Drowning [ Neo-Sanguinis ]

“I’m tired of running.”

The words escaped his mouth and lifted the weight of the world from his chest. Hr squeezed his eyes shut and opened them blurred with tears. Lady Shimiko met his gaze, and the two of them shared in the icey, windy quiet of the street. He sucked in air through his nose and let it out as a long sigh, then lowered the hood of his robe. For a moment as he craned his gaze skyward, he could pretend he was home.

Home.

He opened and closed his eyes again. Irui knew that he wouldn’t be returning to the snow capped peaks of the Hidden Cloud. Only prison waited for him.

“Let me see your hands.”

Irui half turned towards the voice: A woman’s, the smoker from before. With a shrug he raised them and extended them to full length, his fingers splayed. He pressed his palms into the base of his head, and interlaced them. She was on him before he could turn; she took his wrist in her hand, twisted and pulled it behind his back and drove her knee into the back of his own. Stars exploded into his vision as his cheekbone smashed into the pavement. He gasped as her knee slammed down on his neck.

“Mikiri Irui,” She growled, “You’re under arrest by the Hidden Cloud’s ANBU Black Ops, for crimes against the Land of Lightning, and Land of Earth. You have a right to a military trial and to remain silent.” She planted her palm on his cheekbone, and pressed his face firmly into the ground, getting in a good twist that abraded flesh. He gritted his teeth and cried out as loose stone bit into his skin.

The woman bent low, her lips hovering beside his ear. “Enjoy it.”

-||-

“I want him awake, just for a moment.”

“Administering now….Vitals are stable.”

Light exploded into his eyes, wrenching them open. He winced under the harsh glare, squinting skyward as his vision swam. Vast shapes, shadows, loomed, garbed in green. Something shifted inside, a sharp pain to the left of his jaw and he gagged. Tubes had been stuffed down his throat, and into his nostrils. Swallowing only brought pain. He could feel them, like snakes, trailing down his insides into his gut  and lungs. A moment of alarm jolted him to rise, but a surgeon’s steady hand twisted a knob, and it passed.

“The Hidden Cloud’s Black Ops division was kind enough to retrieve you from the scrap bin.” Spoke a woman dryly. “Welcome to Project Neo-Sanguinis.”

Dimly, Irui twisted his head. Bags of red hung above him, trailing red cords that he now realized connected to his arms and legs.  He tried to form words, to make a sound from his throat, the tubes pressed tightly against his vocal cords.

Shit…. His thoughts gasped, Who…. Who is this?

A hand appeared out of his peripheral vision, flicking a syringe.

Not again…Goddammit all Shimiko….

The needle sank into a port on his arm, a thumb depressed the liquid into his veins. Warm radiated from his elbow, and cascaded towards his fingertips and up through his shoulder, before sluicing into his chest cavity. He felt his lungs balloon as air forced itself into them. The heat continued to spread, and before he knew it, his eyes had closed.

“Wake the up. You’re going to be late.”

“Late for what?” Irui groaned as rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He rolled over onto his side, and blinked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It flashed rolling numbers in brilliant red. “That’s… that’s…. What time is it? MOM?”  

He threw the covers aside and stumbled upright, hopping on one foot as he shoved his foot into his sandal. Hurriedly he fished for pants and dashed to his closet, looking for a clean haori. He thumbed through the hangars and finally grabbed a blue and white robe in his fist and threw it on. Irui’s dark eyes danced over the room, skittering across the bed, his desk, and wall hooks for the white sash of his shinobi headband.

“Shit shit shit….” He cursed as he mussed his hair. Maybe they wouldn’t notice, maybe he could skip through the morning. “MOM?!” He hollered again towards the open door. “Where did you go?!”  Her footsteps had vanished into the dimly lit corridor. A light popped into a room down the hall.

“Irui, come down here, you have company.”

“Company?” He echoed, and ventured into the hall. “We never have company….” His foot crunched against the floor, and he looked down to find grass rising from the dark. He stepped again, and met the distinctive crunch of stones. “Mom, I swear I’ll clean this up I didn’t mean to-- I didn’t know I…”  He bent down and began scooping it into his hands. Char and ash met his nose. “MOM?”

Irui looked up and dusted his hands.In the twilight he squinted at the black and grey ash as it spilled through his fingertips.

“Irui I said you have company.”

“Right… Mom... “ He picked himself up, and peered into the golden, morning light spilling into the kitchen. His eyes settled on the narrow frame of his mother, swathed in a coral apron. Her back was turned to him as she scrubbed dishware . He’d always admired her black hair compared to his Mikiri grey. It flowed in the wind, with a glossyness that reminded him of obsidian glass.

