[Recycling post from pre-hiatus]
[Events take place several months post-evac thread]
For the first time in many, many years, the world stretched before him as a finely detailed blanket of mountains, rivers and meadows. The air was brisk, with an unceasing wind, buttressed by sheets of clouds both above and below, breaking round the floating landmass. There were no peaks to obstruct his view here. The continent of Kishin, for all its violence, was an extraordinary physical masterpiece.
After a long trek through the Land of Earth, he'd leapt aboard the Heavenly Emporium, riding the merchant shuttle to its docking station in the underbelly. Up through the steel scaffolding, corridors, and hatchways he'd moved until the Stowaway, Irui had emerged at the ground-level street. It wasn't truly a street, more like a wider-than-average passage between structures. Despite growing up in the frosty mountains of the Land of Lightning, the cold still bit at exposed flesh. Even if he didn't feel it now, he knew even the miracles of Jashin couldn't stop frostbite.
What drew him here, he couldn't say, only that he knew he had to get off the mainland as soon as possible, before the Hidden Mist located him. What a sight this would have been, if he could have seen his future. Catching his own reflection in the window of the hostel, he tilted and turned his head, eyeing the scars and stitches. Experimentally he worked his jaw: Jashin's miracle had restored his mandible, fusing broken bone and mending cracked teeth. The swelling below his right eye had diminished too and his vision returned.
A hot shower, the first in many, many days washed away the scabs and blisters. He'd grimaced with disgust as trail of grime flowing down the drain past his naked toes. Why couldn't Mora have just finished the job? Torched him all the way through so he couldn't see what his skin had once resembled. Irui wrapped his arms about himself, shuddering at the sight of his mangled chest and abdomen. The doctors had done there best, but the damage could never be undone; a canvas of darkened, splotched and grafted skin had replaced his own. He mapped the lines where Jutsu and sutures had worked in tandem over his biceps and ribs. He ran fingers over a gnarled and balding scalp. Crevasses and craters of tissue pockmarked his bare crown. Gently he continued to scrub away, clawing the grime from beneath his fingernails. Wisps of hair circled the drain.
Surrounded by the hot water and steam he allowed himself to lean against vaguely cold tile and slowly withdraw, curling into a ball on the floor of the basin. The thundering of water over his ears drowned the whispers of Jashin, and he squeezed his eyes shut, cradling his head in pruning hands. The gnawing, ceaseless itching and crawling of his skin had quieted. He felt it beneath his skin, in his mind too: the wild, squirming thoughts, the desire for violence-- they had gone still.
Lucidity.
Memories of the Hidden Cloud and the Academy filtered through his mind's eye; eating Mochi with Bobi; stretching his arms wide in his mothers arms as they rode her great Takagari eagle. Wandering the winding roads of the Hidden Cloud. It all had changed when he'd spied the elderly woman in the Mikiri District that morning. He drew in breath through the hot water rushing over his face, and felt his body shudder under the weight of it all.
"I've killed so many for her...So many, so many." He whispered, clenching his teeth together. Sparks of violent electricity flickered in his mind. A flash of blood, limbs splintering and streets filled with howling agony. "I caused all of that.... All of that."
The water ran cold in time. Fresh cloth wrappings had been applied to his neck and torso. Carefully he worked them, just like Nameda had demonstrated, around his forearms, biceps, and stomach, until at last he finished wrapping his head. Irui, the Burned Man was gone again, becoming Kyojin.
Irui looked down at the meager supplies he'd had left-- a few exploding tags, premade seals and a pile of throwing needles. He tightened the cinches on the underside of the Echo Speakers gloving his forearms.
That boy.... He thought, That boy had been a one-man army with shuriken, clones and Wood Release. There was little he could do to wound him as well; A blow to the arm with concentrated Lightning Release had only briefly incapacitated him. In spite of it, they were equally matched. He looked down at the mark on his left hand, the distinctive diamonds, interlocked at his palm. In combat his opponents had only scarcely allowed him to test the capabilities of his lineage. It gave him pause, thinking on the moment. There was more to it than just absorbing Earth Release. If he'd had time, he was certain he could undo the child's Wood Release. He could unmake the trees and devour them like the other techniques.
They would meet again, he knew it, and then they would be truly even: Creation v. Consumption. The boy held nature in his hands, and Irui held the ceaseless void. He'd seen the terror on the boy's face before, he'd tasted it in combat with others. Fear had always been an equalizer, whether it was overwhelming elemental firepower, or with illusions as with Tsuki. There was raw untapped potential here, and Shimiko had bought him time to discover it.
