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Jihi

Jihi


D-rank
...This place is so different from home, yet that isn’t a bad thing…

Jihi and her traveling companion Simikiel had arrived in Konoha the previous night, right around the time that the sun was setting. They had checked in, received directions to the nearest hotel, paid for a long-term room, and done nothing more than order room service for dinner before unpacking and turning in for the night. Their trip was a threefold one: a time for training, a time for learning new things, and a much needed vacation from the stress and hell that the pair had lived in for the past three years of their lives. For Jihi a vacation was the furthest thing from her mind: she had the goals of death and vengeance in her mind as always and strived to spend as many waking minutes as possible either training, or learning new things that would help further her goals. Yet, Simikiel was determined to make sure that Jihi enjoyed herself, and she had promised to try, which was precisely why she wasn’t currently hold up at a training ground or in the library.

In fact, the lean five foot tall feminine figure was currently making her way through the market, enjoying the coolness of the early morning - the sun, which had only begun to rise, having not yet begun to heat the air. As per usual Jihi was dressed in black: a pair of baggy pants which clung at the hips to her thing figure, a black sleeveless turtleneck shirt which showed the old slave brand burned into her right arm, and a pair of standard black open-toed shinobi sandals. Her chest was bound and wrapped beneath her shirt, something done simply to keep her from looking as feminine as possible which was her way of ensuring she was taken seriously, her short white hair as per usual a bit of a mess, with her Kirigakure hitai-ate hanging loosely around her neck. She was armed to the teeth: kunai and shuriken hid within various pouches, her prized bow and a quiver of arrows resting on her back. Yet, for once she hoped she wouldn’t have to use any of it: having her weapons on her more out of the fact that it made her feel comfortable rather than anything else - then again, she did the same exact thing within her own home back in Kirigakure.

...I’ve heard this place has some good food, I wonder if they’re right…

Her goal for the morning was simple enough, she had woken up with the kind of ravenous hunger that came from a long journey, and she wished to sate it with something more than the cereal, bagels, and cold eggs that the hotel she was staying in provided. Her companion had still been asleep when she had left, so she had decided she would simply find some food, do some wandering, and bring some food back ‘home’ afterwards. She didn’t know her way around Konoha very well, having never been in the village before, but simply by following her nose she had stumbled upon a street filled with several restaurants and cafes open to the early morning public, many of whom had signs and chalkboards that listed some of the tempting offers that the establishments were more famous for. For Jihi she was looking for a good cup of tea and something a bit different than just eggs or cereal for breakfast.

So, it was because of this search that she continued on down the street, ignoring several of the buildings, and moving hre way gracefully around the few people who littered the streets as she continued on her way.

Word Count: 625

Kinzoku

Kinzoku


D-rank
"What the hell is that thing on his back?"
"That kid stinks like blood."
"Why are his eyes yellow?"
"Creepy..."

He was used to the stares, used to the gossip. Until someone tried to put their hands on him, he didn't care. He'd learned to let the words roll off of his shoulders long ago, the words meant nothing. Someone would always have something to say. None of it mattered. Suna was gone, and all of those who wronged him were probably dead. It was looking like this was going to be home... for now, at least.

A kid walked slowly through the street. He had to be heavy since he left visible tracks in the ground as he stepped. The kid stood only 4 feet tall with a muscular, stocky build and tanned skin, wearing a red outfit with yellow trim. It had a large collar which hid everything below his eyes from view. He had frizzy black hair that was cut short, and piercing yellow eyes half closed with the expression that he was sleepy, or bored, or both. Ankle length brown slacks were on his legs, with black sandals on his feet.

What had to stand out about this kid the most was the large black gourd on his back, nearly as big as he was. Composed of iron with a red sash around it, his old Suna headband still hanging from said sash, the thing looked heavy, yet this shorty looked to be carrying it with relative ease. The gourd stank of blood and metal, causing disgusted and terrified looks of those in the streets and standing around. The kid walked slowly with his hands in his pockets.

This village was bright, green and sunny; a cool breeze blowing. It was far different from the harsh, dry, blazing hot climate of the desert. He'd been accepted here, and while waiting to become an official villager he would have to allocate living space. The entire time he wondered if he would have to endure the judgmental and bullies. Every village had them. His primary goal was to train, to learn new techniques, to become as strong as possible, but there was always someone who tried to step on you, to hinder your progress.