The cowled, rumpled form of a cloaked woman sat at the table. A steaming cup of coffee or tea beside her. The pale, weathered face of Mora turned to him and smiled. “Don’t be rude boy, its been too long. Come sit.”

“What is this?” He choked.

She raised the cup to her thin lips and sipped. “Same as always. Always asking questions, always hesitating.”

Irui pulled a table out, and took a seat across from her. She smiled thinly at him, and returned to her drink. Mora’s grey hair fell at the edges of her face in uneven clumps. As he studied her more closely, smudges of soot and grime flecked her features. She returned his gaze with her coal dark eyes.  

“Why are you here?” He ventured after a moment. “Why now?”

“The same reason we all are, dear.” She murmured, cradling her cup in her hand. “Will your father be joining us, or will this be a small get together?”

“Oh!” His mother chirped from the sink, setting down a plate with a clatter. “He’ll be along soon, just you wait. He’ll be home any day now!”

“My-my father?” Irui asked incredulously and returned to his mother’s form, silhouetted against the morning light.  “My father is dead. You know this! He isn’t coming home! He couldn’t support the Clan--”

“And neither can you.” Mora ventured cooly, “You need to understand the difference between a want and a need. You only want it. Just like you only wanted the Church. You only wanted to be Chuunin…..” She cocked an eyebrow, “You never learned to NEED something, like I needed something.”

He felt himself bristle at the remark and balled his hands into fists and shot up from his chair. “I understand perfectly fine!”

“No, you don’t. You only understood when your life was on the line.” She smiled now, showing stained teeth and gold fillings. “People only understand who they are when you put a knife to their throat. When they know there is nothing else but the here and now, and everything that comes next hinges on what they do in the present. Only then do people understand themselves and the things they are willing to do to survive.” Her bony hands raised to the hem of her hood, and she pulled it back, then fluffed her hair. “Am I wrong?”

Mora motioned with her finger, tapping on the table. “Sit.”

Irui ground his teeth, and reluctantly returned to his seat. He shot a glance to sink, to find it vacant of his mother’s presence. He craned his neck, and twisted to look around. The house had grown still and quiet.

“A want, dear Irui, is something you crave, but a need… A need is very much like water. We all need water to survive.” Her cold eyes moved from Irui back to her drink, and she looked into it with marked stoicism. “Stop wanting things. You must need them. Your entire life has been defined by the plots of the many, my own included.” Her eyes flicked to meet his again, and he stared back.

There was no glint of life in her irides. They drank in the light of the room. He wondered if his own had that same look; the dark circles, the beginnings of crows feet. He was so tired, so very tired of it all, and she was right. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze.

“Its curious that Lord Jashin would sculpt your life with fire.” Mora mused, and pulled a silver lighter from her pouch. She flicked it open, and flame spat from its top. “Mogiri’s flame, the Civil War….” She nodded to him and grinned slyly. “Our duel.”

Irui started to speak, but found his words caught in his throat. He doubled over, gagged, and and clutched his sides. A horrible heat sparked from within, skin hissed and blistered. What began as a gasp, quickly clawed its way to a howl of agony that ripped itself from his throat. Smoke poured from beneath his clothes, Embers tinged blue  whorled into the air, and ate holes through his haori, bursting into full fledged flames.

“You will always be burned, Irui.” Mora continued, her voice sharpening to a hiss. “You will always be burned by others until their muses run dry, and you are left with nothing.”

He rolled onto the floor and struck the tile hard. His thrashing legs snapped a leg from beneath the chair and it tumbled loudly/ The vaguely cool tile pressed against his flesh. It did little to hold back the flame as he clawed and his clothing. He screamed for his mother, for his father, for anyone to come, but his scorched lungs and throat yielded nothing. Through ghostly blue flame he looked up into the face of a looming Mora.  

“I’ll say it again. What do you need?!”

Irui reached up with a charred and blistered hand, feebly grasping at air.  

What do I need? The fire overtook his thoughts immediately, devouring them  as it ate away at his flesh. His body twitched and jerked, and he lay naked in a pile of ash and burnt cloth, rolling back and forth across the tile, hoping to smother the flames.  Sparks of electricity snapped from his fingertips and he looked to the sink, brimming with soap and dishes.

“I need to belong….”

The lightning exploded from his hand, shearing the table in two. It snapped wildly against the sink, cracking the ceramic basin. Lightning tore into the sink, and pried open the fracture. Black, iridescent fluid gushed onto the floor. It ran like water, shone like oil. He slipped and fell onto the tile, his wounds smoking and hissing.