His his hood drawn, and Kumogakure headband stashed, he ventured into the streets of the Heavenly Emporium, meshing himself with the wayward travelers. For the first time since the immolation, he took a seat at the nearest cafe and studied their menu.
"I've never liked this place," growled Asara. "Heavenly Emporium, my boot. This place might as well be a theme park."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, m'lady but a job is a job, and the Fisherman's instructions were fairly simple."
"Yeah yeah, dead or alive, take his left-hand, I know!" She continued, stepping off the steel-plated elevator. "But we're here for only twenty fucking grand Ajit! You'd think the Mikiri Clan would comp us a room or maybe a free meal for a job well done, bunch of fucking tight-asses...." She trailed off as she popped a cigarette between her teeth.
Aji paused and tapped her shoulder, and jerked his thumb to the red sign on the wall. "No smoking."
"W-" Asara sputtered, and sparked her lighter in defiance. "Ajit, I don't see a sign."
Playfully, he elbowed her in the ribs and skipped past . "As much as I would love for us to be able to break all the rules this time--"
"--This time? You never--"
He scowled and raised a finger. "That's not true, I've broken rules!"
"Uh huh, " Asara drawled and rolled her hand in a forward motion, "you were saying."
"The Mikiri did pay for this job. As far as Kumogakure is aware, this is strictly off the books. If we break too many codes, the Fisherman will be the least of our problems. The Division Commander will be on our ass, and so too will the Raikage. Maybe even the Church." Ajit went on, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his drivercoat. "But hey if this goes well, maybe Shimiko herself will take favor with us."
Asara cast a side-eye to her shorter companion and puffed lightly on her cigarette. There was a lot of missing information for this assignment. They'd been sent to the Heavenly Emporium, a gaudy place by her measure, hunting a wayward Shinobi from the Hidden Cloud. The compensation was too paltry, bare minimum if that. What did they think they were, Genin on an escort mission?
She cast her gaze skyward, watching the lights flicker in the vast metal underbelly of the Emporium. Distant sounds carried on the wind. A supply-Zeppelin sidled up to the nearest docking station . The metal clanking of her boots against the catwalk reassured her of solid footing. The nicotine calmed her nerves, but she didn't dare look down.
[Events take place several months post-evac thread]
For the first time in many, many years, the world stretched before him as a finely detailed blanket of mountains, rivers and meadows. The air was brisk, with an unceasing wind, buttressed by sheets of clouds both above and below, breaking round the floating landmass. There were no peaks to obstruct his view here. The continent of Kishin, for all its violence, was an extraordinary physical masterpiece.
After a long trek through the Land of Earth, he'd leapt aboard the Heavenly Emporium, riding the merchant shuttle to its docking station in the underbelly. Up through the steel scaffolding, corridors, and hatchways he'd moved until the Stowaway, Irui had emerged at the ground-level street. It wasn't truly a street, more like a wider-than-average passage between structures. Despite growing up in the frosty mountains of the Land of Lightning, the cold still bit at exposed flesh. Even if he didn't feel it now, he knew even the miracles of Jashin couldn't stop frostbite.
What drew him here, he couldn't say, only that he knew he had to get off the mainland as soon as possible, before the Hidden Mist located him. What a sight this would have been, if he could have seen his future. Catching his own reflection in the window of the hostel, he tilted and turned his head, eyeing the scars and stitches. Experimentally he worked his jaw: Jashin's miracle had restored his mandible, fusing broken bone and mending cracked teeth. The swelling below his right eye had diminished too and his vision returned.
A hot shower, the first in many, many days washed away the scabs and blisters. He'd grimaced with disgust as trail of grime flowing down the drain past his naked toes. Why couldn't Mora have just finished the job? Torched him all the way through so he couldn't see what his skin had once resembled. Irui wrapped his arms about himself, shuddering at the sight of his mangled chest and abdomen. The doctors had done there best, but the damage could never be undone; a canvas of darkened, splotched and grafted skin had replaced his own. He mapped the lines where Jutsu and sutures had worked in tandem over his biceps and ribs. He ran fingers over a gnarled and balding scalp. Crevasses and craters of tissue pockmarked his bare crown. Gently he continued to scrub away, clawing the grime from beneath his fingernails. Wisps of hair circled the drain.
