1 Trilby's time of reckoning [Training!] Sun Dec 02, 2012 3:13 am
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Sunagakure. What a wonderful place. Trilby never expected to become so fond of it when he first arrived here. He imagined he would feel a vague sense of gratitude and nothing more. However, he had to admit, he started to feel like he was truly... at home. He had snuck his way onto the roof of the kazekage's building, and the view was fantastic. He could see his apartment complex, the home that had been given to him free of charge, allowing him to stay in Sunagakure until he became a genin. The Tsumi training grounds, where he had sweat blood and tears with his former sensei, Tanzo. The sandy arena, where he had met Shibirin and Ryu. His friends, and the closest thing he had to a family. Trilby stared at his left hand. The Ouroboros, the symbol of reincarnation. Of immortality. It still burned through his flesh some nights, reminding him of his past. He still believed he would turn it from the symbol of his incarceration to that of his power and freedom. “Son, this area is restricted, get off the damn roof.” A Jounin appeared behind him, his hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword. Trilby knew it was only a matter of time before someone would notice he was on the roof, but still, seven minutes was a reasonably pathetic response time for the Kazekage's office. “I'm going” Trilby said, leaping from the rooftop into the streets of Sunagakure.
The streets were as crowded as you would expect for mid-day. Children charged back and forth up and down the streets, and people marched shop to shop. It was the sort of activity you would expect. Trilby walked aimlessly from street to street. He had no more books to read that he had clearance to and he had done all his practical training. No missions, no assignments and he couldn't find any of his friends. He had nothing to do but wander. A thick hand reached through the crowd, grabbing Trilby's shoulder. He jumped, turning around to come face to face with a rather unusual shinobi. He was in his 50s at least, and he wore the headband of the leaf. Though they were allies, it was still unusual to see them in Sunagakure. “I didn't expect to see a friendly face around here, let me buy you a drink” The man said gruffly. His smile was warm but it was clear he was no amateur. His entire body was covered in scars, and the Anbu symbol was clearly tattooed on his shoulder. Still, they were allies, and it wasn't like he was valuable enough to be killed in the middle of his own city, so cautiously, he accepted the strange man's offer.
He lead Trilby to a dusty old bar, the smell of smoke and bourbon filled the air. “What will you have” he said, gesturing towards the bar. “Bourbon.” Trilby replied dryly, examining the man in further detail now that they weren't so crowded. He certainly was an interesting individual. He had long, spiky red hair hanging down to his neck, and wore a sleeveless flak jacket. On his side hung two katana, which judging from the wear and tear on the hilts, were old and well loved. The man came over with the drinks and gestured towards an empty table, sitting across from Trilby. “I was surprised to find another Uzumaki here, the sand isn't exactly well known for having our kind.” The man said, drinking a large mouthful of his beer. Trilby paused, glass to his lips. “Uzu what?” He said, confused. He had absolutely no idea what an Uzumaki was, or why the man seemed so convinced he was one. “Come now, no need to hide it, you're an Uzumaki. I can tell by your life-force, it's so easily noticed.” Trilby slammed his glass on the desk. “I have no idea what an Uzumaki is!” He said, raising his voice slightly. He despised the notion of a complete stranger knowing something about him he didn't. At Trilby's outburst, the old man put down his beer, looking him deep in the eyes. “You... really don't know, do you?” he said, a tone of genuine shock ringing through his voice. “What's your name son?” “Trilby” downing his bourbon in one mouthful, Trilby pushed the glass aside. His blood was boiling. Some stranger shows up, drags him off to a bar and starts telling him he's an Uzumaki? What the hell does that even mean? “Trilby what? You must have a last name.” “I don't. I'm still not used to having a first name. I was born raised in slavery, we had numbers. I've only had this name for four years.” Trilby didn't know why he was telling the man this, but something about him seemed trustworthy, even if he was angry. “What about your parents, what were their names?” “Names weren't allowed. Anyone caught using names were killed. People had names. Property had numbers. That was the law of the pit.” The old man pushed his pint of beer aside and leaned back, looking Trilby up and down. “My name is Shinji Uzumaki, and you boy, are an Uzumaki too.”
