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Zinan

Zinan


D-rank
An Evening Rendezvous [Social - Konoha Shinobi Only - NK] KCFSNQw


21:13, Central Fountain Square, Shinwato, Konohagakure



Once more, Zinan found himself to be bored in the little inn room that he had rented. This time, he found himself leaning back on the rear two legs of the small, cedar chair that accompanied the desk in the room. With his left hand, he was lazily spinning a kunai around by the ringed pommel, while the right hand fiddled with an ink pen. He had written several, identical, messages on thin pieces of paper and rolled them into message scrolls, which he had sealed with a dab of wax and the spider crest of the Kumonosu clan. He had not sent the messages out, however, because he was still debating whether or not he wanted to break his welcome companion of silence in favor of the hustle and bustle of the city and the raucous noise that tended to follow groups of off-duty shinobi.

With a sigh, Zinan stood to his feet. He knew that if he did not send these messages out, that he would die from boredom in this tiny room. There was only so much that he could do in the inn before it failed to happily and easily maintain his attention, or distract him from the major events that he had completed or that were waiting to come. He gathered his equipment pouch and bracers and donned them; his bracers on his forearms and the equipment pouch on the backside of his left hip. The weapons and tools in the equipment pouch had already been sharpened and polished, and neatly stowed in the pouch so that Zinan could find the tools he needed in the heat of combat without any hesitation. The remainder of the tools had been sealed within a couple of scrolls that Zinan had been keeping on his person. He looked over to clock and it read "21:13." It was getting late, he knew, but shinobi tend to have odd hours of sleep and functioning.

The genin from the Hidden Leaf Village gathered up the messages and left his room. Instead of heading downstairs, which is where the din of noise was echoing from, Zinan turned and trudged upward. He knew that he would find a coop of messenger birds on the roof of the inn. Most inns had a nest, of course, but Zinan had seen a few birds being sent out of and being received into this coop. so he was confident that he would be able to get the letters out. The messages were addressed to a variety of shinobi from the Village Hidden in the Leaves and it had invited them to meet in the central town square near the fountain. Zinan saw the messages off to his comrades before turning and trudging all the way down the stairs and out of to the inn, onto the street.

The genin stalked his way through Shinwato, catching the glares of people who had assumed that he was angry or up to now good. At this point in this life, Zinan had learned to disregard and overlook the insulting glances that he received. After a short jaunt, Zinan found himself in the central square of Shinwato and placed himself against the wall of the fountain itself. He had crossed his legs and his arms matched. His black over tunic hung from his body, just as the large sleeves hid his web glands from the view of those around him. Now it is only a matter of time....


WC: 587

Honnari

Honnari


D-rank
'As the moon rises, the monument of my ancestors transforms.'


 The translucent light breathed life into the worn, faceless mountain of strong men and elder warriors. It smoothed away fissures and softened broken edges. In the moonlight, the crooked headstones stood proud, keeping to their duty even as time wore away the messages they bore. Honnari walked through the tangled throngs of nightlife and graveyard shifts, until he reached a back gate and an empty plot. This space, beneath the bower of an old oak, was his own. Crypts held much more sonder at night than they did in day. How odd to stand here in the dewy grass, knowing someday he would not leave it.

On a much more quaint note, an old--acquaintance of his invited him out to a landmark out in the Shinwato district. Signed by Zinan with what he assumed was a clan crest, Honnari wondered if he'd received this invitation randomly, or in error. He hadn't been the kindest their last encounter. But Honnari would like to think he has changed since then. No longer the brooding zealot mere months ago; time, pain, and people around him who make a habit of the impossible, have had their parts in changing his perspective. Maybe this was the Gods, and their willingness to give him an opportunity at a second chance.


Honnari had  a way of walking with purpose. People would often see the way he walked, shoulders back, yet eyes frequently checking his own appearance; maybe they thought that it was as if he felt superior and insecure all at once, perhaps that that is the emotional optimum in a shallow society. But etiquette, poise, beauty, and grace were things he was very conscious of.



