The young Kaguya clanswoman had her own devious things to do during her spare time as a post-graduate of the academy. Her peers and most other graduates took immediately to the petty and insignificant missions laid out before them at the administrative office. The village would make use of their newly acquired talents by having them carry groceries for the elderly, find lost pets, deliver parcels. Grunt work that the non-military forces of the village should have been assigned. Her ego was just quite simply too inflated for that line of work. She wanted to advance in her station by demonstrating exemplary qualities to those who had the power to elevate her within her station.

Tokko would combine this sound logic with a repulsive and outright concerning mode of belief: She would be stalking the gates of Kirigakure no Sato for an outsider who she believed to be deserving of being culled. An individual with no need to be in Kiri, who had village ties too weak to be remembered, and it made things even easier to decide if the individual at hand was confident or half-way as cocky as the young woman herself. Those were the qualities the Tokko sought in her next prey. She stood off to the side, her amber colored eyes tracing the path of one individual who finally caught her attention.  It was no shock or surprise that in the world of shinobi, sometimes patriotism was used as a weapon or an excuse to do harm to strangers. What made that idea more intriguing was that patriotic hatred and xenophobia was often deemed acceptable while racially, sexuality, and gender based xenophobia were not. Often one of the latter would be hidden within the former.

To the delight of anyone, Tokko was not the stereotypical definition of a patriot, nor did she have any charged bias against people based on their race, orientation, gender, or anything else in that same general area. She had very warped ideas of who deserved to live and who deserved to die. Quite frankly, Tokko was not yet organized at all when it came to her goals, and seemed mostly like an inconsequential predatory killer of foreigners. She would not have been fond of knowing that this is what she appeared to be from an outside perspective. After she ensured a safe following distance, she  would trod lightly after the encroaching foreigner, dipping through a back alley and out into a more bustling part of the city. While Tokko was strong in her ideals and did not believe in hiding them, she was not stupid. She knew as well as anyone that grabbing this man up in the streets and killing him would end with her demise by the anbu forces, the enforcers of the spreading weakness throughout the village she called home.

She trained her eyes on the target, waiting for an opportunity. One final shortcut through a dark back alley would have surely spelled his end. The village market was absolutely brimming with activity today. Swarms and swarms of untrained civilian trash. The only thing worse than the untrained, weak civilians was a foreign ninja coming to the Village Hidden in the Mist as though it were a tourist destination of some kind. Tokko believed in the strength of battle hardened warriors. It was her view that peace in the lands had weakened even the top food of the food chain dramatically. A lack of conflict. A lack of struggle. These things allowed people to become complacent. The powerful shinobi of the past would have been able to rip through this society built upon a foundation of sand.

Tokko began to smile, her heart pumping with ferocity and her eyes widening with delight as he did make that one final turn off she had been waiting for. The narrow alley between the three story restaurant with the beautiful oriental dragon statue just in front of it and the more wide line of smaller food stalls was a quiet one. Water would drip lightly from the gutters and drainage systems which had likely gathered condensation from the climate of the Land of Water. Tokko’s footsteps matched the man who was only about 2 meters in front of her. By the look of him, he was not actually from any village, but he seemed to bear weapons that demonstrated some level of training in combat, strapped upon his back. Just as they reached a rusted and scarcely used door to the immediate left of Tokko, she stopped and confronted the man verbally.

“You do know that The Bloody Mist is not just some vacation destination, don’t you?” Tokko would refer to her homeland the way she thought it should be represented.

The man would turn back and look upon the genin of the mist, his look of confusion quickly blossoming into a beautiful one of fear, and then one of seriousness and determination.

“I mean no harm to you or the way of life of the people. I am a wandering warrior from a village far removed from the elemental continents, I apologize for any...”

The young man would end his sentence prematurely realizing the look in Tokko’s eyes. This was not a simple instance of “roughing up a foreigner” that he had come to understand over the years as just part of life. There was something unsettling and different about this young woman. He would grasp the hilt of his tanto and turn around toward the other end of the alleyway. The safety and “light” at the end of this “tunnel” was only a few meters away. As he hustled off in that direction, Tokko would smile sharply as two skeletal arms grew from her shoulders, reaching out two meters in front of her, she snagged the back of the foreigner by the shirt and yanked him backwards with an intense might, slamming him through the wooden door to the derelict building next to them.

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WC: 1001