“I need to belong!” He barked and he reached out, with electricity skittering wildly now. : I want to belong to the Hidden Cloud!!”  His thoughts coalesced, to Tsuki, Sora and Bobi. “I don’t want to be an outcast!!”

The sink exploded, and the black water cascaded into the room, washing over him as a cold tide. He’d done all those things, all those horrible things just to belong to someone. He wanted so badly to belong to the Church, to be at Mora’s side. To be seen as an asset of immeasurable value. Lady Shimiko too had taken him under her wing, and he’d craved what she’d achieved-- her authority, her strength. He’d craved everything, asking for pieces and crumbs, never taking it for himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the water became a river.  Pipes burst, windows shattered, and before long, the walls groaned and buckled. The kitchen collapsed around them, the flames died, and he was left cold, alone and naked.  It took him, swallowed and plunged him beneath its surface, ripped the air from his lungs.  Water became grasping fingers and hands, and from the dark, materialized all manner of human limbs. They grasped, and pulled, dug nails into his skin. Between the tangle and frenzy, there were faces too-- men, women, and cherubic children-- some laughing, others screaming, wailing. He let out a hoarse, strangled scream of his own, that escaped bubbles. They only pulled him down further. He tasted iron, hot, sticky iron, and salt, and the sickly sweet of burning flesh filled his nose.

“I didn’t mean---”

“Oh but you did.” Mora’s voice whispered, “You answered Lord Jashin’s call to cull the herd, to thin their numbers. You pruned and slashed with abandon.”

“That wasn’t me-- !!” Irui protested. A thick arm wrapped itself around his neck, holding him fastat the crook of his elbow. Fingers dug into the side of his head. Another bore fingers into his neck, and all the while the screaming and wailing grew louder. “I-- I attacked those people, in the name of Lord Jashin. They were innocents, just trying to evacuate the war zone, and I slaughtered them! I killed soldiers, I killed families---I--!!”

Lightning flared in his hand anew and surged into the deep, illuminating the forest of hands and arms with ghostly purple, severing limb from limb. The screaming only grew, and with it, so too did the lightning; a rippling, wild surge that hissed and skittered, flashing with violence. He clawed his way to the surface and gasped as he forced air into his lungs. A current had gathered itself beneath him, the water sank and rose, undulating  rhythmically as a tide . Try as he might, he could not summon the chakra to lift himself onto the water’s surface, his toes and hands couldn’t find purchase, and he resigned himself to float on his back.

“What is this?” He questioned, and gazed upwards at the river of stars twisting through an obsidian sky. He wiped the saltwater from his eyes and let the scenery drift. “I’ve always been a tool for others. What am I even doing here?” He asked aloud, and then with a full throated voice:

“WHAT AM I DOING HERE?! WHAT IS THIS?”

His words died in the night air, swallowed by the waves.

“WHERE AM I?!” He screamed.

A sharp crack split the air, roaring like great thunder, heralding a burning spear that cut through the cloud-- a shooting star, no a meteorite! It burned white hot, flaring with tinges of orange and emerald as it plummeted through the atmosphere. With a great flash of heat and light it smashed into the distant features of snow-coated island; the death-strike of the meteor resounding across the open water.

He craned his head towards them, half dipping his face in the dark water to look. They loomed ever closer, and soon he was able to make out features. The ridgelines, the spires, the curl of a beach. He knew those frostbitten features well. Further beyond the island still, he could see others on the horizon, growing steadily higher and higher until they formed a crown ringed by clouds. The ocean’s current now took hold, and with alarming speed, he found himself flipped over onto his stomach as the waves careened forward. He coughed and spat,, paddling and clawing the water in an effort to stay upright. Salt water filled his nose and mouth. Head over heel he tumbled through the water, he knee bashing into his cheek, naked hip abrading against sea stone. He felt the sea floor rise up from beneath him, pressing against his stomach as it carried him forward and onto the beach itself.

Irui reached forward, his bones and muscles aching as the cold seeped into them. He crawled on hands and knees as bits of stone and broken seashell bit into his calf, hauling himself from the surf to finally rest against a slab of rock. The warm glow of fire flickered just beyond the beach, smok poured from a gaping wound torn into the mountain’s face. Limping, Irui picked his way across the beach, tumbling and slipping until he made his way towards the crater. If there was flame, there was heat, and if anything, a moment’s rest.  

The smoke and sulfur grew stronger as he approached. Hot meltwater trickled over stone, gushing from the icy crater that lay ahead. Finally, he came to stand at its rim, and found not a smoking rock, but a sarcophagus of sorts. All metal and glass, with small lights dancing in synchronized fashion across its surface. Its lid had been caved and cast aside, glass sprinkled across the exterior. Char caked the coffin’s surface. Score marks, still burning red hot, punctured the exterior.  