It was especially boisterous in the village, even partly at night. What with exams taking place. Old men and wizened women placing bets and misplaced gossip. He'd missed the first few rounds. Hard to believe that hours ago, this area was filled with the hum and excitement of the village's finest. Too bad he wasn't a spectator of blood-sports. Maybe that was the zealot talking, but there had to be some immoral side to watching opposing sides beat each other unconscious to advance. Regardless of whether it was tradition or not, that did not sit well to his breast. Maybe that is what made him weak in that regard. So far, his career as a shinobi has not been of a warrior, but historian. Call it inexperience, but he has mostly served as the point of reconnaissance, rendezvous, or watcher. He is not particular bothered by the lack of action, or lack of slain men in his wake. After all, he cannot give life, so why should he take it? Still he awaits the day where he might not have any other options. Hopefully in the distant future.


"It says to meet at the Shinwato fountain, yes? Did he not keep his own date?" Honnari peered from either end of the dark square, feeling quite vulnerable. That is until, approaching the fountain closer, he found him, swathed in a dark cloth that blended so perfectly with the night. Stoic as ever, slackened against the fountain's gate, an expression that might be harsh but was just the exterior. Like an abated storm.


Honnari folded his hands, nervously intertwined. "Well, you must be more forgiving than I expected. Though you have me wondering if this is all just some ploy to right a wrong."


WC: 589/589

Sencha

Sencha


D-rank
An Evening Rendezvous [Social - Konoha Shinobi Only - NK] V74CvyC
Sencha.
9:13p | Nov 21
Multiple

An Evening Rendezvous [Social - Konoha Shinobi Only - NK] M7cT0E4his must have been a mistake.


X



X



X


Sencha sat with her back rod straight and eyes glued to the small scroll that sat atop her tiny dining table. She broke the seal without much care and as she read what was written a flurry of emotions rushed her. At first it was confusion, she only recently moved into her apartment how did anyone know where she lived? Next terror, was she next on the list to be murdered? Images of her fathers mangled face flashed in front of her like a flashing warning sign. Sencha flung the paper away from her but it barely made a difference. The paper swayed slowly before landing still too close for comfort.

Sencha read the note from where she sat. It was a request that the reader, her, meet at the fountain in Shinwato. Upon coming to the last line was a name Zinnan. Surely a killer wouldn’t sign their name. Perhaps it was innocent! Sencha skimmed the note again and then once more. Would it be worth it to go see the sender? She hoped so.

With her decision to go finalized, Sencha tossed her unruly curls into a ponytail and pulled on an ankle length brown skirt that was dotted with small mustard flowers and a nice blouse which she tucked into the skirt. Her clothes always made her appear unassuming, which was good because she was rather weak. She was reliant upon only the element of surprise to subdue an attacker.

Not for long

Outside was utter mayhem. All the people gave her a hell of a headache. Sweaty bodies and disgusting smells mingled as she made her way through the crowd to end at the fountain. She had only ever been to the fountain one other time and didn’t know any better way to get than straight through the crowded market. Breaking free of the crowd was like finding an oasis in a desert, refreshing but ultimately disappointing.

Beside the fountain were two people, Konoha nin she assumed. She noted that she forgot to wear her headband again.

Dammit

The young man who leaned against the fountain was draped in black, even his hair was black. Across from him stood the second person who was a complete opposite. Their long white hair stood out against the night almost as much as their pale skin.

“Good evening,”She addressed the pair with a tilt of her head. “I recieved a message from someone named Zinan? That wouldn’t be either of you would it?”

Underneath her skirt Sencha’s legs shook. Not enough to show but she trembled at the thought that this could be a trap. That these could be people poised to end her.




465



Kizashi

Kizashi


D-rank


"Alright, you've had enough, stop your fighting and get out of here! Come back when you're done starting trouble!"

