Boris sat in the back end up the pub. His head resting against the cold table as he stared at the half empty bottle of jack in front of his face. His dark hair hung dirty and in strands over his face. It needed a trim but he didn't care. His beard was still wet from the last drink. His dark fur shirt was spotted in dirt and alcohol while his torn jeans looked much the same. His boots were worn out as well but still intact. Patches of leather marked where he had reinforced it with the hides of the animals he hunted for food and trade. After all he managed to get his bottle today at the pub by hunting Rabbit for them. They didn't really care after all. If all it cost them was his own table and a bottle of jack a night they would let him drown himself for fresh supplies. Still his charcoal black eyes took in the drop of moisture running down the side of the bottle. Thoughts of rain over the smoking remains of a farm flashed in his mind and he groaned before rolling his head so his forehead was resting on the table. He just wanted peace of mind. His family was gone...why must they haunt him still? How could the demand vengeance when their killer...the Uchiha had been killed already...that was why he had come to this village...or had he come to die? It was too early to tell.

Still he stirred in a low growl as he heard footsteps approaching. His nose wrinkling at the smell of mens perfume. He knew it couldn't be good that someone was approaching him. Another individual looking to hire him to end a life? Or perhaps someone looking to prove something...it didn't matter. They were an obstacle towards him drinking himself stupid. Still his clawed fingers reached out blindly for the bottle so he could drink the patience to deal with them only to grasp at nothing. His claws tapped on the table as he heard his bottle being swigged from. He rolled his head to the side again. They were talking. He didn't care to listen to them for what exactly they said. Something about him being ugly and such. No big deal there. Still his dark eyes just resided on that bottle they had taken from him. Another mans lips had touched her....another man had taken her from him. They liked to do that. Take what he held dear. Still his thoughts came around as one of them kicked his chair. He could hear them now as he looked to the one that had struck out with his foot.

"Hey you deaf? He said get out of our table...gonna have to sanitize the thing after you been here. Or burn it eh boys?"

So they wanted the table too. They wanted to mess with the drunk in the corner for fun. He knew how this played out. How it always played out but he would play the game anyways. He could only smell blood on one of them. The one holding his bottle had something in his coat. It still smelled of blood. So that was likely the bad ass of the group. He would be the only threat. So he would do this knowing that. Slowly Boris rose to his feet. His full height coming onto play as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his back. A couple of the guys backed up with Wary eyes but Boris ignored them. Instead his attention was on the one with his bottle. He crossed the distance in two strides to tower over the kid. They looked at each other a moment. Each of them looking for weakness and finding none until finally the kid spit and shoved the bottle into Boris's gut. They took their seat and Boris caught the bottle. Without a word he drank from it and walked out the door. Leaving before the establishment could take note of him taking a bottle outside. He knew not to break bones were he drank. Still, had the kid moved against him he would of broken him. His breath marked how cold it was outside as he wandered for a couple of blocks until finally he found his way to a spot next to a dumpster. There he stopped and sat down with a plop. Leaning his head back against the cold metal before taking another swig. Damn he was tired...

763

“Nikko! Nikko! Where are you?” Harue called out worriedly, running down the now-empty streets of Konoha as she cupped her hands once more to call out, “Nikko!”

It had been a normal evening, and she had been taking Nikko out on his daily evening walk, when her dog had suddenly bounded off in one direction rather enthusiastically despite her calls to slow down. She had been ruthlessly dragged for the better part of three blocks or four before she had been forced to relinquish her hold on his leash, falling unceremoniously into the dirt path as her dog bounded off to Amaterasu-knows-where.

Harue had allowed herself a small, resigned smile as she picked herself off the ground, feeling a slight sense of deja vu. It had been awhile since Nikko had darted off on his own, but it wasn’t the first time. He was prone to running off without his owner, sometimes to attack his favourite bakery for their free treats, and other times in a self-declared game of tag with her. Of course, when he knew she wasn’t interested, he would always come bounding back in the next five minutes, and that had been what Harue had been counting on when she had decided not to go after him.

The thing was, he had never come back. She felt her heartbeat accelerate in panic as the sun set with no sight of her black and white husky on the horizon. She began taking off in the direction he had first disappeared in, calling out his name and ignoring the strange looks that the locals judgingly threw her way. It had already been a good hour since she had began her search and she was no closer to finding the dog that had been her only other companion since coming to Konoha.

“Nikko!” she called again, this time hearing a faint bark that sounded suspiciously similar to that of her own rogue canine.

Taking off in what she suspected was the right direction, she continued calling out his name, though his barks seemed wild and periodic, unanswering to her calls. She finally arrived at the shadier parts of the village, one where bars and brothels dotted the landscape like snow in the winter. He was at the entrance to a dark alleyway - not that it was saying much, since the sun had set - barking furiously at a man slumped against the wall next to what she believed was a dumpster, if the flies and the horrid stench were anything to go by. He was downing a bottle of alcohol like it was no one’s business, and doing an excellent job of ignoring her immensely noisy hound.

“Nikko!” she cried in relief as she approached him, kneeling down and patting him in an attempt to calm him down, as she internally dealt with her own racing heartbeat as well. “I’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been?”

With another bark, Nikko brought her attention to the man who had his undivided attention, and she gave him a once over. He looked no different than the other drunkards that she occasionally spotted leaving the premises, with soggy, unkempt hair, decked out in an outfit that could’ve been thrown together from the dumpster beside him. At least this one looked too drunk and busy with his bottle to give her one of those lewd glances she had come to associate with his type.

Nevertheless, she contemplated removing the bottle of alcohol from his loose grasp, if only to get his attention, but then decided against it after realising his sturdy built meant he could easily make quick work of her. Even with Nikko by her side and him in as drunk a state as her eyes led her to believe, she knew she wouldn’t last five seconds against him. Nikko wasn’t the battle type, for one, and against anyone who knew how to hold their own in a fight, which practically summed up all the drunk, buff men in Konoha, of which the person in front of her was a spectacular specimen of, Nikko was as good as a fly; he would be annoying and able to get their attention, but ultimately harmless.

“Mister?” she carefully asked, after having calmed Nikko down sufficiently, who was now affectionately nuzzling her neck. “Hey, Mister, are you okay? Do you need help getting home?”

