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Starting a day. PTSD story arc beginning (Private) Thu Jul 11, 2019 12:48 pm
Chiaki
A-rank
Chiaki stared at the ceiling and blew some hair out of her eyes. It was a lazy day, a hot day, and she was in a sunbeam. Boy did she love laying in sunbeams. She was on the floor of her one bedroom apartment, her arms and legs sprawled out so that it looked like she had been napping in the middle of making a rug angel. More of a bastardization of a snow angel, than anything the seconds crawled by as she soaked up the rays, the heat, and the silence of her apartment. All was right with the world. She was in boxer shorts and a loose fitting t-shirt that had been flung around her as she slumped to the floor. She wondered what she should do with the day, or whether she should just can the whole idea of going out in favor of a little bit of ‘self’ time.
Scrunching her nose slowly, she squinted against the light that filled the room, closing her eyelids and letting the red light flood her vision. She didn’t feel like doing anything, not working, not writing, not… well anything. Rent had increased once again, and she was having her doubts that she could stay here any longer. It wasn’t a good life, being a genin, but when she made Chuunin, maybe she would be able to make enough Ryo to live in this part of town again. Why did she think of that all of the sudden.
Chiaki let out a sigh, her back pressed against the hard wood floor beneath her, her shoulder blades started to ache because of the position, as well as the base of her skull. Her heels were more comfortable, but her hip bones protruded and made those sore too. Rolling to her side to be more comfortable she groaned to herself. She had work to do, chores to do, and she didn’t feel like it at all. A small sigh, that went on, and on, and on to become a rather large sigh emanated from the tiny kunoichi. She was only one girl, what could she really do?
Visions flooded her eyes as she closed them again, the carnage of the Hokage’s latest rampage, the bodies around her, the smell of burning flesh, blood, feces, urine, all mixed together in her mind’s nose and she balked, gagging in the small room. The retching noise carried throughout the whole apartment, coalescing on her ears as she covered them and squeezed her eyes tighter. Curling into the fetal position, she wrapped her hands, cupped, around her ears. Her memory drove the knife into the man’s chest, she felt the tendons snap under her weight, felt his last sigh as he was launched into the final embrace of death.
Her jaw tensed, her back becoming more and more curled over her legs, she pressed her forehead against the coffee table which was vying for the prominent spot of her area throw rug. Chiaki was back on the battlefield, felt the hand on her leg again and she whimpered. She was terribly alone in that room, nothing to keep that skeletal hand from raking her again in her day dreams. The eyes looked into hers, the mouth open more than it should have been due to the lack of muscle and binding tissue, burnt off by the jutsu that was used on that individual.
She sighed and let the tears roll down her cheeks, over the bridge of her nose as a sob escaped her, filling the room and deadening the noise that she heard only in her memories. The memory hurt, but not as much as having to deal with it on a daily.
Chiaki buried her face into her kneecaps and cried, her body feeling hot, her tears welling up and spilling out onto the rug. The small girl, in the small apartment wasn’t noticed by the outside. Why should she be. This was a feeling that she had to get over alone. Get over it and leave it behind if she was to move forward as a kunoichi right?
____________________________________________________________________________
Half an hour later, she pushed her head away from the coffee table with a miserable groan, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes to wring out the stinging remnants of her tears that she had shed for the people she had to kill. She kept telling herself that she had to do it. She had to save the other people and she had no time for the people that she didn’t treat and either left to die or killed with her Kunai. She didn’t know whether they would have received treatment if she hadn’t killed them, and in the chaos of things, in the moment, she had made the best decisions she could.
After all, what was a genin supposed to do in a war of Jonin and higher ranked people? She had little to no ability to even heal the simplest of wounds, nor anything else.
Picking herself up and dusting her side off that she had been crying on, she made her slow way to the kitchen sink to rinse off the already crusted over leftovers of her tears that were sticking to her face. The warm water felt good against her face, but she turned off the hot water completely and cupped her hands under the stream, letting the cold water wash over her before she brought it up to her face and rubbed three times. The repeated motion of cold water over her face helped relax her, it was a sensation that calmed her, brought her back to reality, and more importantly helped with the swelling.
Reaching blindly around for a towel, she grabbed the nearest one, hanging on the stove handle and patted her face dry. A knock came at the door and a note slid under it. She wondered who it could be, she hardly ever received mail, and the notices from the hokage and from the administration office required her signature before the courier would leave.
Picking up the envelope, she flipped it around and looked in the upper left hand corner. It was from her parents. Oh, right, she had forgotten her birthday in all of the ruckus. No big deal.
She took her finger and slid it under the loop, bringing it up in a makeshift letter opener, she tore at the top of the envelope and set the envelope in the recycle bin, which was full from over use and under emptying.