That was it, that's when he was told to leave the bar he was in. It was the third one that night he'd been kicked out of for getting drunk and fighting another patron. Not that the fights were from bad blood or hatred, more a way to make easy money. Challenging other drunks to fight was an easy way for someone to make money if they could handle their liquor as well as the strange foreign ninja known as Kizashi could. He spoke with a strange cockney accent, something that was almost never heard of in the land of fire, especially from one who came from one of their most prominent clans. Or.. what used to be a prominent clan. The last notable ninja who sounded similar to him, at least when drunk, was Syekren Uchiha. And even then it wasn't in the same league as Kizashi's accent. Still, the matter at hand was now leaving one of his main hangouts for drinking, and worse, without his coin he'd rightfully won. That wasn't so bad, if he'd thought about it rationally. Though alcohol had a tendency for fogging up rationality. The Uchiha sighed and made his way out of the bar, inspecting the damage to his person. He didn't wear his hitai-ate out that night, otherwise he'd worry about having lost it. His black button up shirt was torn, exposing his pale skin underneath, and his jeans had alcohol on them in small splotches. His shoes were untouched, and that was a light in the dark.

Without thinking too much, Kizashi started making his way back towards the Uchiha compound on the other side of the village, which would mean he'd have to cut through the shinwato district. He wanted to get a new shirt, and his fingers fumbled upon the buttons of his ripped one, trying to undo them quickly as he sauntered through the cool night air of the village hidden in the leaves. The air was doing wonders to sober him up, and his thoughts could come to him much clearer. He knew that eventually he'd have to stop drinking so much and focus on the mission left to him by his old master. It was just a lot to put on the plate of someone entering the prime of their life. Being that he was already twenty-four, he was climbing the age ladder quickly. It was rare for ninja to survive to old age, the oldest recorded ninja having been the third hokage, at least, to his knowledge. His own teacher was at least thirty by now, and that was if he was even still alive. Such thoughts were depressing, though, and the man had finished unbuttoning his shirt, throwing it to the ground as he walked.

He mumbled to himself about the coin as he made his way home, his toned and athletic physique exposed to the world as he made his way. He passed by the shinwato fountain, a notable landmark that he always made sure to take a stroll by so he could be sure of his course towards home. He thought he spotted a few people hanging around, but didn't pay much attention to it. He couldn't care less what others did with their time, and simply kept on his course. He'd reach an alley cutting through Shinwato into the old Uchiha Compound ruins. From there he followed the path beaten by his foot steps over the years to the front gate, which lay broken since the days of old. Right next door was his house, and in front of it, waiting after knocking was a village genin.

The genin turned and recoiled in surprise at the sight before him. Stammering something out and handing Kizashi a note from someone he hadn't met yet. Before he could ask about it, the genin was gone, with a few more of the same note in his hand. He shrugged and opened it, as he stepped into the house that smelled of musk and booze, mouthing along as he read, his foggy mind still in the process of clearing. It seemed that the people he'd passed by at the fountain were actually meeting up, as they were from the village. It appeared that he was also invited for this little get together and Kizashi would simply shake his head, rifling through a pile of laundry for a shirt.

There weren't many that weren't liquor stained or dirty, but he did find a nice black tee shirt with the logo for a local bar on it. It seemed like good advertising if any of those by the fountain were drinkers. With one last look in the mirror to fix his spiky mane which was basically unmanageable, the ninja grabbed his hitai-ate and left his house again, retracing his steps back to the shinwato district. He'd tie the hitai-ate of the leaf around his head, having it rest on his forehead just above his brow, so at least that was mildly presentable. Kizashi made his way back through the old compound and into the alley he'd left from, spotting an old drunkard stumbling with a bottle in his hand. As he passed his sticky fingers got the best of him, and he found himself a practically full bottle in his hands while the drunk looked around incredulously. He'd shortly after reach the fountain with the other ninja there, nonchalantly taking a swig from his newfound bottle, eyeing each of them.

"Mh. 'Lo there uh..lads? And lassie. S'pose this is the meetin'?"