WC: 741

Boris sat there as he drifted in and out of reality. His own mind a wash with thoughts and memories fighting to break through the dull barrier that was his drunken haze. After all he drank specifically for that reason. Still even drunk he knew what memories were trying to break through. The haunted memory of the smell...how it assaulted him like something burning in the oven. These days he couldn't even remember the scent of his children before they had been burned. The blackened and charred skin of his two kids. Oh those were all he could see when his eyes closed. Try as he might he couldn't remember what they looked like before that. How troubling it was to not even be able to hold onto a good memory of them. Just a flash or two of a summer....a burst of tiny laughter or a crying sound because one of them was afraid of the dark. No real clear memories besides the final ones of them. Even now his hands felt like they were still covered in the soot from holding them close to him. He was angry but the man responsible was dead. He had no purpose in life...just a nightmare waiting to end.

Still all he could feel for now was a thick curtain from his emotions. He wondered if he was breathing....he couldn't will himself to open his eyes and couldn't really feel the cold anymore. He was finally beaten. He could fade into this darkness and never return. He almost sighed in relief in his head. He could hear something in the distance. A loud barking down into the darkness....so there was a hell hound. Hunting for him no doubt. He was likely going there after all. A failure as a father heading for hell. Heaven was reserved for those who deserved it. Still he had more then one reason for wanting hell. That man...he waited for him there. It would be the only way. Face him in hell over and over until he won. If it took an eternity. And yet that haze was fading. It was odd how he was regaining a sensation of feeling again and slowly rising from his slumber. The barking only got louder as slowly his black eyes opened and he let a large dog slide into vision. It was barking at him and his head echoed with it. He slowly pressed the bottle...empty besides the last bit to his head. Oh this was indeed a fresh hell.

however the barking slowly subsided into some whining and excited breathing. He looked up again at the oddity of it and blinked as he stared through his hair. His bear like features stared out as he took in the girl and her dog. For a moment he had a vision. His own daughter...he saw her there in front of him. Her features coming to memory as he stared in disbelief before that illusion faded. In its stead was a girl that was just about the right age...different looking by a fair amount but close enough that he had remembered. His arms fell to his side as she spoke and he leaned his head back looking up at the dark sky. Was he to be haunted for longer by this? Still she spoke and he looked back down to her. Leaning forward so he was slouched against his own knee. He spoke in a thick voice barely more then a growl but quiet in almost silent defeat. "Home huh? That is a long ways away and a long time ago....There is no going back to that. You shouldn't be heading out here in these parts this late kid...it ain't safe even with your companion. There are bad people out in these parts. Trust old man Boris in this."

1417

The man in front of her, wet and slick with grime and alcohol and no better smelling, shifted minimally, slouching such that he rested the weight of his upper body against his knee, no longer depending on the cold, hard cement wall behind him for support. His voice sounded so broken when he had responded, beaten, lost, as if he had given up on life and was waiting for the spectre of death to take him to Shinigami’s shores.

Harue knew that feeling all too well, and she was not going to let it slide. Shinigami would not welcome this man to her shores. Not just yet.

“Old man Boris?” she repeated after him questioningly, inching herself closer such that she didn’t startle him, so as to kneel right beside him. Nikko began growling again at her approach of the stranger, his attention now returning to the man in front of her who he apparently still deemed a potential threat to his owner. Harue moved her left hand to stroke Nikko affectionately on the neck, eliciting a small whimper from her dog which was loaded with concern, before he finally relented to her wishes and sat down, wagging his tail affectionately for Harue.

His owner, however, had returned her attention to the drunken old man in front of her, whose large, sturdy, muscular build didn’t seem so menacing and intimidating anymore now that his observably broken spirit had surfaced in his pitiful drunken stature. His previous bear-like appearance, menacing as it was, now seemed to be replaced by something much more docile in her eyes.

“Is that your name? Boris?” she asked once again. “My name is Harue. Harue Uzumaki.”

Apprehensively, Harue took a look around the area. The streets were deserted and the only lights to be found came from the bars, pubs, and brothels around her. She could hear muffled sounds of cheering and see shadows in those establishments, some of them of groups of colleagues cheering after a long day’s work, others mostly suggestive. Nikko apparently thought they were playing a game, and also turned to look left and right, before he caught sight of his wagging tail and began chasing it, running around in circles and barking somewhat at never catching it.

Harue turned her head back to the individual in front of her, realising that there was likely no one to take this man home, or that there was no one who even expected him at home. Boris was going to wake up tomorrow, not fresh and in a soft bed with a freshly-prepared meal waiting for him, but with a killer hangover and to a putrid stench that would probably be emanating not only from the dumpster beside them, but also from his lack of a proper shower.

It was probably how he woke up every day, she surmised with wince.

Tentatively, as if still afraid that a single, slight touch would be enough to provoke the man in front of him, to falsely alert his survival instincts and cause his massive hulking figure to turn on her, she placed a single hand on his shoulder in a calming manner. Her concerned face did not betray the fear and anxiety rushing through her, or the racing heartbeat in her chest. She hadn’t approached anyone like this in the three months she was in Konoha. For all she knew she was going to regret her decision, but she couldn’t ignore the pull that tugged at her heart, demanding she address this old man’s problems.

Stupid conscience.

Her other hand reached for his alcohol bottle, curling around it slowly before removing it from his grasp and setting it to one side. It was still in his reach, but Harue knew that if he wanted to, she was hardly going to be able to step in between him and his bottle. Or another one. She then tried to get him to his feet, tugging softly at his upper arm in a vain attempt convince him to move.

“Come on, you need to get out of here,” Harue says. Pssh, that was an understatement. He needed a lot of things, primarily a shower and possibly a proper dinner, but one task at a time.

As if sensing her desires, Nikko trotted up to the man and nuzzled against his chest in a respectable (in Harue’s opinion) attempt to get him to cooperate, whining as he sensed Harue’s mix of anxiety and desperation.

“Come on, let’s go. I’m not leaving you out here,” she states firmly, surprising ever herself with her conviction.