The front of the card read, “You’re our favorite Fun-oichi!” And had a ninja girl with a party hat on her head in front of a cake. There were people gathered around her and she had made a hand seal. One that Chiaki recognized as a wind styled jutsu hand seal. She opened the card all the way, scanning the left and right hand side. Printed on both in garish gold letters were the words, “We hope you have a BLAST!” It was signed by her parents. The inside of the card was another picture, this one depicting the girl performing some sort of wind jutsu and blowing the cake all over the guests, who had their hands up in front of their faces, then the next side of the card was all of the guests, and the kunoichi herself laughing. The Kunoichi had her hand behind her head, a universal sign of her embarrassment.
It was a cute card, and Chiaki set it on the counter of her island, slumping into one of the barstools and leaning back, her weight now on two feet rather than all four. Even now, she felt like she had lost her parents when she had moved out, she didn’t want to feel this way, and it almost made her feel bitter about moving out, but she felt no closer to anyone here in the village than she started. Excepting maybe the people she had done missions with. She had no roommates, hadn’t invited anyone over for games, for T.V. marthons, for movies. Nothing.
Another sigh escaped her and she put her chin on the counter, covering her mouth with her arm and her eyes dulled, looking inward. What was wrong with this kunoichi, that she wasn’t able to invite friends over. They were messy, sure, they were uncouth, yes, but it would be fun, right? She thought it would be, and she didn’t know why she hadn’t asked anyone over yet. Perhaps she could invite Takao and Fuyuko over sometime? Perhaps Akaneya would stay with her once she got her feet under her as well?
Fevered dreams. She decided, pushing the thought out of her mind. Fevered dreams and nothing more.
Chiaki dressed for the day, taking off her clothing as she always did and placing it in the too full hamper. Shrugging, it was as good a time as any to do the laundry. Chiaki picked up the basket, which seemed to have gotten lighter since her training as a ninja, and walked over to the small washing machine. She crammed it up to the fill height, splashed some liquid detergent in, and put it on a high cycle.
That done, she decided that she would just rather braid her hair and take a shower when she got home.
Walking over to the closet she lifted her shoulders in the intake of the sigh, letting it out and her back curled over, her posture slumping and her eyes scanning the closet three times before she actually started looking for clothes. This was going to be a hard day.
She picked out some clothes, finally, before she would head in to work. She had decided that she would at least try to put in a four hour day, if not longer. Getting into her best underclothes, her best semi formal dress, a dress that was sky blue with red and yellow flowers on it, which Chiaki identified as pansays and hollyhock, she braided her hair, letting the braid fall all the way down to her tailbone. She put on sunglasses and stared at the reflection in the mirror. As long as she kept the sunglasses on, she wouldn’t be noticed for having cried. Nodding, she was ready for another day at the office. Another shinobi and Kunoichi filled day of paperwork.
WC: 1748
So far I have not a clue what to do with this WC. I'll sit on it.
Scrunching her nose slowly, she squinted against the light that filled the room, closing her eyelids and letting the red light flood her vision. She didn’t feel like doing anything, not working, not writing, not… well anything. Rent had increased once again, and she was having her doubts that she could stay here any longer. It wasn’t a good life, being a genin, but when she made Chuunin, maybe she would be able to make enough Ryo to live in this part of town again. Why did she think of that all of the sudden.
Chiaki let out a sigh, her back pressed against the hard wood floor beneath her, her shoulder blades started to ache because of the position, as well as the base of her skull. Her heels were more comfortable, but her hip bones protruded and made those sore too. Rolling to her side to be more comfortable she groaned to herself. She had work to do, chores to do, and she didn’t feel like it at all. A small sigh, that went on, and on, and on to become a rather large sigh emanated from the tiny kunoichi. She was only one girl, what could she really do?
Visions flooded her eyes as she closed them again, the carnage of the Hokage’s latest rampage, the bodies around her, the smell of burning flesh, blood, feces, urine, all mixed together in her mind’s nose and she balked, gagging in the small room. The retching noise carried throughout the whole apartment, coalescing on her ears as she covered them and squeezed her eyes tighter. Curling into the fetal position, she wrapped her hands, cupped, around her ears. Her memory drove the knife into the man’s chest, she felt the tendons snap under her weight, felt his last sigh as he was launched into the final embrace of death.
Her jaw tensed, her back becoming more and more curled over her legs, she pressed her forehead against the coffee table which was vying for the prominent spot of her area throw rug. Chiaki was back on the battlefield, felt the hand on her leg again and she whimpered. She was terribly alone in that room, nothing to keep that skeletal hand from raking her again in her day dreams. The eyes looked into hers, the mouth open more than it should have been due to the lack of muscle and binding tissue, burnt off by the jutsu that was used on that individual.
She sighed and let the tears roll down her cheeks, over the bridge of her nose as a sob escaped her, filling the room and deadening the noise that she heard only in her memories. The memory hurt, but not as much as having to deal with it on a daily.
