1 Insects buzzing in the hot desert air [Mure/Private/No-Kill/Plot] Fri Jul 17, 2015 3:27 pm
Akarui
D-rank
Akarui yawned as he leaned his creaky wooden chair back on two legs. Even as he rested in the shade of the bar porch, the heat of Kaze no Kuni's desert permeated even the contents of his half empty beer glass. Unfortunately for Akarui, his once cool drink had quickly become the hot bath of a half dozen dead flies. The infestation was not limited to the red head's drink, however; the entire porch seemed to be a playground for flying insects. Gnats, flies, hornets, they all buzzed incessantly as though they were all insisting upon the chuunin's attention. With a groan, Akarui brushed a fly off of his face and flickered his eyes open. It was bad enough that the rowdy noise of workmen enjoying themselves in the bar was keeping him awake, but it seemed as though the entire town was doing everything in its power to keep him from relaxing.
To be fair, though, he was not really in a position to be relaxing. As much as he had looked forward to becoming a chuunin in order to do more important missions and bring honor and pride to his family, the first job assigned to him after his promotion was to travel to this dump of a town and do guard duty. For the moment it seemed like the quietest place in Kaze no Kuni. It almost seemed like a waste to send a trained chuunin out here of all places. What could possibly make this town any worse? The worst thing Akarui had seen happen here over the past day was a bar fight, and even that was broken up by the bouncer before the red haired chuunin could even enter the establishment. With a grumble he leaned his chair back onto four legs, brushing off his new flak jacket. It seemed a sad irony that he was wearing this right now. Supposedly it was a symbol of his status as a Sunagakure shinobi, but this was a piece of equipment meant to save his life in battle. Right now it was just making him hot. Speaking of hot, Akarui leaned down to roll up the legs of his pants. Usually he preferred capris in the hot desert weather, but he had somehow convinced himself that wearing the full attire of a shinobi would be proper for his first assignment as a chuunin. He had even worn a long sleeved shirt which he usually hated, but that too was already rolled up past his elbows, bundled against the forehead protector which strained against his bicep.
Bored as he was, his ears soon perked to the sound of horse hooves clacking against the worn, sand covered sandstone path that ran through the village. Looking up now, Akarui could see a small, rickety wagon drawn by an old, tired mare. A blanket covered the back of the wagon, but he assumed it was merely another shipment of beer for the tavern. Honestly, it seemed like this town existed entirely for the bar which stood at the center of it. It was really only five or six buildings on either side of a path, but none of them were nearly as popular as the source of alcohol. As the wagon came to a stop in front of the porch, the tavern owner shuffled out of the tavern. He was a burly man with a handlebar mustache and a shaved head who likely would have been threatening if his wrinkles did not cause him to appear to be older than sixty. The wagon driver and the bar owner exchanged a few words while the older gentleman examined the goods in the back of the cart. Boring to be sure, but it was the most interesting thing Akarui had seen all day. Finally, as even the business transaction started to get boring, the red head decided to intereject.
"Hey, barkeep. What time is it? I'd like to know when I can head back to Sunagakure No Sato." The bartender looked to Akarui as though he were entirely dumb.
"Just look up son," He said with a thick accent, his attempt at louder speech muffled by his thick mustache. Pointing up at the sky above, he continued. "It's high noon."
713
To be fair, though, he was not really in a position to be relaxing. As much as he had looked forward to becoming a chuunin in order to do more important missions and bring honor and pride to his family, the first job assigned to him after his promotion was to travel to this dump of a town and do guard duty. For the moment it seemed like the quietest place in Kaze no Kuni. It almost seemed like a waste to send a trained chuunin out here of all places. What could possibly make this town any worse? The worst thing Akarui had seen happen here over the past day was a bar fight, and even that was broken up by the bouncer before the red haired chuunin could even enter the establishment. With a grumble he leaned his chair back onto four legs, brushing off his new flak jacket. It seemed a sad irony that he was wearing this right now. Supposedly it was a symbol of his status as a Sunagakure shinobi, but this was a piece of equipment meant to save his life in battle. Right now it was just making him hot. Speaking of hot, Akarui leaned down to roll up the legs of his pants. Usually he preferred capris in the hot desert weather, but he had somehow convinced himself that wearing the full attire of a shinobi would be proper for his first assignment as a chuunin. He had even worn a long sleeved shirt which he usually hated, but that too was already rolled up past his elbows, bundled against the forehead protector which strained against his bicep.
Bored as he was, his ears soon perked to the sound of horse hooves clacking against the worn, sand covered sandstone path that ran through the village. Looking up now, Akarui could see a small, rickety wagon drawn by an old, tired mare. A blanket covered the back of the wagon, but he assumed it was merely another shipment of beer for the tavern. Honestly, it seemed like this town existed entirely for the bar which stood at the center of it. It was really only five or six buildings on either side of a path, but none of them were nearly as popular as the source of alcohol. As the wagon came to a stop in front of the porch, the tavern owner shuffled out of the tavern. He was a burly man with a handlebar mustache and a shaved head who likely would have been threatening if his wrinkles did not cause him to appear to be older than sixty. The wagon driver and the bar owner exchanged a few words while the older gentleman examined the goods in the back of the cart. Boring to be sure, but it was the most interesting thing Akarui had seen all day. Finally, as even the business transaction started to get boring, the red head decided to intereject.
"Hey, barkeep. What time is it? I'd like to know when I can head back to Sunagakure No Sato." The bartender looked to Akarui as though he were entirely dumb.
"Just look up son," He said with a thick accent, his attempt at louder speech muffled by his thick mustache. Pointing up at the sky above, he continued. "It's high noon."
713