WC: 776 + 741 = 1517

Boris would slump there on his cold seated position. The ground was cold and wet but he hardly noticed. He had left noticing these things behind him. His sense of caring about anything in the world faded to simply living to live. No goals and no eager reaching for any lights of hope shining in the distance. Such things were for the hope filled youth that hadn't learned the harsh realities of the world. Power was the only thing that meant anything and he had none of it. His shaggy hair swayed back and forth across his face as he himself swayed a little from adjusting his drunken balance. Sure if he tried he would have massive potential as a hand to hand combatant but he just didn't see the point. He wasn't fighting for anyone anymore. His vengeance was gone in the blink of an eye and his world was simply surrounded with a lack of purpose. His black eyes shifted to the ground from the girl and her dog as he began to zone out. Once more his own drunken state taking hold of him and threatening to take him into slumber. He didn't really mind falling asleep in the streets. There was nothing anyone would want to steal from him and he doubted anyone would go through the effort of removing him from an alley for any reason. He was simply too big. So it was that he was resigned to his fate. The girl would find her way home and stop playing with the homeless he was sure.

She said something about his name but it swam just outside of his thoughts. Like noise above water when you were submerged. He knew she had said his name but beyond that he was sinking too deep. He felt his body losing energy and any willingness to remain conscious. The surface of the pit he was sinking into crawling over with darkness as he began to slip away. He could feel the cold but that just reminded him of home. For a moment he was suddenly back home. His children lay sleeping in their beds across the room from the fire while he sat in the large rocking chair near it. Slowly it was creaking back and forth as he watched them sleeping. His heart felt warm as did he as he smiled watching them sleep so peacefully. He was such a proud father of those two. Growing stronger and smarter everyday. He suddenly blinked as he felt warm tears on his cheeks. Surprise filling his expression as he reached up and collected a tear off his cheek. He was crying? What reason did he have to cry? All of it came rushing back to him...he had in that instant somehow forgotten what had happened and thought he was home. Now in his mind he was in a black room much like the one from before with the majority of the roof burned away. Two graves freshly covered in the corner where his children had slept. He knelt there in the center of his home and wept. Sadness and loneliness swallowing him.

Just as suddenly however he was pulled from his brief nightmare by a touch on his arm. He looked up in surprise as black eyes looked up at the girl. Wet lines marked his dirty cheeks as his tears had silently came over him as he dreamed so briefly. Now they faded as he looked at her in surprise. Confusion marking his features as he couldn't understand her sympathy for a man letting himself slowly fade. Still she pulled at his arm and spoke of how he needed to get out of the alley. He realized his hand was empty as he suddenly wanted another drink. He had come so close to having one good memory. Just a little more would be nice. Still she had managed to sneak away his bottle at some point. Her dog nudging his broad chest brought his attention back to her as he blinked again. She wanted him up to go somewhere? He remembered the neighborhood and how many fights broke out around there...oh lord she looked so much like his little girl...his broken heart simply wanted to protect her. To watch over her but he was so afraid...so afraid of failing again. Still he could not allow her to be alone with a simple dog to watch over her here....he had to try at least. Slowly he rose his free hand and used it to push himself up off the dumpster. The weight and power of it sent the metal legs screeching about a foot with very little effort. Still he was unsteadily on his feet as he looked down at her before swallowing a burp and looking around...

"Where do we go now? You has... place in mind yes?"

2238

Harue saw Boris place his hand on the dumpster, ignoring the grime and filth that littered its surface, and she backed away a step to give him more space to stand up. She was, however, unprepared when the dumpster was shoved a foot from rest, with a deafening screech accompanying the sight, causing her to wince. When she refocused her vision in front of her, she saw the once docile man in front of her towering over her by well over an entire head, the ferocity in his figure manifested completely in the sheer size of his physique, which stood a good one or two heads taller than she did, and then some.

She briefly registered the sounds of a dog barking - Nikko - provoked by the loud, uncalled for noise. Boris’ tall, overbearing stature, looming over her much smaller frame likely didn’t help placate her overprotective dog, and Harue couldn’t blame him in the least. She, too, was stunned in equal parts awe at his size and terror at the intimidating sight he proved to be. She had to take a step back to drink in his entire appearance without feeling too overwhelmed. He was the personification of a feral beast, something more animal than human, and his canines and claws helped little in dispelling the image.

She heard his question clearly, though it took her a second to realise that he was actually talking to her. That was right. Where would she take him? She realised that she would have to get him cleaned up first, so the nearby hot springs would likely be a good choice. A meal afterward would also help substantially, especially if he had been living off the junk they served in pubs or bars, so perhaps the yakitori place she frequented? She was about to propose her suggestions when she realised that the hot springs were closed by this time in the evening, and the commercial district that housed the yakitori place didn’t exactly seem to be the most welcoming to someone like Boris, drunk as he was.

She inwardly groaned as she realised she would have to take him home. There was a small shower and she could whip up some dinner - she needed some as well, anyway - making it her most reliable option. She wasn’t looking forward to letting Boris into her home, especially not the way he was now. Inebriated as he was, she was afraid that making such a decision would be something she would profoundly regret, though she dared not entertain the thought any further.

Her internal struggle as evident as it may be, it didn’t really take much more than a split second to come to the decision that she had to help Boris regardless. She drank in his appearance, the bulging muscles on his chest and arms speaking volumes about his strength, but his posture, the tone in his voice, the look in his eye… She realised that despite all his brawn, there was weakness as well, hidden fervently behind a mask of indifference and liquor. Standing before her was just a man who was far past his glory days, merely a shell of his former self stumbling along in the dark, not living, not surviving, just being.

No, there was no way she would leave on good conscience. She had been taught better than that.

Boris better not be taking her bed, though.

She bent down again and gently stroked Nikko’s neck, managing to silence his barks and calm him down. Nikko whimpered however, looking up at her and begging with those puppy dog eyes not to foolishly trust the man in front of her, and Harue merely offered her dog a small, reassuring smile before returning her attention to Boris and holding eye contact with the older man, her mind strictly made up.

“We could go to my place,” she suggested.

A small part of her mind wondered if she would have to drag him to her house, and she entertained the thought of grabbing him by his wrist just to show him the way, only to chuck it aside when she realised her small hand wouldn’t be able to clamp around his thick wrist. Instead, she took a few steps in the direction of her house and turned to Boris to ensure he followed.