Chiaki buried her face into her kneecaps and cried, her body feeling hot, her tears welling up and spilling out onto the rug. The small girl, in the small apartment wasn’t noticed by the outside. Why should she be. This was a feeling that she had to get over alone. Get over it and leave it behind if she was to move forward as a kunoichi right?
____________________________________________________________________________
Half an hour later, she pushed her head away from the coffee table with a miserable groan, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes to wring out the stinging remnants of her tears that she had shed for the people she had to kill. She kept telling herself that she had to do it. She had to save the other people and she had no time for the people that she didn’t treat and either left to die or killed with her Kunai. She didn’t know whether they would have received treatment if she hadn’t killed them, and in the chaos of things, in the moment, she had made the best decisions she could.
After all, what was a genin supposed to do in a war of Jonin and higher ranked people? She had little to no ability to even heal the simplest of wounds, nor anything else.
Picking herself up and dusting her side off that she had been crying on, she made her slow way to the kitchen sink to rinse off the already crusted over leftovers of her tears that were sticking to her face. The warm water felt good against her face, but she turned off the hot water completely and cupped her hands under the stream, letting the cold water wash over her before she brought it up to her face and rubbed three times. The repeated motion of cold water over her face helped relax her, it was a sensation that calmed her, brought her back to reality, and more importantly helped with the swelling.
Reaching blindly around for a towel, she grabbed the nearest one, hanging on the stove handle and patted her face dry. A knock came at the door and a note slid under it. She wondered who it could be, she hardly ever received mail, and the notices from the hokage and from the administration office required her signature before the courier would leave.
Picking up the envelope, she flipped it around and looked in the upper left hand corner. It was from her parents. Oh, right, she had forgotten her birthday in all of the ruckus. No big deal.
She took her finger and slid it under the loop, bringing it up in a makeshift letter opener, she tore at the top of the envelope and set the envelope in the recycle bin, which was full from over use and under emptying.
The front of the card read, “You’re our favorite Fun-oichi!” And had a ninja girl with a party hat on her head in front of a cake. There were people gathered around her and she had made a hand seal. One that Chiaki recognized as a wind styled jutsu hand seal. She opened the card all the way, scanning the left and right hand side. Printed on both in garish gold letters were the words, “We hope you have a BLAST!” It was signed by her parents. The inside of the card was another picture, this one depicting the girl performing some sort of wind jutsu and blowing the cake all over the guests, who had their hands up in front of their faces, then the next side of the card was all of the guests, and the kunoichi herself laughing. The Kunoichi had her hand behind her head, a universal sign of her embarrassment.
It was a cute card, and Chiaki set it on the counter of her island, slumping into one of the barstools and leaning back, her weight now on two feet rather than all four. Even now, she felt like she had lost her parents when she had moved out, she didn’t want to feel this way, and it almost made her feel bitter about moving out, but she felt no closer to anyone here in the village than she started. Excepting maybe the people she had done missions with. She had no roommates, hadn’t invited anyone over for games, for T.V. marthons, for movies. Nothing.
Another sigh escaped her and she put her chin on the counter, covering her mouth with her arm and her eyes dulled, looking inward. What was wrong with this kunoichi, that she wasn’t able to invite friends over. They were messy, sure, they were uncouth, yes, but it would be fun, right? She thought it would be, and she didn’t know why she hadn’t asked anyone over yet. Perhaps she could invite Takao and Fuyuko over sometime? Perhaps Akaneya would stay with her once she got her feet under her as well?
Fevered dreams. She decided, pushing the thought out of her mind. Fevered dreams and nothing more.
Chiaki dressed for the day, taking off her clothing as she always did and placing it in the too full hamper. Shrugging, it was as good a time as any to do the laundry. Chiaki picked up the basket, which seemed to have gotten lighter since her training as a ninja, and walked over to the small washing machine. She crammed it up to the fill height, splashed some liquid detergent in, and put it on a high cycle.
That done, she decided that she would just rather braid her hair and take a shower when she got home.
Walking over to the closet she lifted her shoulders in the intake of the sigh, letting it out and her back curled over, her posture slumping and her eyes scanning the closet three times before she actually started looking for clothes. This was going to be a hard day.
She picked out some clothes, finally, before she would head in to work. She had decided that she would at least try to put in a four hour day, if not longer. Getting into her best underclothes, her best semi formal dress, a dress that was sky blue with red and yellow flowers on it, which Chiaki identified as pansays and hollyhock, she braided her hair, letting the braid fall all the way down to her tailbone. She put on sunglasses and stared at the reflection in the mirror. As long as she kept the sunglasses on, she wouldn’t be noticed for having cried. Nodding, she was ready for another day at the office. Another shinobi and Kunoichi filled day of paperwork.
WC: 1748
So far I have not a clue what to do with this WC. I'll sit on it.
Hokage: 
Kazekage: 
Raikage: 
Tsuchikage: 
Mizukage: 