973
Thread: 973| 2,614

Zinan

Zinan


D-rank
Zinan heard muted footsteps and took a step forward. He nodded to Honnari as the chunin approached. They had met once before and neither left a good impression on the other. They were a stark juxtaposition from each other. Honnari was bright, pure, and had faith in the higher powers, while Zinan was dark, sinful, and only had faith in his own abilities. He nodded, his grim eyes hooded by his thick brow for a slight moment. He looked at the other man. "I do not feel as there is a wrong that needs to be righted. What happened in the past has happened, Jiengen-senpai. Let it lie and move forward." He offered an attempt at a friendly smirk, though it was just a slight expression.

He was going to carry on further when he heard more footsteps and turned his attention to both Sencha and Kizashi as they appeared. He leaned back against the fountain and looked over the two of the them. Sencha was dressed in town clothes and seemed timid. "Aye, I am Zinan, though that is a little familiar from a stranger. Please call me Kumonosu-san." He shifted slightly against the wall. "And you must be Sencha-san." He nodded to her once more and turned his attention to Kizashi. "And I can tell by your accent that you are Uchiha Kizashi-senpai."

Zinan looked at the gathered group. This was not everyone that he had invited, but it was all he was going to get tonight. It was getting later and later, and a group of shinobi gathered late at night in the middle of the Shinwato district would most likely draw the attention of unwanted eyes. He needed to make this meeting short and effective. He stood to his feet and tugged at the bottom of his void black tunic and adjusted the sleeves so that it covered his arms entirely. "I want to make this quick." He spoke in hushed tones to not draw attention to the group. "I am not one to act hastily or get paranoid, but I have had the chance to see a few of the shinobi from other villages. They have a different gleam in their eye, despite the outward appearances." He paused for a moment. "I believe that we will not see a ninja from the Village Hidden in the Leaves unless we come up with a strategy. We possess the greater numbers, but it seems as if the other Villages sent the best of their best genin."

He crossed his arms and looked at the two chunin and the other genin. "I was hoping to gather a few chunin and outside observers here to give advice to the exam participants, but it seems as if I am the only one who chose to come." He sighed. This was the most that he had spoken in a very long time; since Uchiha Kyohei-sensei made him speak with the Konoha Military Police Force's Chief.


WC: 500
Total WC: 1087

Honnari

Honnari


D-rank
Stepping into the well-lit area, was a petite, light-haired woman dressed casually. A tumble of a blonde curl fell from her low ponytail, as she tittered and juggled her nerves. Honnari's helm meandered her way, as he took in her unassuming frame. She wore an earth-toned skirt, peppered with yellow dots.  It wasn't that bland colour that's just a shade nicer than the brown of dirt, it was streaked with warm yellowish hues and butterscotch. It gave her some warmth, complementing her pale face rather than making her look washed-out.


Her nerves were misplaced, Honnari thought.  She seemed to be the very essences of summer, a goddess of the sun. Her golden hair draped down softly curling along at the ends. He would bet everything that when she appeared the day never ended and smiles never faded. She could be a siren leading everyone to sudden happiness. The beauty with the forever young, ocean blue eyes.


A titled grin curved his lips as he peered her over, his thin voice whispering "Hello." Zinan began to express that he held no ill-will towards Honnari. He was very grateful for that. 


"Exactly as I feel. Though it is against my nature to not ask you to pardon my trespasses. My thoughts were very brooding--in the past. And I've grown from many experiences since then." He would not bring it up again. Zinan wasn't the sentimental type. Whatever emotions he experienced, he would certainly never tell Honnari. Brooking no argument anyway or the other. Maybe his personality was too stoic to properly express social graces, but Honnari wasn't one to complain. So as long as he wasn't viewed in a negative light. 


Just when things were beginning to feel crowded, someone else emerged from the darkness. A boy, with hair white as snow. A sour and vile taste slipped into Honnari's mouth, nullifying him. He knew that smell that stole away one's reality in favour of fantasy. Similar to his father, whom lusted after it like no other, the strong tonic becoming his only "cure." He looked the boy over once more, and spotted the half-empty bottle and it's amber liquid. If his slurred speech wasn't a giveaway...