“It’s right this way,” she began, before turning to look at Nikko.

The dog merely permitted a silent whine to escape his lips, now aware that his owner was going to bring a complete stranger into her house. Harue clapped her hands once, and his ears perked up, and he was soon bounding along towards Harue.

The walk back would not be long. Though she wasn’t all too familiar with the red-light district in this part of Konoha, what she was familiar with was the southwestern section of Konoha, which for the past three months had housed her comfortably, sans the financial burdens. It wouldn’t be too hard to find herself back in a recognisable part of the district, and from there it would be easy to navigate her way through the almost uniform streets of Konoha, all the way to her apartment building on the seventh floor, just one of many in the Sunset District.

Along the way, she would attempt to make idle chatter with Boris, partly to get to know him better, partly also to keep him awake and conscious. Halfway through, however, she would cease conversation, realising that it was better off leaving him to walk off his drunken stupor instead of making frivolous conversation. Once they arrived, she would direct him to the bathroom, hoping to first clean him of repulsive scent and pollutive grime, while also hoping that a cold shower would be more than enough to shock the alcohol of his system.

WC: 980 + 1517 = 2497

There the girl stood. Her dog barking as she remained still. Like a deer frozen in front of the headlights. It was an expression he had grown fairly accustomed to around here. In the frost country his clan had been fairly common place. Farmers more than anything else. Before the fall of the country they had produced very large amounts of crops to be distributed both by the village and for personal purchase. It had been common place to see a large man like him guiding an even larger bear pulling a cart no horse could tug along. The sheer mass and weight of it all and once stopped they tossed it around like sacks of bread. It had been rare for them to ever resort to violence. All of that was before the fall though...before it all burned. He watched her with sadness now as she seemed so timid and afraid. Even her companion yelped and barked in a frenzy just from his presence. Was he really so intimidating? He had always tried to be friendly. Yet the people of this country feared him for his sheer size alone. If they saw his face they ran from him usually or threw things and used the word freak commonly. Oh how they taunted him and yet he had patience. He cared little for his own well being. Yet this girl seemed to.

He watched as after only a second she snapped out of it and comforted her dog. She certainly had some willpower to her. Standing in his shadow had to be somewhat scary for someone so small. Even as the dog whimpered he smiled...though only so much that it was barely visible through the shaggy beard he had. Still he looked to the dog with some concern for the animals presence. If it decided he was a threat to its owner it likely would bite him. He was used to dealing with much larger animals so he wasn't sure he could pry the dog off without hurting it. Still his eyes shifted back to her as she mentioned her place. It actually surprised him that someone would willingly invite him to their home. Did she have some other motive? No; that wasn't likely at all. He could not smell blood on her...and her eyes were too innocent. Along with that there was no reason to lure someone into a trap around those parts. If you were going to get jumped it would happen in the streets. Somehow a good person had made her way here. Just a little his heart was warmed by her acceptance and kindness.

Still she was rather suddenly walking down the street away from him. He blinked and tilted his head before she mentioned it was that way. She really was intending to go through with taking an old man someplace to clean up and eat for the night. He couldn't fathom what motivated her. Still she clapped and her dog bounded too snapping him out of his hesitation. Walking was a little rough at first of course. His depth perception was a little off due to the amount of drink in his system. However once he got going it was fairly easy. Luckily she was also considerably smaller than himself so her pace was easy to follow. Almost slow for him. His black eyes gradually were able to see a little clearer as they made their way further towards the edge of the district. Enough so that when she made small talk he was distracted and merely gave a nod or a grunt in response as a yes or a no. After all his ears and eyes were focused else where. He had noticed them as they began to walk in an alley to their right a block back. Still they eyes the girl with greed but him with uncertainty. The kind of cowards whom preyed on the fragile. A fairly wealthy and innocent looking girl with her non intimidating looking dog were probably a pay day. Yet when they saw Boris looking at them they broke off and stopped following before long. They were not eager to tango with him.

Still as they entered the sunset district Boris was rather happy it was late. Not many were out and about at night and those that were did not watch everything with suspicion. A couple of gazes followed him but only for idle gossip it seemed. Luckily the girls home was nearby. Or rather an apartment complex with seven floors. Still he lumbered up the steps behind her as quietly as possible careful not to step between her and her pet or on her pet for that matter. Still he was once more relieved when they stepped inside the apartment. The lights flicked on and he realized he was a little closer to the ceiling then he liked but he wouldn't have to duck for anything other then the door frames. He hardly had time to look around though before he was being ushered to the shower. Still he would stop in the door way and turn around. His head peeking out from the top of it as a large hand reached out and patted her on the head. His voice like a deep growl as he spoke before closing the door and turning on the water.

"Ms Harue is good person to Boris....Boris get clean now."

3149

Harue and Boris entered her apartment, which, while small by Konoha’s standards, were entirely enormous by her own, considering she had originated from a small, nameless village that could barely compare with Konoha in size and technology, among others.

Her apartment was roughly thirteen metres long by eight metres wide, with the ceiling extending up to slightly beyond four metres metres. Poor Boris nearly found it a hassle to even stand up straight, though in his slightly intoxicated state, she doubted he noticed. When they walked through the door, they would already be within her living room, which occupied most of her apartment, except for her bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen .

Her bedroom was directly to their right, from their location at the doorway. It was three metres long by five metres wide. From a bird’s eye view, it would take up the lower right of her apartment. From her position, she could see her tawny to light brown wardrobe, the colour of polished wood, resting firmly against the wall opposite her bedroom door. Her cupboard was left half open, and all manners of clothing - undergarments included, to her embarrassment - lay strewn both inside and outside the cupboard, some of them lying flat on the floor. On the wall directly opposite it, her bed lay flush against the wall. From her angle, she could still see the half-made bed, with the blue blanket with starry patterns partially on the floor, though considering her bedsheets, pillows, and bolsters were all just slightly different shades of blue, it was difficult to tell. She could also see, just very slightly, her light brown bedside table, the same shade and material as her wardrobe and floor, and the alarm clock that was normally perched atop it now lying undignified on the floor as well, from when she had smacked it this morning in her groggy yet surprised state (so sue her, she was almost late for a C-rank).