It wasn’t a coffin, he realized. It was a boat of some kind; there was cushioning and compartments. His eyes soon spotted red-- blood, spattering the glass, a handprint on the inside where the lid had been thrust open. He squinted, here and there amongst the flame and wreckage, there were footprints, and began to trace a staggering trail up the side of the crater, until at last, he came upon a rumpled cloth, crawling upon the ground on all fours.

“Hey….!” Irui shouted, “HEY! STOP!”  His feet gathered beneath him, and he began to limp around to the rim of impact. He pushed off a rock, and staggered forward, trying to pick up speed across the hot and jagged ground. Stone cut into his soles, leaving bleeding wounds, lacerated his pads and heel and he cried out.

A sharp jolt wracked his chest.

A second caught him, and brought him to his knees.

Irui doubled over, grasped at his abdomen, grimacing until a third jolt brought the ground upwards to collide with his face.

He jolted upright, blinding fluorescents and an alarm screaming into his ear. He lurched forward, grasping at tubing and wires only for men and women in white to rush forward. They pressed him against the pillow of the hospital bed, applying pressure on his shoulders. Others secured straps to his wrists.

“He’s crashing!” Someone hollered. “Get the doctor!”

- || -

"HE'S CRASHING" A voice cried out.

A fourth jolt of electricity coursed through his chest. His body seized, arching violently towards the ceiling. Light exploded into his vision, and he came crashing back down onto the cold, wet ground. He coughed and gasped, clutching his chest with a twitching hand, and steadied himself with the other. His fingers curled around the cold stones, and he looked ahead as the figure began to scramble beyond the fire light.

In the distance, a second and third explosion drew his attention. Violent flashes of light, far, far above flickered and broke apart, screaming as it fell to Earth. It branched into smaller and smaller fragments that streaked through the night sky, and hurtled across the land. Distant thunder erupted where they struck the land. Brilliant flashes of crimson cut knife-like through the upper atmosphere, one-two one-two.

"Maybe the Gods are fighting tonight...." He reasoned, and gave chase to the fleeing figure as fast as his legs would carry him.  Spatters of blood and footprints marked the way through deepening snow. The further from the shore, the denser the pine forest grew. Irui post-holed, maddeningly driven by threat of frostbite. His legs sinking up to his half  in the deepest parts, he'd plunge hands first into the snow, gasping and cursing aloud as fresh cold engulfed him. Snow against bare skin was almost as cruel as flame; it cooled the body temperature, melted against hot flesh, and chilled the body to the bone.

He reached out, grasping for the bloody snow ahead of him.

"Please... Stop.... Running!"

The figure continued stumbling ahead, vanishing beneath the snowy boughs of trees and into the veil of swirling snow.

Blue flame ignited in his right hand.

"I SAID STOP RUNNING!" He roared, pushed himself up, and threw his hand forward to fire   a plume of brilliant ghostly fire. Snow evaporated in its wake, sending up curtains of steam. The traveler fell back, and reached out a hand that seemed to catch the flame, and for a moment the two of them were conjoined by the fire. The light of the flame died, with only filaments catching pine needles ablaze.

With fresh ground exposed, Irui treaded over the thawed earth, and at last came upon the traveler. He wore clothing made of white fabric, resembling a kimono. Glimmering patterns embroidered into robe resembled constellations. His hair, silver in color, was long and straight, fell across his shoulders, while his face was pale. To Irui, the traveller resembled starlight in human form. He clutched his side, where fresh blood oozed. What struck him most was the color of his eyes-- a deep, charcoal black, like his, Mora's and Morikawa's had been. His eyebrows, cropped into a circular form, denoted a familiar double-diamond tattoo framing the third-eye of his forehead.

Irui swallowed hard, "Who are you?"

The man smiled back, baring pointed canines, and suddenly, Irui found himself stepping back. The man's pale lips moved wordlessly, and he extended a hand towards Irui, with his fingers outstretched. He met Irui's eyes with his own.

"Amatsu-Mikaboshi, and you are Irui."

"Irui." he repeated, "Irui?"

Light tore into Irui's vision, but soon the features of the white room began to come into focus. His heart raced, his lungs heaved. Pairs of gloved hands steadied him, pressing him back into the hospital bed. He blinked furiously, and twisted his head from left to right, searching the room wildly.

"Where-- where am I?!" He demanded.

"You're in the medical ward, still in intensive care. You had a bad reaction to antibiotics. Please try to relax. Nurses will be here to make sure you are stabilized."