He was silently hoping that wouldn't be the case here, in a new village, in a new surrounding where no one knew the dirty details of his past... not yet, anyway. He didn't make eye contact with anyone as he slowly walked, his yellow eyes scanning the scenery, memorizing everything he saw.


429 words

Jihi

Jihi


D-rank
...That is a scent I know all too well…

Jihi’s pace as she moved was relaxed and calm, taking her time as she wandered down the street while simply allowing her mind to wander to the various thoughts that filled it from day to day: mostly thinking about home and what her next steps were in her new life filled with freedom. Yet, despite being lost in her thoughts she knew it when she smelled it: blood. Blood mixed with something that gave it a bit more of a metallic odor than blood normally had. She found herself stopping abruptly in her tracks causing an older woman behind her to nearly run right into her - the woman moving off with a grumble and a curse as she came up short of bowling Jihi over - her silvery hues scanning around as her mind snapped from relaxed to paying lethal attention. It took her a moment to spot where the scent was coming from; there weren’t any villagers lying around dismembered from having been sliced and diced down some dark back alleyway during the night, or some cook running out the back door towards the hospital who had clearly sliced his hand open during breakfast preparation. There was, however, a young man with a rather large gourd on his back, who looked to be at least a head shorter than Jihi herself. He was the only thing that could be considered ‘out of place’ on the street and as the wind picked up, blowing straight towards her, the smell of blood reached her nostrils once more confirming her suspicions: the smell of blood was coming from him.

Yet, this didn’t exactly mark him as a menace or a threat in her proverbial book: Jihi herself had spent several days wandering around Kiri not only smelling of blood but actually covered in it - a result of her last taste of vengeance against those who had held her and her friends captive. Instead of jumping to conclusions she watched him a moment, beginning to take one step after another so as to not block the civilian foot traffic. He seemed ‘harmless’ to her in the sense that he wasn’t outright causing chaos and destruction, death or pain, in fact he didn’t seem to be causing a bother at all save for those who wrinkled their noises or turned their heads in distaste from the scent of blood that they were not used to.

...They’re just not used ot the smell because they don’t have to live a life filled with it…

As Jihi mused quietly to herself upon the fact that the scent of blood wasn’t a deterrent to her, nor that it bothered her, she found her steps leading her not towards a restaurant as she had originally intended but rather towards the shorter individual. It was strange for her to approach someone, stranger still that she intended on making a comment to him. She wasn’t the social type, far from being a social butterfly, and more an introvert than anything. But, she found herself sharing a common albeit macabre trait with this individual: she too carried the scent of death with her wherever she went.

Adjusting her quiver to a more comfortable position on her back she found herself falling into step next to the individual, keeping slightly more than an arms length from him as to avoid crowding him or feeling crowded herself. ”I suppose they don’t have to get used to it with the peaceful lives they lead… the smell of blood that is.”, her voice was soft, get there was something phantom like to it, just like her near ghostly washed out pale appearance. She didn’t quite know what made her say that exactly, or what made her speak at all, but there was no going back now that she’d opened that door, so it was simply time to let the cards fall where they may.

Word Count: 675 | 1,300

Kinzoku

Kinzoku


D-rank
"Oh my god, what is that smell??"
"Geez kid, take a bath..."
"What's that thing on his back?..."
"He looks pretty cool!"

"..."

Every so often there was a compliment, sure. That was alright, but there were mostly insults. It was fine. His expression didn't change any, and he was barely listening. Would it be the same here as it was in Suna? He's never really had any friends, and he wasn't beyond the idea of making a couple, but he didn't figure he'd get the chance while carrying around this big iron thing that smelled like blood.

A lot of the kids that graduated with him from the academy got taken by squad leaders and formed squads. He never got the opportunity since the village was wiped out, and even if, most of the sand shinobi was opposed to the idea of teaming up with "that short yellow eyed freak." Maybe it would be the same here. Maybe he'd have to train himself, but it wouldn't be like genuine training from an accomplished shinobi. He was prepared to do things alone if he had to. It was the way it had always been since discovering who he was.

”I suppose they don’t have to get used to it with the peaceful lives they lead… the smell of blood that is.”

As if someone above was listening and watching his thoughts and decided to contradict him, a voice went into his ears, and he noticed someone walking along with him. Yellow eyes slowly moved though the sockets to land on this individual. She looked like a girl. She had white hair and pale skin, dressed in black. There were numerous weapons on her, most notably a bow and arrows. Her headband was different that that of the leaf; the headband of somewhere he'd never been.