Back to the layout of her apartment, occupying the top left of her house, beyond the space that was normally designated her living room, was her kitchen-slash-dining-room. It was five by five, and was only evidently separated from her living room by a narrow, wooden counter, with a nearly-white marble top. On top of it was a white plastic plate that bore the remnants of her chocolate cake from this morning, and the fork she had used lying upside down beside it, just staining the countertop slightly with the dark goldenrod of chocolate cream. The counter itself extended from right angles to the wall, and was attached at one end to a set of kitchen cabinets, all the same shade and material as the wood in her bedroom, save the top, which was of a familiar white marble. On the same wall were the sink, stove, and oven, all three fixed into the kitchen cupboards by design, and on the remaining wall was the slate gray fridge. The marble-tiled floor was of varying patterns of white and black.

The living room itself occupied the remainder of the area, though conventionally she just referred to the bottom left of her apartment where she spent most of her free time lounging around. The the left, against the wall, rested her television, placed above a wooden shelf that also housed the speakers and the receiver. Notably, her television set was a sleek black in colour, while the shelf was a reminiscent shade of light brown. Two vases flanked the television, one on each side. Both vases had the same design, of blue on a white porcelain background depicting a dragon fighting off a traditional spearman, and both housed bright white and orange Jofuku flowers that she had bought from the local Yamanaka Flowers store. Though most Jofuku flowers were said to be dangerous, she had been able to buy the effectively processed ones that promised not to intoxicate victims who inhaled its pollen, which was released upon being uprooted.

A tortilla-coloured nylon one-man sofa was placed at an angle to the television, away from the door, such that anyone sitting on it would easily be able to keep an eye on both the flat screen and the front door if need be. The tawny wooden floor was polished and glossy, though not slipper, and was hidden mostly underneath a dark blue carpet that spanned most the living room. Nikko bounded across the shag texture of the carpet and made himself comfortable on the area just in front of the sofa, curling up and going to sleep.

Harue took off her shoes and left them outside before directing Boris through the living room and the kitchen, before sending him into the bathroom that occupied the remaining corner of the house. Her bathroom was very basic, comprising only of a shower, sink, and a toilet, as well as the bath that had been installed a few weeks ago at the landlord’s insistence after she had gone out of her way for a D-rank of his. The floor was covered with blue ceramic tiles, and layered with a PVC mat to provide the extra friction in the bathroom as an added precaution. White tiles lined the walls for the first four metres from the ground out, before it gave way to the white cement that decorated the walls in the rest of her apartment.

Just before he closed the door, he expressed his gratitude to her in that broken grammar of his. She voiced her response politely and waited for him to close the door and proceed to shower before she shook her head in amusement at the antiques of his language. She then made the quick walk to the countertop and wolfed down whatever remained of her chocolate cake, before throwing the plate and fork into the sink and cleaning the tabletop of whatever cream had been left behind, recently or otherwise.

She opted to wash the dishes in the morning, instead turning to the more urgent task of preparing dinner for both herself and Boris. Oh, and Nikko too, though that problem took care of itself when she opened up a bag of dog food and poured it into Nikko’s dog bowl, which somehow always found its way from the kitchen to the living room. She suspected her dog had something to do with that, and was forced to walk all the way around the counter to fill his dog bowl up. She then retrieved a loaf of bread from the upper kitchen cupboard and the complementary ingredients from both the bottom cupboards and the fridge - mayonnaise and ham and lettuce respective - before throwing together an impromptu dinner of ham sandwiches that she had been more or less living off of for most of her days since coming to Konoha.

She guessed having sandwiches for dinner was not entirely fulfilling, but it was the best thing she could throw together on such short notice, and without going to the grocer’s. It was also likely the most nutritious option she had on hand, which would be what Boris would need after he had drowned himself in Amaterasu knows how much alcohol. Besides, if they were still ravenous after this improvised dinner, they could always go for takeout. When she had a satisfyingly tall stack of ham sandwiches filling up two plates, she precariously balanced both of them in one hand and laid them out on the countertop, and pulled up two stools before sitting on one of them. A simple command later and Nikko fetched the remote from the couch, and she flipped the television channels, bored.

When Boris would exit the shower, she would invite him to sit beside her and share in their meal. The remote would be resting on the countertop just in case Boris himself had a specific channel in mind.

“So, Boris,” she would ask as they ate and listened to the background music of a supposedly famous band at present, not that she could claim to know from firsthand experience; ninja work demanded far too much time to indulge in activities other teenagers did. “Where do you come from? What do you do for a living? Where’s your family? Do you have a place to stay for the night?”

In the event he would respond no, she would then offer, “You can bunk here for the night. I only have one bed, but if you don’t mind, you can use the couch.”

WC: 1423 + 2497 = 3920

Boris had been directed into this tiny room before closing the door behind him. He wasn't sure what to make of all of it. She was a very kind individual to chance helping him like this. Not many would go out of their way to help someone so massive and intimidating. For a moment his black eyes stared at the wall. He wasn't sure if it was real to be honest. He was just so very tired. The air in here felt warm...the room smelled nice once he got passed his own stench. Still his head turned as he looked down at the mirror. It cut off just below his face which was something he was grateful for. He didn't want to see himself at the moment. So much pain changes a person and he wasn't sure who he had become was someone he wanted to see. He did not want to see the dead eyes of a man without hope....and yet perhaps that meant he wasn't to that point just yet. If he wasn't willing to see himself like that then some small part of him still resided within. Some part of the man he once was. At least he could pretend to take some comfort in that sentiment. He felt his lips lift in just the slightest of smiles as he lowered his head resting his palm against his forehead. His curse ate at him but at the same time that little girl out there seemed to ignore it. His sadness wasn't sending her away. She was a brave one.