Surrounded by the hot water and steam he allowed himself to lean against vaguely cold tile and slowly withdraw, curling into a ball on the floor of the basin. The thundering of water over his ears drowned the whispers of Jashin, and he squeezed his eyes shut, cradling his head in pruning hands. The gnawing, ceaseless itching and crawling of his skin had quieted. He felt it beneath his skin, in his mind too: the wild, squirming thoughts, the desire for violence-- they had gone still.
Lucidity.
Memories of the Hidden Cloud and the Academy filtered through his mind's eye; eating Mochi with Bobi; stretching his arms wide in his mothers arms as they rode her great Takagari eagle. Wandering the winding roads of the Hidden Cloud. It all had changed when he'd spied the elderly woman in the Mikiri District that morning. He drew in breath through the hot water rushing over his face, and felt his body shudder under the weight of it all.
"I've killed so many for her...So many, so many." He whispered, clenching his teeth together. Sparks of violent electricity flickered in his mind. A flash of blood, limbs splintering and streets filled with howling agony. "I caused all of that.... All of that."
The water ran cold in time. Fresh cloth wrappings had been applied to his neck and torso. Carefully he worked them, just like Nameda had demonstrated, around his forearms, biceps, and stomach, until at last he finished wrapping his head. Irui, the Burned Man was gone again, becoming Kyojin.
Irui looked down at the meager supplies he'd had left-- a few exploding tags, premade seals and a pile of throwing needles. He tightened the cinches on the underside of the Echo Speakers gloving his forearms.
That boy.... He thought, That boy had been a one-man army with shuriken, clones and Wood Release. There was little he could do to wound him as well; A blow to the arm with concentrated Lightning Release had only briefly incapacitated him. In spite of it, they were equally matched. He looked down at the mark on his left hand, the distinctive diamonds, interlocked at his palm. In combat his opponents had only scarcely allowed him to test the capabilities of his lineage. It gave him pause, thinking on the moment. There was more to it than just absorbing Earth Release. If he'd had time, he was certain he could undo the child's Wood Release. He could unmake the trees and devour them like the other techniques.
They would meet again, he knew it, and then they would be truly even: Creation v. Consumption. The boy held nature in his hands, and Irui held the ceaseless void. He'd seen the terror on the boy's face before, he'd tasted it in combat with others. Fear had always been an equalizer, whether it was overwhelming elemental firepower, or with illusions as with Tsuki. There was raw untapped potential here, and Shimiko had bought him time to discover it.
His his hood drawn, and Kumogakure headband stashed, he ventured into the streets of the Heavenly Emporium, meshing himself with the wayward travelers. For the first time since the immolation, he took a seat at the nearest cafe and studied their menu.
------ || ------
"I've never liked this place," growled Asara. "Heavenly Emporium, my boot. This place might as well be a theme park."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, m'lady but a job is a job, and the Fisherman's instructions were fairly simple."
"Yeah yeah, dead or alive, take his left-hand, I know!" She continued, stepping off the steel-plated elevator. "But we're here for only twenty fucking grand Ajit! You'd think the Mikiri Clan would comp us a room or maybe a free meal for a job well done, bunch of fucking tight-asses...." She trailed off as she popped a cigarette between her teeth.
Aji paused and tapped her shoulder, and jerked his thumb to the red sign on the wall. "No smoking."
"W-" Asara sputtered, and sparked her lighter in defiance. "Ajit, I don't see a sign."
Playfully, he elbowed her in the ribs and skipped past . "As much as I would love for us to be able to break all the rules this time--"
"--This time? You never--"
He scowled and raised a finger. "That's not true, I've broken rules!"
"Uh huh, " Asara drawled and rolled her hand in a forward motion, "you were saying."
"The Mikiri did pay for this job. As far as Kumogakure is aware, this is strictly off the books. If we break too many codes, the Fisherman will be the least of our problems. The Division Commander will be on our ass, and so too will the Raikage. Maybe even the Church." Ajit went on, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his drivercoat. "But hey if this goes well, maybe Shimiko herself will take favor with us."
Asara cast a side-eye to her shorter companion and puffed lightly on her cigarette. There was a lot of missing information for this assignment. They'd been sent to the Heavenly Emporium, a gaudy place by her measure, hunting a wayward Shinobi from the Hidden Cloud. The compensation was too paltry, bare minimum if that. What did they think they were, Genin on an escort mission?
She cast her gaze skyward, watching the lights flicker in the vast metal underbelly of the Emporium. Distant sounds carried on the wind. A supply-Zeppelin sidled up to the nearest docking station . The metal clanking of her boots against the catwalk reassured her of solid footing. The nicotine calmed her nerves, but she didn't dare look down.