He looked down as his hospital gown, to the tubes and wires connected to his limbs and chest. he felt up his abdomen. It had all been so real, the snow, the water. Even the scent of Mora's perfume, it had all been so vibrant. He looked down at his trembling hands, and to the mark on his palm. It shimmered faintly with red. Metal clanked together, and he realized the bracelets weren't simply medical restraints; they were handcuffs. He jerked and pilled at them.

"Where am I?" He asked again, and felt a horrible sinking in his gut.

"Kumogakure Psychiatric Ward," said Mora from the foot of the bed.

__________

Total word count: 3,790
Post-War Perk "Re-awakening".
Unlocked:
- Water Style
- Accelerating Returns (15%)
- Discarding Storm Release Implant, will post in updates (Reason: Does not fit)

“The Kumogakure Psychiatric Ward,” Answered Mora from the foot of his bed. She stood, cowled in her black cloak. The harsh overhead lighting only serving to further accentuate her creased face. Her grey hair hung shaggily. “Where you belong.” She added curtly, with a slight smile, “You’re in no condition to be in the public eye. You are here for your own protection.”

She cast an eye to the nurse that work diligently at Irui’s side, and side-stepped another pulling a chart from a rack. Mora stepped around the man, and peered over his shoulder, lips pursing as she scanned it.

“Oh, not good, not good.”  She purred,

Irui bristled, “What are you reading?!” He snapped.

The Nurse looked up from the chart, and narrowed his eyes at the remark, then scribbled something  with his pen. “Nothing,” He answered curtly. “Nothing  to worry about. Just making sure we have everything documented. You can rest for now.”

The man smiled sweetly, but it was dripping with trained insincerity. He detested that smile, Irui did, and could only scowl back. His eyes flicked from the Nurse to the other physicians in the room donned in white lab coats. They were all just the same, fiddling with charts and instruments-- busy work.

Mora continued to drift about the room, bobbing and weaving as carelessly as a fly. Her black frock wheeling with her, bony hands clasped behind her back. A wry grin peeled across her lips, but her eyes were always on him. Those charcoal black always, never once leaving him.

Another nurse swathed in blue checked the collection of monitors to his left. She tapped several times on the screen, making her selections with deft presses. “Alright,” She said after a moment, “I’m just going to make you a little more comfortable. You’ll feel a little bit sleepy, but then we are going to be moving just down the hall.”

Irui breathed in, and squeezed his eyes shut. Already he felt something new moving through him. She’s good, He thought, Must have... dosed me first….  

“I--” Irui started, but his tongue felt like a weight in his mouth. “I--jst-I--” Try as he might, the words slurred together, his face and lips numbed. The strength was knocked out of his muscles, he felt his neck turn to jelly and his head lolled to the side. “I--pl--pl--”

He barely felt the saliva running from his mouth.

"Here we are, Irui! Time to wake up!" A syrupy voice chirped.

Slowly the darkness peeled back as his eyes opened. Blurry scenery came sharply into view as light spilled into the vast open room. White walls with white tables and matching curtains. He tried to speak, but words failed to find purchase in his dry throat. His tongue felt swollen and heavy, even his jaw was slack. Weakly he turned to look up into the heart-shaped face of a dark haired woman.

"Mo- Mo--..?" He croaked.

"Oh don't worry, we'll bring you some water soon enough." She continued, pushing his wheelchair across the room to a vacant table. She popped the brakes on and swiveled him into position at a table that was too tall, or the chair was too short. All he wanted to do was drape himself over the table, to rest, to get his bearings. A plastic cup clacked onto the table, filled less than half-way with water. She placed it on the opposite end of the table, just scarcely out of reach, and with a smile, turned away to tend to another patient.

Irui picked his head up and watched her go, "Water...." He whispered, "Water..."

Through half-lidded eyes, Irui stared at the glass of water parked on the other half of the table. He reached up for it, but found the medication had turned his  limbs into lead. He dropped his arm to the side with dismay, and looked back at the glass. A thin bead of condensation rolled down the side, and pooled lazily at its base.

He lurched and threw his shoulder forward as he moved his arm, carrying it high enough for his fingers to clasp the edge of the table before slipping off. He collapsed back into the wheelchair, and let himself hang limply. The smallest exertion was draining. With his cheek resting on the ridge of the seat, he studied himself and the chair.