Trilby was in shock. He was an Uzumaki? How?! How could some random stranger show up and tell him who and what he was?! “And how the hell would you know that?” Trilby said, his volume increasing. He was struggling to hold back his anger. It couldn't be true, it was some scheme. Someone was plotting to mess with his emotions, torment him over the things he never had. “Because” Shinji began to explain, “The Uzumaki have incredibly powerful life-force, I'm trained in sensor ninjutsu, and we can smell a member of the Uzumaki a mile off.” Shinji held his hand out, facing the palm down towards the floor. A length of glowing white chain began to lower itself from the palm of his hand. “These are chakra chains. A technique only the Uzumaki can perform. Most of us learn how to use it naturally once we get ninja training, so I'm sure you've found you can do this.” Trilby mimicked the man's actions, extending his own chain out of his hand. He couldn't help but notice his was a lot less impressive. Simply by visual examination, Shinji's chain would be able to withstand so much more force than Trilby's, but he assumed that came with experience, or stronger chakras.
There were no words, no thoughts, no feelings to describe how Trilby felt. He could barely form words. So all he did was listen. Shinji bought him drinks all night, and told him stories. Stories of the Uzumaki, of himself, his battles and why he was here. He was looking for his daughter, who went missing many years ago. Her caravan was attacked, her husband killed. He caught wind that the people behind her kidnapping were running some operations in the area. All Trilby did was drink, until the man said two words; Ironarm gang. Trilby immediately shattered the glass he was holding, the colour draining from his face. “Your daughter was kidnapped, by the Ironarm gang?” he said slowly, making sure he didn't mishear what he just said. “Yes.” “HOW LONG AGO?” Trilby couldn't contain his emotions any longer, they were flowing out of him like a torrent. “Now son, I think you should calm down, there's no need to get angr-” Trilby grabbed the table, throwing it across the room. “HOW LONG AGO WAS YOUR DAUGHTER TAKEN?!” Shinji stood up, taking a few steps back from Trilby and placing one of his hands on the hilt of one of his swords. “ANSWER ME!” he screamed, staring at Shinji, a terror and a fury roaring up through his stomach. “Twenty five years ago.” he said.
Trilby dropped to his knees, he didn't know what to think. He screamed, cried, shook. It couldn't be. The time matched perfectly. It was all he could do to explain to Shinji about his own life. About how he was born in an iron mine, into slavery, by a woman who's caravan had been attacked, and her husband killed. His father had told him that she was a shinobi, that when they captured her she was branded with seals to block her chakra flow so she couldn't escape. And that she first arrived in the mine twenty five years ago. It fit. It all fit. The dates, his Uzumaki bloodline, everything. “So that means you're my... grandson?” Shinji said slowly, in complete disbelief. As soon as the words left his mouth, Trilby took off, running into the night. He ran all the way home, and sat on his bed crying into his alcohol until he passed out. He had too many emotions to process, and he couldn't handle what was going on. The man without family, without a name, without anything, just got everything thrown at him at once, and he couldn't handle it.
Word Count: 1499/5750
The streets were as crowded as you would expect for mid-day. Children charged back and forth up and down the streets, and people marched shop to shop. It was the sort of activity you would expect. Trilby walked aimlessly from street to street. He had no more books to read that he had clearance to and he had done all his practical training. No missions, no assignments and he couldn't find any of his friends. He had nothing to do but wander. A thick hand reached through the crowd, grabbing Trilby's shoulder. He jumped, turning around to come face to face with a rather unusual shinobi. He was in his 50s at least, and he wore the headband of the leaf. Though they were allies, it was still unusual to see them in Sunagakure. “I didn't expect to see a friendly face around here, let me buy you a drink” The man said gruffly. His smile was warm but it was clear he was no amateur. His entire body was covered in scars, and the Anbu symbol was clearly tattooed on his shoulder. Still, they were allies, and it wasn't like he was valuable enough to be killed in the middle of his own city, so cautiously, he accepted the strange man's offer.
