Zinan edged his way down the wall to the patch of rapidly drying paint where the rice desperately clung. His head was facing the ground at this point and the blood rushed to his head. Zinan did not care, however, as he was focused on one thing: the rice. He reached back to his weapons pouch and pulled out, once again, his kunai knife. Slowly and carefully, Zinan pried the individual pieces of rice from the wall and flung them to the ground below. His tongue stuck out of his lips, just a little bit, as he concentrated as hard as he could. He didn't want to drag his blade through the paint, for that would leave large swaths of streaking marks on the side of the building. And that would just not do. He made his way from piece to piece of the invading rice and launched them all to their ends on the ground below. He counted them as he worked them out of the sticky, shiny coat of paint. Thirteen. Thirteen different, individual pieces of soft, sticky rice had invaded the perfect, shiny coat of paint that Zinan had spread. He looked down at the ground with a snarl; at least some lucky bird will have a little meal later on today. Zinan hoped that the paint on the rice would make that bird ill, however.
With a growl, the genin got back to work and soon finished. He had made sure to go over the section of the wall that he had pried the rice out of, twice. He had noticed, while he worked, that the rice had left that bit of wall spotted with pockmarked scars. That sort of look would not be accepted on any building, but least of all the administration building. He dropped to the ground and gathered up the materials he had used and entered into the building. After stowing away the paint and roller, he made his way up to the Hokage's office to make a report. After this report, I'm going to find my sensei and hit him. This was torture...
=Exit Thread=
WC: 1635/600
Strength: E-0 > E-1 > E-2 = 225 Words
Speed: E-0 > E-1 > E-2 > E-3 > D-0 = 450 Words
Reaction Time: E-0 > E-1 = 75 Words
Endurance: E-0 > E-1 > E-2 = 225 Words
Total Words Used: 975 Words
Hokage: 
Kazekage: 
Raikage: 
Tsuchikage: 
Mizukage: 