Still he lowered his hands and began to remove piece of clothing by piece. Some of it clung to him while other parts were firm. He wasn't sure the last time he changed or even took off his clothes. Stains a plenty were dotted across the whole outfit and he knew he shouldn't wear it again until it was washed less the shower be pointless. How far he had fallen in such a time. He stood there holding one particular scrap, a vest made of some partially burned fur. A bear hide. Young when it had been collected yet the burns had been there before it had been made into a vest. Quietly he wrapped his arms around the vest and clutched it to his chest as tight as he could. His last claim to his children. The bear that had died with them. It was as if it was the only thing that proved they existed...that his whole life before this one did. A sharp intake of breath informed him he was sobbing again...had he started crying? He blinked in surprise before quietly folding that particular piece and setting it on the counter. Naked he stood there, scars and burns decorated his body. Quietly he reached over and adjusted the nob before a spray of water slammed against the shower. He turned on the overhead fan as he turned up the heat. Letting it get heated to the point of steam before stepping in a turning the shower head as far up as it would go. Still it barely hit his neck if he stood tall. He placed his hands on the wall and just let it work for a bit. Dirt and grime washing away in dripping trails down his legs all flowing in dirty water down the drain. He watched the brown water until it turned clear before he began to scrub himself down with soap. Making sure to get his face and hair too. His hair was a jumbled mess but soon enough the water cleared that up too. He must of been in there for a considerable amount of time before the water began to lose its heat and he shut it down.

As he stepped out of the shower he found a fairly large towel. Luckily she had big taste so the towel actually could be tied around his waist. Another towel he draped over his shoulders before folding all of his clothes and under arm he carried them out of the bathroom. Opening the door to a gust of cold in comparison. Quietly he set them next to the washing machine just in case she wasn't fine with him doing laundry. Moving to the counter she indicated a bit of food and he bowed gratefully. He sat at the counter careful not to lose his towel and quietly ate his sandwich though in only a couple of bites. He paused at her question as he debated answering her. Slowly he swallowed his food before taking a deep breath. Careful to control his voice now that he was sober enough to control his emotions for the moment.

"Have you ever heard of Shimogakure? It was a village in the frost country. Several years ago I was a farmer there. I lived happily with my son and daughter. Life was good to Boris...We had no real pain in our life. Until the Man named Uchiha Hao came with his army....as a show of power he burned it....the whole country....I was away at the time but when I returned...I traveled through acres of burnt country side...knowing the truth before I even..." He paused and took a deep breath then. "He died before I could avenge them....My only remaining dream is gone...I thank you for the offer of bed and rest....Do you have blanket perhaps?"

4072

Harue had indeed heard of Shimogakure, alternately known as the Village Hidden in the Frost. It was the de facto capital of the Land of Frost, which in itself was a rather chilly country sandwiched between the mountainous regions dotting the Land of Lightning and the relatively flatter lowlands that called the Land of Hot Water their home.

Shimogakure, along with the rest of the Land of Frost, had always been a very interesting topic she and her teachers frequented. Apparently, it had one of the lowest temperatures on average in the Elemental Continents, with snow and hail evident, though in very very small quantities, sometimes throughout the year. Why this was so was still anyone’s conjecture, considering the areas further north in the Land of Lightning or Land of Earth failed to exhibit the same frosty temperatures. The theory that Harue had taken the most to, out of the hundreds that were brought to the table, was that the heat from the geothermal processes in the Land of Hot Water helped a pseudo-monsoon behaviour-

Wait, it was destroyed? Harue’s eyebrows scrunched at this information. That was odd. In her studies, it had always been a country that the textbooks talked highly of, praising its inhabitants for adjusting to the cold and making the economy thrive regardless of the unsuitability for many major economic trades. To learn suddenly that nothing remained of the area, that the famed village hailed as a city-state in its own league was burned to the ground by one man, was… shocking? Surprising? Astonishing? How did one even react to such news, even if they couldn’t directly relate?

It was worse for Boris, she noted, who now regained a lot of his intimidation factor after washing up the grime and sobering up, even if he was decorated by two large white towels (she ignored as best she could his otherwise nudity).

It was much, much worse, in retrospect. To him, there was no academic value to the issue like it did to her, to a degree. To him, it was a living nightmare which, considering the bottle of alcohol he consumed, haunted him every living day of his life. It was a pain that never seemed to fade, one that was determined to continue trapping Boris in its tendrils, playing and toying with him.

It was a pain she was faintly familiar with.

For the umpteenth time that night, Harue felt pity and sorry well up in her chest for the man in front of her. The seventeen-year-old tended to her sandwiches in silence as she heard the rest of his story, not even missing for a second the heavy tone in Boris’ voice. It didn’t just remind her of herself, either. With as many people plagued by pain as there were in this world, her mind flashed to Susumu, the boy who had lost his parents. Boris lay on the other end of that spectrum. Where Susumu had seen his father killed, Boris had lived with the guilt of losing his very flesh and blood.

Maybe she should introduce Boris and Susumu. The latter might have some information that Boris would find satisfying. He was an Uchiha, after all, and he had told her he was fishing around for information. Slim as the chance was, it was still possible that Susumu might’ve heard something about an Uchiha Hao destroying Shimogakure, and could give Boris something to soothe his aggrieved heart.

A small part of her wondered if Boris could go the extra mile by joining both her and Susumu on their journey. Maybe they could find something on their travels that would give Boris more closure over losing his family - Amaterasu knew he needed it. Plus, his intimidating figure would only serve to help them, especially with Susumu hunting down those who wronged his family, and she treading down a similar path. An extra pair of hands, especially ones as big as Boris’, would be more than welcome, in Harue’s opinion.

His distinct lack of clothing that accompanied that thought would need to be remedied, though.

Harue almost shook her head, getting ahead of herself. It was Susumu’s group, not hers, and while he had stated he trusted her enough to spot anyone to join them on their journey, she doubted she was in any way qualified to do so. Analysing herself was already an ordeal in and of itself; finding other people with the same mindset and goals as they had would be beyond her capabilities. Still, though, she reminded herself to notify Susumu about Boris the next time she saw him, and noted as well to get Boris’ living address (if he had one) in the morning so she could contact him again if need be. She was fairly certain, though, that Susumu would be more than pleased at having a seven-foot-tall man - no, read: giant - accompanying them.

Of course, it was a seven-foot-tall giant with a distinct lack of clothing. Damnit!

“Yes, I do have a blanket,” Harue said when he was done. “I’ll go get it for you.”

