1 Recovery [Akarui | No Kill] Mon Sep 28, 2015 11:53 pm
Daraku
D-rank
By the time morning came around, Daraku had gotten maybe 2 or 3 hours of sleep and his eyes wrenched open against his will, greeting the daylight that came through his windowpane with scorn. He turned away from the harsh sun and faced the wall, but couldn't will his eyes shut again, and the comfort of his bed was no longer comfort at all. He had lost the fleeting sleep, he realized, and there was no point in trying to rest because he would just sit there awake for a few more hours. He lay there for another 10 minutes or so and then forced himself to sit up straight. He leaned against the headboard and brushed a hand through his hair, thick and unruly as it usually was. The room around him, despite being home, felt unfamiliar since he hadn't slept in it for so long. He was glad to be back, though, and as he tossed his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet, he went to the window and opened it wide, letting the desert breeze fill the room. It was hot, so hot it was unbearable to the average man but those who were from Sunagakure were used to it and some, like Daraku, even grew to love it. The heat, the sun, the sands.
The halls were bustling down below. Daraku could hear his fellow clansmen preparing for breakfast but he knew that he wouldn't be joining them this time around. Too lazy to put on clothes just yet, he put on a golden silk robe and tied it loosely over him as some gesture of courtesy so that the rest of them wouldn't have to see him walking around in his underwear. He descended the stairs and passed by the dining hall. The Ishido were once a hateful, disparate bunch and now Daraku watched them eat together as a happy family. The fact that his efforts had changed his clan from a motley crew back into a powerhouse brought a smile to his face. He turned toward the kitchen and swiped a few kushikatsu from the chef's counter.
After he'd finished eating the skewers and taken a shower, the ninja threw on a white sleeveless shirt with a hood and black shorts along with his usual sandals. He strapped Nisebi to his back and headed out, saying an upbeat goodbye to everyone as he left through the main doors. I think I'm gonna go to the hospital today, Daraku thought to himself. Maybe volunteering would be good for me, just like back in Kiri. Probably even better since I'm in my own village now. The walk to the hospital was rather far from the Ishido Castle, which was out near the slums, but he took his time and arrived at the hospital around half past noon. A few nurses walked by when he came in and once he finished checking out their asses, he approached man at the front desk. "Hi, my name is Ishido, Daraku. I'm actually a—"
"A Sannin, yes. Everyone in Sunagakure knows you. We here at the hospital also know that you killed a woman and stole her heart in this very building." Daraku just blinked and stared back awkwardly. He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, but that was already more than a few years ago...haha...I'm really sorry about that." The man rolled his eyes, treating Daraku with just enough disgust to make Daraku feel a little attacked. "It's alright. Lady Suzume insisted that you be pardoned of all your past crimes when you returned to Sunagakure and did your 'time'. Now, why are you here?" Daraku explained that he wanted to volunteer, and the man said that he may as well just work there as a full-time medical ninja. He handed Daraku an application form and then went back to doing some kind of paperwork of his own.
So, Daraku took a pen, moved over to the small waiting room area, and sat down in the cushioned seat. He used his leg to pull the glass table toward him so that he could write on it. The application was more than a few pages long, and he despised boring and monotonous tasks, but he figured it was necessary if he wanted to do any work at the hospital. His hand scribbled away, filling every field one by one in his chicken-scratch handwriting...
The halls were bustling down below. Daraku could hear his fellow clansmen preparing for breakfast but he knew that he wouldn't be joining them this time around. Too lazy to put on clothes just yet, he put on a golden silk robe and tied it loosely over him as some gesture of courtesy so that the rest of them wouldn't have to see him walking around in his underwear. He descended the stairs and passed by the dining hall. The Ishido were once a hateful, disparate bunch and now Daraku watched them eat together as a happy family. The fact that his efforts had changed his clan from a motley crew back into a powerhouse brought a smile to his face. He turned toward the kitchen and swiped a few kushikatsu from the chef's counter.
After he'd finished eating the skewers and taken a shower, the ninja threw on a white sleeveless shirt with a hood and black shorts along with his usual sandals. He strapped Nisebi to his back and headed out, saying an upbeat goodbye to everyone as he left through the main doors. I think I'm gonna go to the hospital today, Daraku thought to himself. Maybe volunteering would be good for me, just like back in Kiri. Probably even better since I'm in my own village now. The walk to the hospital was rather far from the Ishido Castle, which was out near the slums, but he took his time and arrived at the hospital around half past noon. A few nurses walked by when he came in and once he finished checking out their asses, he approached man at the front desk. "Hi, my name is Ishido, Daraku. I'm actually a—"
"A Sannin, yes. Everyone in Sunagakure knows you. We here at the hospital also know that you killed a woman and stole her heart in this very building." Daraku just blinked and stared back awkwardly. He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, but that was already more than a few years ago...haha...I'm really sorry about that." The man rolled his eyes, treating Daraku with just enough disgust to make Daraku feel a little attacked. "It's alright. Lady Suzume insisted that you be pardoned of all your past crimes when you returned to Sunagakure and did your 'time'. Now, why are you here?" Daraku explained that he wanted to volunteer, and the man said that he may as well just work there as a full-time medical ninja. He handed Daraku an application form and then went back to doing some kind of paperwork of his own.
So, Daraku took a pen, moved over to the small waiting room area, and sat down in the cushioned seat. He used his leg to pull the glass table toward him so that he could write on it. The application was more than a few pages long, and he despised boring and monotonous tasks, but he figured it was necessary if he wanted to do any work at the hospital. His hand scribbled away, filling every field one by one in his chicken-scratch handwriting...
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