This was what it all amounted to-- the Exams, the Church, the Land of Earth--dressed in a hospital gown. A triplet of bracelets hung around his wrist, bearing writing too small for his eyes to make out. His eyes wandered. There was something off about his naked skin, it was smoother now; with large  lightning-like stretches of pale flesh. Thin lines of pink, dotted with even marks along their side cut through some. At least the surgeons had the kindness to repair some of the scar tissue that had turned his body into a patchwork. It wasn't pretty, but it was better than feeling every muscle and fiber snag and pull at the slightest exertion. Not all of it had been repaired; he could still feel scarring along his stomach, chest and ribs. Some of it spidered up his neck. Whenever he swallowed, there too he could feel where the intubation had aggravated old wounds-- it was a miracle he could even speak or see for that matter. The surgical had team had done enough work to keep him mobile, to prevent further exacerbation, it wasn't done in kindness, he knew-- more of an effort to keep their work tidy and neat. Their work cleaned up what the immortality of Jashin could not.

Soon his eyes found the window, and he stared back at himself. Large dark circles underscored his eyes. He was gaunt, the reflection told him that much. Across the left side of his face, a spiderweb of burnscars still persisted, knotting flesh, crossing the bridge of his nose. He studied the dermal cartography, remembering vividly how the flames had lashed his face. His lips too, once cracking and bleeding, now were pitted and marked with smoothed scarring.

"Project Neo-Sanguinus...." He murmured

She'd seen many things in her career in Kumogakure's psychiatric ward. No matter how strong a shinobi believed themselves to be, the mind was always frailest. Shimoda's heels clicked as he strode down the white tiled, light filled corridors of the facility. Softly, she smiled, and stepped aside, as an attendant wheeled a wild-haired man by her in a wheel chair.

"Y-you have to give me my shit back! I am centuries ahead of you people! I am a god compared to you!" The man hollered, "You don't get it, I'm not crazy! You're all fantasies of higher beings, your existence is nothing but chaos! You think your life has purpose, it doesn't! Its still being written second by second! They can freeze time!"

"Riku," She greeted, placing a hand lightly on the man's bony shoulder "We understand. This is a trying time for many, and I am here for you. I'll work with our teams to get your son back. For now, you must relax." Shimmering, emerald light radiated from her palm, and traced through the underpinnings of his body. In an instant, she felt chaos, a craven hunger for alcohol, and fragments of violent memories. Flashes of imaginary planets, twisted creatures, and giant armored bipedal insects. She truly felt for the man; his mind had been obliterated in the War, and he'd been left nationless. No one could claim him.

Riku twisted his head up towards her, his jaw clenched with spittle running down the side of his chin. There was nothing but rage behind his dark eyes. "He wasn't my son, you idiot, I have a daughter, and what with this sub-atomic bullshit magic with your fingers? Its like your creator couldn't decide if you were ninja or a wizard, and he just smacked the two together on paper! What the fuck is this even supposed to be, Japan?!"

Shimoda pulled back and smiled plainly, and scribbled something on her notepad before tearing the paper off and passing it to the attendant. "I've cleared my schedule, we'll set up an appointment soon, Riku. I'd be delighted to discuss this with you."

Riku's eyes widened excitedly for a moment, and then narrowed to dagger points.

Shimoda passed him by, with a polite wave, and continued down the hallway.The man cursed her name as he was carted down the hallway. She let out a heavy sigh, and turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Village Hidden in the Clouds. On a day like today, it sat perfectly wreathed in billowing clouds as they boiled up the sides of the mountains, and gathered strength into thunder heads.

She'd seen many things. Civil war, death cults, and now the world was just healing from a calamitous continent wide struggle. Her eyes had settled on the black twisting structure of the Orthodox Church with its blade like towers, and glinting stained glass. Not long ago, it had been rocked to its foundations by internal struggle. A fight had broken out between its members and rapidly evolved into a destructive exchange of Ninjutsu. She'd picked stained glass out of bystanders for days, healed ruptured ear drums. It was fitting that the instigator, or one of them, had landed in her psychiatric ward at a colleague's recommendation.

There was simply no other place for him. "Keep him heavily sedated," Dr. Nameda had warned her. "Enough that he is conscious, and has minimum function, but not so much that he poses a threat." Nameda had produced two vials of blood from the man, had said it was "insurance" for the Hidden Cloud, whatever that had meant.

She cleared her throat, and proceeded into the next room; a large atrium bedecked entirely in white. Seated at the far side of the room, her patient was draped over the table, staring longingly at a glass of water.

He's so young. Why him? What is special about this one? Shimoda thought and steeled herself back; watching for movement or behavior. What did Mora sculpt him into?