She patted her hands clean, ensuring the crumbs fell onto the plate that had been, for some time now, devoid of any sandwiches. She then picked it up and dumped it unceremoniously in the sink. She would do the dishes later, prioritising instead to set Boris up for the night. She walked into her bedroom and fished out a huge blanket that she suspected had once doubled as a carpet with its size, before folding it in half twice so it was portable (for her, anyway). She dumped it on the couch where Boris would be spending the night, knowing it would easily cover him and shelter him from the cold.

It would also help him keep some of his decency in case he tended to shift around in his sleep.

“Here’s your blanket,” she said. “You can go to sleep first. You must’ve had a long and tiring day. Don’t worry about the dishes or the laundry. I can handle them just fine.”

On the off chance that he didn’t want to rest immediately, though, she left the television on and went to take care of his laundry, which he had thoughtfully left beside the washing machine. It was still relatively early for her, meaning she wouldn’t be going to sleep any time soon, so she might as well do the man’s (likely very dirty) laundry while consciousness still kept a hold of her.

“Do you have any preferences for your laundry?” she asked as she poured a small amount of detergent into the washing machine. She then pinched what looked to be like a patch of bear skin and held it up for her own inspection, scrunching her face upon seeing the stains evident on it. Fortunately, Boris wouldn’t be able to catch it, with her back facing him. “You know, with your… uhm… bear pelt, I think?”

WC: 1180 + 3920 = 5100

Boris sat there for a time staring down at his clawed hands still resting on the surface of the table. It was odd that he would be so open with someone and even odder that he would be so close to sober. In a way he could feel the power in his body returning to him. As if muscles that hadn't been stretched in some time were coming around to the idea of sobriety. His black gaze calmly lifted to watch the girl as she collected the dishes and unceremoniously dumped them in the sink. Not as fragile as the plates he had grown up with for sure. Still the taste of the sandwich still lingered in his mouth. He may have wolfed it down but he regretted it now. He could tell it would of tasted incredible had he let it linger. He hadn't however and so he would need to let the idea of tasting more go for the time being. His interest were more on the girl at the moment. A special kind of person was needed to take someone as dangerous as himself and bring them into your home alone with you. Trust in human kind perhaps? Than again he had seen kids about that young move faster and do more damage than even he could. Perhaps he was the trusting one here. Still she likely had nothing to gain by attacking him and he was fairly confident she had no intentions to do so. He didn't smell any blood on her after all.

Still she returned with a large blanket and moved passed him to the couch and he blinked. That was right he was staying here as her guest for the night. He needed to work on his manners eventually if he was to even consider returning to society as a sober man. Still he shifted to his feet as the chair creaked under him. Its whine at the weight of the thing finally being relieved of it was notable. He had shared his story and she had listened to him and took care of him. He was certainly grateful and yet confused at the person before him. A kind and gentle soul by all appearances and yet sometimes those who were so kind had their own motives. He couldn't smell any fear or doubt on her nor did he sense any danger. The dog was already slumbering off to the side. Everything was simply so comfortable. Still when she turned he would be standing before her, or rather towering over her. He would reach down with his big hands and clasp her hands in a warm grasp that was meant not to hurt. With that he would bow his head to her and speak once more.

"Boris is greatful for your kindness. We sleep good tonight. Tomorrow you tell us your story yes? Boris will rise early and collect breakfast while it sleeps. Rabbit is not usually good for morning meal but it will do yes?"

Boris smiled quietly and patted her on the head before moving passed her. His right hand reached down and easily gripped the couch lifting it from the floor like a toy so he could shift it. He was still a little new to the bigger city so he didn't see any issues with making a little noise so late at night. He dragged it with a couple of screeching noises before dropping it with a thud at a new angle. This one allowing him to see the door should it open. He may be grateful to her for letting him sleep there but he was still incredibly insecure about being near people. He needed to be in clear view of the entrance in order to sleep comfortably. As long as he could see anyone intruding he would act quickly was his thought process. Still he wrapped the large blanket around himself surprised she had found something that covered him so well before laying down on the couch. His knees bent so his feet didn't go over the end of it. Instead they remained tucked in. Still when she posed the question to him as he layed his head down he paused for a moment. He wasn't sure honestly how one had to clean such things...however in the condition they were in one could hardly care. They were baggy enough as it was so if shrunk a little it wouldn't matter. He spoke up a little before drifting to sleep.

"It should wash fine in cold water me thinks...thank you."

Exit thread

772/4844

Speed
E-1 to D-3
1850/1850
150 ryo

2994

Reaction time
D-2 to D-3
450/450
75 ryo

2544

Perception
E-3 to D-3
1475/1475
150 ryo

1069 remaining

Deep claw C rank taijutsu 1000/1000

69 remaining

Cold water.

That had been Boris’ request, and it had been an hour and a half since Harue had thrown Boris’ bear pelt into the washing machine and adjusted the temperature dial appropriately. She was relatively nervous about washing the bear pelt, being inexperienced in handling unconventional pieces of clothing, and so had done it separate from all his other laundry, which ate up even more of her time. Within those several hours that the laundering had taken, she had managed to tick off most of her chores from her to-do list for the week, as well as some spillovers from the previous one, with only the sound of Boris’ light breathing and Nikko’s bored but familiarly undisruptive whines accompanying her as she worked.

She held the bear pelt up with both her hands, pinching the pelt in a familiar motion to inspect as much of it as possible under the dim lighting. She had switched off most of the ceiling lights so Boris wouldn’t have his sleep disturbed. Fortunately, the lack of vibrant lighting didn’t hinder her chores as much as she had suspected it to, which she attributed to having toiled through her chores and responsibilities in the relative darkness of Takara’s village at night.

Hmm… The bear pelt looked fine, alright, okay… Then again, her definition of ‘okay’ in this scenario simply warranted that the piece of article remain intact. A very vague requirement to be sure, but she wasn’t particularly familiar with bear pelts, much less handling them. The stench and grime that had stubbornly remained after she had run it through with cold water underneath the bathroom tap were not all but gone, and the only stains on the bear pelt that remained from before were the faint traces of blood that were apparently too difficult to remove with a simple wash. Doubting that a second round would do away with the stains anymore than the first would, and allowing herself satisfaction at the absence of the foul stench she had associated with said pelt (and the rest of his apparel), she placed the bear pelt on top of the rest of Boris’ clothing in a plastic laundry basket by the machine.

