1 The Return of A Hero [Open|No Kill] Tue Nov 07, 2017 6:05 am
Kizashi
D-rank
Was he looking for a fight? Was he looking for revenge on the man who'd opened up the scar upon his chest and caused more damage to it, widening the center? No, the man stood in the slums of sunagakure no sato with his back against the wall of a rundown shack, simply because he was less likely to run into agents of the elder council here. Hardly anyone would come to the slums searching for someone, due to the dangers, and it was even less likely that they would do so to cause trouble in the middle of the day. There were many good things about coming to the rundown district of a village that was surrounded by desert, these reasons being what drove the ANBU, no, the ninja: Syekren to hang around such a rugged place.
The man had his hair cut and slicked back just enough to keep the bangs away from his forehead, the jet black locks matching his clothing. His eyes, each a different shade of blue looked around the multiple places an ambush could come from contrasted his porcelain skin with the one blemish upon his face. He wore the scar over his left eyebrow that reached down to his right cheek bone without so much as a twinge of shame of it. His black long sleeve netted shirt, the sleeves being blacked out to hide his arms, was not accompanied by a gi today, but was still matched with his black shinobi tights and tabi. He wore normal black soft step shoes and really just seemed to be begging for the sun to drop all of the heat upon him. On his forehead he wore a hitai-ate with the sand gourd and a bar over it, signifying himself as a ninja.
Remembering the last time he was in this location, the man pulled his headband off and pushed it into his pocket, bumping the hilt of a tanto the was attached to the back left section of his belt. Syekren moved his fit and muscular form from the building he leaned against, sauntering down the street, ignoring the stares of those he passed by. He eventually came to a bar of a name he did not bother reading. When he stepped inside, voices that were once talking and laughing grew silent, eyes upon the newcomer, the intruder. Without bothering to look around, he made his way to the bar, sitting quietly and waving for the bartender. "Firebrand." That was all he said and the bartender brought him a bottle and a shot glass. With a pouch of ryo and a wave of his hand, the man was left the bottle, with which he used to pour himself a drink, taking it in one quick swig. Soon, he'd look for the reason he came, very soon.
475
The man had his hair cut and slicked back just enough to keep the bangs away from his forehead, the jet black locks matching his clothing. His eyes, each a different shade of blue looked around the multiple places an ambush could come from contrasted his porcelain skin with the one blemish upon his face. He wore the scar over his left eyebrow that reached down to his right cheek bone without so much as a twinge of shame of it. His black long sleeve netted shirt, the sleeves being blacked out to hide his arms, was not accompanied by a gi today, but was still matched with his black shinobi tights and tabi. He wore normal black soft step shoes and really just seemed to be begging for the sun to drop all of the heat upon him. On his forehead he wore a hitai-ate with the sand gourd and a bar over it, signifying himself as a ninja.
Remembering the last time he was in this location, the man pulled his headband off and pushed it into his pocket, bumping the hilt of a tanto the was attached to the back left section of his belt. Syekren moved his fit and muscular form from the building he leaned against, sauntering down the street, ignoring the stares of those he passed by. He eventually came to a bar of a name he did not bother reading. When he stepped inside, voices that were once talking and laughing grew silent, eyes upon the newcomer, the intruder. Without bothering to look around, he made his way to the bar, sitting quietly and waving for the bartender. "Firebrand." That was all he said and the bartender brought him a bottle and a shot glass. With a pouch of ryo and a wave of his hand, the man was left the bottle, with which he used to pour himself a drink, taking it in one quick swig. Soon, he'd look for the reason he came, very soon.
475