Arthur had been on the way back home from an errand run he had been sent on and which he had just finish when he received another summons from the Kage's office. So, off he went to said Kage's office, or at least the bottom floor of the building which housed it. Once there, he headed over to the clerk who was in charge of distributing missions and other such tasks from the Kage's office to Kumo's career ninja populace and reported in as per the usual protocol he had been trained in for such from his Academy days

"Herlock reporting for duty as ordered, ma'am. What is the task going to be about this time, if I may inquire?"

As Arthur gave the clerk his preferred alias instead of his real name, he could see the vein pulsing on her temple and her eyes narrowing in irritation as seemed to be the usual case whenever he interacted with her due to that penchant for secrecy he always seemed to exhibit in his life

"Ugh! Why can't you use your real name like every other normal pipsqueak ninja who comes in here, Arthur?! Geez, you're irksome, you know that?!"

Arthur chuckled nervously at the clerk's tirade against his choice of intro and apologized before proceeding on with the matter at hand

"Ah...uh, my apologies about that...force of habit after all these years, you know? Right then, so what is my task going to be this time, ma'am?"

Upon hearing that the clerk forced herself to calm down and handed him a sealed, official-looking scroll and then gave him the associated instructions

"Anyway, your task this time is to take this scroll and hand it over to Dr. Nameda at the Rehab Center directly. As always, do not go getting curious about it...if you know what's good for you, that is..."

Arthur was no coward but the evil smile that he saw on the clerk's lips as she gave him that warning made him gulp visibly despite his usual intrepid nature and he nodded silently, knowing that she gave him that warning because of his other noticeable penchant for extreme curiosity about such things which always seemed to get shot down by his superiors due to his low rank Genin status

"V-Very well then, ma'am. I will deliver it right away. Herlo...er I mean, Arthur, taking off."

After that, he fell silent, pocketed the secret sealed scroll in question, and started making his way from the Kage's office building to the Rehab Center. The trip took a while due to the distance between the two points, but eventually he did manage to make it all the way there. Once he arrived, he headed inside and inquired at the front desk, his voice being the usual rich baritone and melodious one that it always was

"Is a Dr. Nameda on duty here today? I have a sealed scroll for said individual which I have been instructed to deliver as soon as possible."

[1]

Shimoda studied the room for a moment longer, and folded her arms over her chest. She wondered for a moment if she should help the man at the table struggling for his water. No, she decided, she'd let him languish just a moment longer. Part of her wanted to feel pity for him, to help him in his rehabilitation.

This man would get no such comforts. While she knew his identity, he'd be known as a "Yamada Taro"; a man without a name, given a placeholder. Maybe the Hidden Cloud's higher-ups would attempt to save face for their inaction and corruption from the Church and leave him in their care in perpetuity. She could only guess at his future for now.

The doctor glanced at the clipboard, and studied his file. Sections of it had been redacted already by the Hidden Cloud's ANBU division. What struck her most were the photos. Here on the left, was a boy, not much older than fourteen, smiling and wide eyed with silver hair, with a headband hanging lopsided around his neck. It was a pre-war photo, before his introduction into the Chuunin Exams. Her fingers traced over the second; his jaw was more pronounced, hit hair shorter. Most notably, he bore bandages on his side-- wounds from a conflict in the Hidden Mist's arena.

But there was something else there-- his eyes had changed.

"Is a Dr. Nameda on duty here today?" A man spoke down the hall to a receptionist, "I have a sealed scroll for said individual which I have been instructed to deliver as soon as possible."

Shimoda shut the file, wove a new Fuinjutsu onto its cover, and briskly crossed the distance.

"Dr. Nameda isn't in this afternoon, but I can take the scroll for her; she's a colleague of mine." She said, and offered her hand, "Dr. Shimoda." She greeted with a smile. "I specialize in psychiatric rehabilitation for the Hidden Cloud's shinobi-- Ah, would you mind walking-and-talking? I volunteered to look over our atrium this afternoon. We're just serving drinks and snacks for everyone."

--

Irui inched closer to the water, and faintly grasped the sides of the glass with the pads of his fingers. A faint breath of relief escaped him. He let his arms hang on the table, his whole body slumped forward, almost draped unceremoniously.

Its so bright... in here... He grimaced, And so cold, so very cold.

His thumbs wrapped around the glass, and slowly but surely, he retracted his arms, drawing the cup in a slip-slopping motion over the table. With painstaking deliberation, he willed his back to straighten itself, for vertebrae to stack one on top of the other. Irui stared down at the cup of water, and tilted his eyes back to the thin puddles on the table's surface. He watched blankly while it rippled back and forth, undulating in its own microcosm of a sea.