His eyes went back forward, in front of him. "...But you are," he responded, his voice deep and baritone despite his small size. "...Maybe you've seen your share of bloodshed early on the same as me..."

He normally didn't talk so much, but she'd spoken to him, so he thought the least he could do was respond. he didn't know her intentions; was she friend or foe? Was she simply trying to welcome him to the village, or was she about to set him up? His trust in others was nearly non-existent, so he suspected everyone at first to be up to no good. Against ordinary people, like those in jail, he could defend himself pretty easily, but against other trained shinobi, his skills were yet to be seen, and even he knew he had a long way to go before he could properly take someone on. Yet, he was no stranger to beatings...

460 + 429 = 889 words

Jihi

Jihi


D-rank
... The civilians don’t know the kind of Hells most shinobis live through just to keep them safe..

She wasn’t entirely sure the response she was expecting to get: had she been expecting to be ignored, or perhaps blown off? Had she been expecting some kind of angry or confused response? She honestly hadn’t been sure, really. Having stepped out of her usual comfort zone she was in fact quite glad she got a response at all. So in silence she noticed as the male turned yellow colored orbs on her before looking forward once more, listening to the words he spoke - surprised at the deepness of his voice despite his size, though she hid it behind a mask of peaceful friendliness. The words he spoke seemed to guess or assume at the fact that she was used to blood, and went on further to include the fact that she had likely seen bloodshed early on like him.

...I’ve walked through blood and Hell more times than I want to admit…

Normally Jihi kept herself silent about her past - her slave brand wasn’t hidden, but she didn’t flaunt it either, nor did she use her past to get sympathy, it was simply a part of her, a tear in the fabric of her life that was tinted in shades of ugly browns and grays - yet in this case she found herself nodding in response to the male’s words, before deciding to speak verbally since he was looking ahead once again. ”I have indeed. I’ve witnessed it and unfortunately been apart of it for many years.” Ah yes, unfortunate indeed: while she lusted for vengeance on those who had harmed her she never enjoyed killing them in the sense of enjoying shedding their blood - she simply took joy out of knowing that they would never hurt her nor anyone else again. That they would never again cause pain and suffering. ”I’ve grown used to it long ago.”

It was then that she caught someone walking past who cast a particularly venomous look in their direction and she found her temper spiking slightly, ”I suppose these people should count themselves lucky, as it’s people like us who keep them from having to experience bloodshed themselves, and who keep them safe in their homes while on the front lines defending them.”, her voice was a bit louder than before, meant to carry to those nearby, causing several to look away as her words stung a little too hard for them to handle. In truth Jihi was making an assumption, outside of the headband hanging from the sash of the male’s gourd she knew nothing about him, but it was a safe enough assumption in her opinion and it at least made some of the onlookers go on about their business with a fresh perspective of things.

...I really am acting outside of my comfort zone. Ah well, might as well keep going…

Figuring she might as well introduce herself, it was the polite thing after all, she threw a quick silvery eyed glance towards the male once more before looking forward to make sure she wouldn’t run into anyone. ”I’m Jihi by the way. Mu, Jihi from Kirigakure.” She wasn’t entirely sure why she threw her home village in the mix, but figured perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the headband the male carried had a symbol not pertaining to Konoha, allowing her to assume that he too was far from home.

Word Count: 610 | 1,910

Kinzoku

Kinzoku


D-rank
The girl said that it was true about her having seen blood and death the same as him, and being a part of it, having grown used to it, the same as him. He knew that it was part of the life of a shinobi, with some seeing more than others, with some even growing to enjoy it, even. He himself was torn between liking it and not, but taught himself to become immune to the stares and the comments from the normal everyday villagers who never had to endure some of the things he and others like him did.

She made a comment about how they should consider themselves lucky that they never had to fight and kill, since it was people like he and her who were out there keeping them safe. This comment, loud enough for those around them to hear it, silenced the talk, and caused people staring to look in another direction. He was silently impressed, but it was true. These villagers were probably bored, looking for something or someone to gossip about in their everyday, humdrum existences.

The girl told him her name. Jihi Mu from Kirigakure. He'd never been to that village before. Truth be told, this was his first visit to anywhere outside of the desert, having lived there his whole life. He was impressed with the size of this place, but it wouldn't show on what was revealed of his face. Did the girl have family? Brothers? Sisters? Parents? He wouldn't ask, but at the very least, they cared enough about her to actually give her a name. He never knew his father, and his mother gave him the cold shoulder for as long as he'd been able to know, up until the moment she disappeared.