He lead Trilby to a dusty old bar, the smell of smoke and bourbon filled the air. “What will you have” he said, gesturing towards the bar. “Bourbon.” Trilby replied dryly, examining the man in further detail now that they weren't so crowded. He certainly was an interesting individual. He had long, spiky red hair hanging down to his neck, and wore a sleeveless flak jacket. On his side hung two katana, which judging from the wear and tear on the hilts, were old and well loved. The man came over with the drinks and gestured towards an empty table, sitting across from Trilby. “I was surprised to find another Uzumaki here, the sand isn't exactly well known for having our kind.” The man said, drinking a large mouthful of his beer. Trilby paused, glass to his lips. “Uzu what?” He said, confused. He had absolutely no idea what an Uzumaki was, or why the man seemed so convinced he was one. “Come now, no need to hide it, you're an Uzumaki. I can tell by your life-force, it's so easily noticed.” Trilby slammed his glass on the desk. “I have no idea what an Uzumaki is!” He said, raising his voice slightly. He despised the notion of a complete stranger knowing something about him he didn't. At Trilby's outburst, the old man put down his beer, looking him deep in the eyes. “You... really don't know, do you?” he said, a tone of genuine shock ringing through his voice. “What's your name son?” “Trilby” downing his bourbon in one mouthful, Trilby pushed the glass aside. His blood was boiling. Some stranger shows up, drags him off to a bar and starts telling him he's an Uzumaki? What the hell does that even mean? “Trilby what? You must have a last name.” “I don't. I'm still not used to having a first name. I was born raised in slavery, we had numbers. I've only had this name for four years.” Trilby didn't know why he was telling the man this, but something about him seemed trustworthy, even if he was angry. “What about your parents, what were their names?” “Names weren't allowed. Anyone caught using names were killed. People had names. Property had numbers. That was the law of the pit.” The old man pushed his pint of beer aside and leaned back, looking Trilby up and down. “My name is Shinji Uzumaki, and you boy, are an Uzumaki too.”
Trilby was in shock. He was an Uzumaki? How?! How could some random stranger show up and tell him who and what he was?! “And how the hell would you know that?” Trilby said, his volume increasing. He was struggling to hold back his anger. It couldn't be true, it was some scheme. Someone was plotting to mess with his emotions, torment him over the things he never had. “Because” Shinji began to explain, “The Uzumaki have incredibly powerful life-force, I'm trained in sensor ninjutsu, and we can smell a member of the Uzumaki a mile off.” Shinji held his hand out, facing the palm down towards the floor. A length of glowing white chain began to lower itself from the palm of his hand. “These are chakra chains. A technique only the Uzumaki can perform. Most of us learn how to use it naturally once we get ninja training, so I'm sure you've found you can do this.” Trilby mimicked the man's actions, extending his own chain out of his hand. He couldn't help but notice his was a lot less impressive. Simply by visual examination, Shinji's chain would be able to withstand so much more force than Trilby's, but he assumed that came with experience, or stronger chakras.
There were no words, no thoughts, no feelings to describe how Trilby felt. He could barely form words. So all he did was listen. Shinji bought him drinks all night, and told him stories. Stories of the Uzumaki, of himself, his battles and why he was here. He was looking for his daughter, who went missing many years ago. Her caravan was attacked, her husband killed. He caught wind that the people behind her kidnapping were running some operations in the area. All Trilby did was drink, until the man said two words; Ironarm gang. Trilby immediately shattered the glass he was holding, the colour draining from his face. “Your daughter was kidnapped, by the Ironarm gang?” he said slowly, making sure he didn't mishear what he just said. “Yes.” “HOW LONG AGO?” Trilby couldn't contain his emotions any longer, they were flowing out of him like a torrent. “Now son, I think you should calm down, there's no need to get angr-” Trilby grabbed the table, throwing it across the room. “HOW LONG AGO WAS YOUR DAUGHTER TAKEN?!” Shinji stood up, taking a few steps back from Trilby and placing one of his hands on the hilt of one of his swords. “ANSWER ME!” he screamed, staring at Shinji, a terror and a fury roaring up through his stomach. “Twenty five years ago.” he said.
Trilby dropped to his knees, he didn't know what to think. He screamed, cried, shook. It couldn't be. The time matched perfectly. It was all he could do to explain to Shinji about his own life. About how he was born in an iron mine, into slavery, by a woman who's caravan had been attacked, and her husband killed. His father had told him that she was a shinobi, that when they captured her she was branded with seals to block her chakra flow so she couldn't escape. And that she first arrived in the mine twenty five years ago. It fit. It all fit. The dates, his Uzumaki bloodline, everything. “So that means you're my... grandson?” Shinji said slowly, in complete disbelief. As soon as the words left his mouth, Trilby took off, running into the night. He ran all the way home, and sat on his bed crying into his alcohol until he passed out. He had too many emotions to process, and he couldn't handle what was going on. The man without family, without a name, without anything, just got everything thrown at him at once, and he couldn't handle it.
Word Count: 1499/5750
Last edited by Trilby on Sun Dec 02, 2012 6:03 am; edited 2 times in total