She took one last look around her small apartment, relishing as she normally did every week with her handiwork. The mess that had piled up for a week or two had been completely taken care of. As her cerulean blue eyes swept past her kitchen and into the living room, they fell onto Boris, who was sleeping silently on the couch, his bulky, muscular left hand draping off one side, while the rest of his body remained covered by the sizable blanket. She couldn’t see his expression, with him technically facing away from her, but she was confident he would be sporting relaxation as he slept off his exhaustion.

Harue let out a breath as the strain of her household chores caught up to her as they always did. It was nigh inaudible, but it caught the attention of her dog, who up till now had been feigning sleep (yes, she knew) beside the stranger in her house, keeping one eye locked on him and the other on her. His ears shot up and his head rose as he looked at her curiously, noting the first noise escaping her lips ever since the stranger had gone to bed on her couch. Nikko then trotted over to her silently and rubbed his head against her leg, and she responded by squatting and stroking his neck, first the thick, hard coat of fur on his back and then the softer variety beneath his belly.

“He wanted to hear my story, didn’t he, Nikko?” Harue whispered so as to not awake her guest. “I guess I can tell him the usual, right?”

‘The usual’ was the story that Harue had, over time, begun to stick with whenever an outsider had asked her about her private life. She was so familiar with her words that it seemed like she was reading it off of a script, well practiced from hours and hours of recitals in front of the mirror. ‘The usual’ comprised her coming from a village to the southwest of Konoha, keeping the phrase ‘coming from’ as vague as possible so they didn’t ask further if she actually originated from that village or not. Furthermore, she would continue by explaining that she only moved to Konoha to fulfil her wishes, as well as her (foster) father Takara’s wishes, of her becoming a ninja. Konoha had merely been the village that once housed and groomed the fine shinobi that Takara had matured into before he retired to live a life in the countryside.

In case he got curious, she would have enough stories of her six to seven years in Takara’s village to regale him with, and she would claim to be experienced in deflecting questions should they touch on anything before her time in Takara’s village. Anything past that was off limits, not only to other people, but she suspected also to herself. Anything before she was ten, before her father had been lost at sea, before she had to watch her mother slain in cold blood, would be kept to herself. The black that stained her otherwise white and gray life, the bitter event that wretched her sweet and sour childhood with her biological family, all of it would not leave her lips.

Nikko only responded to her with a lick of her cheek.

She supposed she might have to include the story of the slavers. That was one patch of black in her life that she wouldn’t be able to hide, considering those slaves had attacked Takara’s village while she was thirteen, and so made up a fair bit of the village’s otherwise bland history. Seven children - orphans - got kidnapped, six of whom never saw their loved ones again, while the last one had to grow up never overcoming his trauma and always looking over his shoulder for nonexistent slavers trying to sell either him or his organs. As deep of a scar it left on her and her impression of the world, the Land of Earth and Iwa in particular, Boris had been very forthcoming in his own past; considering how much she was already keeping from him regarding the first decade of her life, omitting this wouldn’t make their exchange at all fair.

Besides, it wouldn’t really matter too much if Boris knew. She would be leaving Konoha, soon, so the chances of her meeting him again were decidedly low, however non-zero it may have been. Even if she hadn’t been packing her bags, she doubted she’d meet Boris again so soon anyway; Konoha was a big place and she didn’t exactly have any connections with him other than inviting him home one night to keep him off the streets.

Guilt licked at her again at the prospect of willingly looking away from the people who cared for her in this humble yet thriving village. While Nikko technically didn’t come from this village, he was at the top of the list of people she’d miss terribly after she set foot outside Konoha’s walls. She couldn’t look back though, could she? Many people thirsted for revenge, and they would trade an arm and a leg for the chance to see the faces that haunted their nights and stalked their days finally disfigured and buried under three feet of dirt. The thought of missing out on an opportunity like that which so devilishly presented itself at this time and winding up drinking her days away at her stupidity scared her almost as much as the thought of throwing her life away.

Almost.

Now that the initial wave of pity and empathy were past though, she realised Boris was a reflection of what she could become. The peaceful man sleeping in the chair was the victim of a very tragic incident, and he had mindlessly committed himself to hunting down the man who had tore his family apart. Missing a chance like that had turned him into… this, a wreck of a man who was just a shell of his former self. Missing a chance like hers… would it do the same?

Harue sat against a wall in an alleyway, dressed in a tight-fitting long-sleeved black top and a pair of short jeans that were further ripped in strategic places, both of which were characteristic of the occupation she now used to sustain her vices. This alleyway was now her new home, apart from the brothel where she got most of her income, after she had failed to pay for her apartment’s rent too many times in a row and got kicked out. In one hand she held a bottle of alcohol, while in the other tucked firmly between her index and middle finger was a lighted cigarette. She blew smoke out of her mouth as she leaned her head back against the wall in a blissful and euphoric daze of equal parts booze and nicotine.

Harue shook off the weird series of images that had flashed invasively into her mind, and the view of her dog looking at her with concern etched onto his face. She rested her face against his, and she felt something warm and wet on his fur. Blinking several times but never leaving his contact, she realised that her own tears were staining his face.

Was she… crying?

Why was she crying? She hadn’t cried in so long that it was unfathomable that tears would suddenly burst forth, and she wrestled them down. Nikko’s presence, and the feel of him pressing himself against her, as well as the sound of his whines, only helped her mildly. She grabbed the side of her dog’s face with one hand, pressing his head harder against her cheek and staining him with more of her tears, sobbing quietly into her dog.

Nikko that little bastard. She’d miss him when she had to leave.

Did she have to leave?

He would understand.

Would he understand?

He would understand that she had to get back at the people who’d hurt her. She could never forgive them for tainting her past with so much black.

… Even if she was now doing the same to her future.

[Exit Thread]

WC: 1752 + 5100 = 6852

Training Strength from D-1 to D-3: 850/850 words and 125 ryo
Training Endurance from D-1 to D-3: 850/850 words and 125 ryo

Training Lightning from C to B: 2000/2000 words

Training Ninjutsu from C to B: 2000/2000 words
Training Ninjutsu from B to A: 1152/3000 words

Remaining WC: 6852 - 850 - 850 - 2000 - 2000 - 1152 = 0