"...I don't have a name," he responded. "I was never given one... I come from Sunagakure... before it was destroyed. Some of the people there called me 'Kinzoku.'... If you want to call me something, I guess you could use that..."

338 + 889 = 1,227 words

Jihi

Jihi


D-rank
... Who could have parents so cruel not to give them a name?...

Jihi found herself blinking and glancing sideways to Kinzoku once more as he mentioned not having a name: how he had never been given one. She couldn’t imagine something like that - though her own name’s meaning had kind of come to fruition now considering the complete and total lack of morals she had when it came to killing those who once harmed her and those like her. When he went on to add that most called him Kinzoku - a name she knew to mean “metal” - she assumed it had something to do with the giant gourd he carried around that gave off the distinct scent of blood and metal.

She didn’t know Kinzoku’s story, and she definitely was not going to ask - it was his business, and she was a firm believer in staying out of the business of others - but she did feel some sympathy for him. She had lost her own family when she was only ten years old, but at least she had had them until then. She could only assume though that Kinzoku hadn’t had anyone, not if he hadn’t even been named. She didn’t know what she would have done had she not been given a name, and couldn’t even begin to wonder how he felt about it.

... I wonder if he’s here to escape from an old life too…

”Well it’s nice to meet you, Kinzoku.”, she spoke softly, glancing around as the smell of food caused her stomach to roar to life: she really was starving at this point, the hotels food from the night before hadn’t made a dent in her gut if she was being honest with herself, and yet she ignored that hunger for now. ”So are you living here in Konoha now, or just visiting?”, she asked curiously, having not missed where he said he was from. While her life had been rather busy lately it hadn’t escaped her notice that Sunagakure had been destroyed - though she wasn’t entirely up on all of the details of it. Still, she was curious if he was putting down roots here or moving on to somewhere else after a short visit. Of course, she couldn’t really fault him if he decided not to answer, she was being a bit nosey at the moment.

-Thread Exit, Continuing Elsewhere-

Word Count: 420 | 2,330

Taking my remaining 1,375 words from This Thread I used towards Futon training to finish it here.

Futon C to B: 1,375 + 625 = 2,000 / 2,000
Remaining: 2,330 - 625 = 1,705

Learning Sub Spec Kenjutsu: 1,705 - 1,500 = 205

Kinzoku

Kinzoku


D-rank
Then just like that, there were the memories. The memories of his mother, the woman who's face he barely remembered. the look of disgust when she looked upon him. The silence, the coldness. The fact that she never hugged him, never held him, never showed him any sort of love. The mumbles and whispers of the other villagers. The arguments between she and his grand parents. The many questions that went unanswered.

Then, his mother dropping him off with his grandparents, and vanishing one day. It was better there, but his questions still went unanswered, or were met with vague replies that produced more questions. The academy students and their whispers, their fake smiles. the revelation that his mother had been kidnapped and abused, with him as the result of that abuse. Then everything made sense for the first time. His transformation into a cold unfeeling young man. The first of several who made fun of him lying near death at his feet, bleeding out.

The smart assed stares turning into those of fear, and terror, which he preferred. Stealing, beating down those weaker than him, the only things that gave him joy. He got carried away, went too far, and end up in jail. A cellmate wanted to take advantage of him, to end up eventually crushed, within the metal of the very gourd he now carried with him everywhere. He was now deranged, a lunatic, crazy; he didn't care. Better that than the butt of someone's joke. Better that than to be laughed at...

Then one day, it was all gone. Destroyed. Swept away. All of the bullies, the people who spake bad on him, the people who laughed, used him as something to talk about in their boring day to day... they were all probably dead. Was it a freak of nature? Was it due to some insanely powerful ninja? Perhaps Kinzoku would never know. He didn't even know or why how he survived it all. The next thing he knew, he was wandering through the village gates of Konoha... and there were the looks, the gossip all over again. At least here, no one knew the truth.

And there was also the matter of this girl, talking to him as if he were a friend... something that had never happened before. Was it real? Or was she just one of them, wearing a mask? Maybe time would tell? "...I was accepted to live here from now on..." he responded to Jihi. "...My clan, the Kansen-Suru... I want to know how to control their powers... Up until now, it always happened at random..." He still didn't know why he was talking so much, but she hadn't come at him incorrectly... yet.

/Exit/

456 + 1,227 = 1,683 words

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