"Quaint." Honnari gestured to the partially inebriated boy, "I would say that you might only be three sheets in the wind, but that might come across as--disingenuous." Honnari came across as visually, and purposely unamused at his drunken entrance. What was normally a response of some faithful tacit, was now just from the lack of manners and ironically comedic, timing. Past his stark attention to the newest addition to their gathering, Honnari could hear Zinan chatter about the Chuunin Exams. Honnari could never get behind bloodsports, much too messy and stressful. But a right of passage as ever. And as coming of age here, as anything else. Normally Honnari could not sympathize with the contestants, but this year he just so happened to have a friend participating. Ever since they last spoke, he's been awaiting his safe, and unmaimed return. 


"You're the first I've heard talk of how steep the competition is. My advice with bloodsports has always been 'not to die'. Or are you referring to something else? Should we be worried?"


WC: 550/1139





OOC: Everyone make sure you hit 1500 words. :)

Sencha

Sencha


D-rank


He, Zinan, turned out to be the one veiled in black. As he took a step forward it became clear that the only thing that separated him from the night was his pale skin.

Sencha frowned at Zinan Kumonosu’s comment. It was an ugly expression she could feel in the wrinkles of her forehead and furrow of her brow. She ceased it as soon as it came.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding Kumonosu-san I didn’t have much knowledge of what else to call you.”

Sencha had meant the words to come out vexed and bitter, true to how she felt. Instead, she had to bite her tongue to keep from stuttering. Her voice came out soft and weak barely more than a squeaky whisper.

To be summoned here given nothing but a strange letter and to have her manners called in to question? Sencha felt upset and imperfect. A heavy rock settled in her chest at even the thought of being flawed. She breathed out through her nose and clasped her hands behind her back. She rubbed her fingers together to relieve some of the tension she felt building. One good thing was to be found though, if they had planned to kill her they weren’t trying very hard or at all. Her nerves settled slightly because of that and her previous paranoia sat on the back burner of her mind. While she didn’t lower her guard her legs had stopped the incessant shaking she had so hated. The only question left to be answered was why they’d all gathered here.

Sencha looked to the person with ivory hair to find them addressing her with a soft hello. Sencha almost missed it but with the voice, she was able to identify the person as male. Or at least she hoped so. Either way she had not a name to match his face but pronouns were a good start. Sencha smiled at him and responded with an equally quiet

“Nice to meet you.”

It was then the scent of strong alcohol flooded the area. Her nostrils burned at the scent and she swiveled her head to meet the source. Coming towards the fountain was a head of wild white hair that poked up in every direction. The man attached was outfitted in a polo with a logo she vaguely recognized, perhaps by seeing it in passing. Her eyes followed his hands as he took a swig from the bottle held. She wrinkled her nose at the sight and nodded back at him acknowledging his greeting.

Just when it felt as though this meeting had been drawn together with no true purpose, Kumonosu spoke addressing the issue. He spoke in a hushed and hurried tone as though he were telling a secret. Sencha had felt shocked briefly when he noted that he had invited chunin. she knew she was certainly not a chunin and that Kumonosu was a competitor in the exams so that left both of the white-haired men who had also gathered. Sencha was shocked that Kizashi was a chunin, he was a drunkard from all she knew of him. Though that was only a few seconds of knowing him at all. Sencha kept her lips sealed shut though and listened to Kumonosu's fears and questions. There was much more to being a chunin anyways.

Kumonosu seemed worried that a Konoha nin wouldn't make it out. That the others held more vigor and would certainly best the village hidden in the leaves. It was a curious thing to be loyal to this village. Sencha had never known any other village. Her loyalty, though with Konoha, was blindly placed. She wanted them to win as well but she didn't share his fears at all. The wins from Konoha were plenty, at least from the first round it seems.

"If I may speak so boldly Kumonosu-san, I believe your worries are misplaced. It seems that several of the winners in the first round were from Konoha," she spoke still wringing her hands together behind her back.

"I would be surprised if it wasn't someone from Konoha who won. So unless your concern is about yourself winning, our village's image should be safe."

Sencha toed the earth with her shoe and looked at the fountain. She spoke exactly her thoughts, the chunin exams would be won by a Konoha ninja. She was almost certain of it.







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