"You've made quite a mess, as always." Mora tutted from across the table. "First you made an absolute disaster of my cathedral, and now this-- " She paused, and regarded for a moment with disgust, "Discount table."

"Its so hard..." Irui whispered.

"Bullshit. Doesn't it make you angry?!" Mora hissed, and rested her chin in her palm. "You were so close, so very very close to His Glory. Look at how they treated you, treated me, and the Church that took you in." Her thin lips spread into a smile.

A gold tooth glinted.

"They're trying to take it all away from you, again. They don't understand your hunger-- Our hunger. The hunger of the Mikiri. From the moment you and I were born, all we knew was struggle and competition. We fought amongst our family, fought our peers, and found salvation in a God who finally understood. Who gave our hunger purpose. Its a purpose these people do not understand. To be a Mikiri, is to hunger for all of creation, earthbound and ephemeral."

Mora guided his eyes to the entrance with a boney finger.

Irui watched Shimoda pace into the room, and turned back to the empty table. Once again, Mora had gone, as fleeting as a dream. A kumogakure-shinobi had followed Shimoda, carrying a package of some sort.

Arthur was waiting patiently for whomever this Dr. Nameda was to come pick up the scroll that Arthur had been instructed to deliver to him. After what seemed like a while, he noticed a woman dressed in the usual medical ninja garb had arrived on scene, presumably after hearing his voice down the hall from wherever she had been after which she introduced herself to him as "Dr. Shimoda" and explained the situation to him

"Ah I see, well it's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Shimoda. I am Herlock Solmes, newest genin to join the Kumo forces."

Naturally, due to his penchant for secrecy, he gave her his alias instead of his real name. Then, when she asked whether he would like to accompany her and discuss the matter of the scroll, Arthur nodded and followed her into the ward where a slew of patients lay in various states of suffering, with the scroll he had been asked to deliver in tow. As he came in, he noticed an unfamiliar young man laying at a table inside said ward room and currently watching the doorway as he and Dr. Shimoda came into the ward room.

That one sure does look like he's struggling particularly badly...but oh well, it's not my place to pry...as they say 'let sleeping dogs lie', after all...

Arthur mused silently as he briefly locked eyes with the young man who was in turn looking at him and then just as quickly as he locked eyes with him, Arthur tore his gaze away and headed off after Dr. Shimoda.

[2]

"Ah I see, well it's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Shimoda. I am Herlock Solmes, newest genin to join the Kumo forces."

Herlock.... Solmes... Shimoda catalogued that for later. She'd sworn that name rang a bell. Was it from a scroll, perhaps a story somewhere? It wasn't Kishin in origin. She smiled broadly anyways and gladly accepted the scroll from him.

Briefly she palmed it in her hands and flipped it over, inspecting it. The Bindings were intact, no sign of attempting tampering or grafting. Lightly, she felt the sealing work protecting its contents, and prodded it gently with her chakra. It resonated.

Nameda had been highly invested in the man's recovery in her ward. Kumogakure's ANBU Black Ops had stationed themselves in the wing for weeks while they'd administered medication. Now the same patient had arrived under equally similar circumstances. Shimoda knew her shinobi days were long behind her, but fate may have handed her an opportunity.

The two of them walked the length of the corridor, passing the grand windows that overlooked the Hidden Cloud's mountaintop city.

"Serlock," She said as they came to the entrance. "Thank you very much for bringing this to me." She motioned him to follow her into the atrium filled with its many tables, and few patients. A fountain gurgled in the corner, a soft, yet invigoratingly crisp alpine breeze blew in.

"This is part of our rehabilitation clinic for Kumogakure's shinobi. It is thanks to Lady Ryuko that we can provide such care. We specialize in mental and physical rehabilitation. We even have a wing dedicated to Genjutsu Recovery." Shimoda explained and brushed her dark hair back. "If you're fortunate, you won't arrive here."

She looked to Herlock and back to the patients. "The man there," She continued, referring  to Irui, "is a Yamada Taro, of sorts. He arrived here recently. It might do him some good to talk to another Shinobi like yourself. Don't worry, he isn't dangerous--We've removed much of his chakra, just in case, and applied mild sedatives. Our objective here is to keep everyone calm and manageable."

--

"... We've removed much of his chakra...." The woman at the far end of the room murmured.

So that's why.... Irui grimaced.

He tapped his fingers lightly on the table. Even these movements felt heavy, like they were weighted by rocks. Slowly he felt the gears of his mind turn, steadily shifting into motion as his thoughts tried to coalesce. It made sense-- the exhaustion, the weakness, the sloppyness of his mind.

At a snails pace he picked the cup up, and drew it to his cracked lips.

This isn't rehabilitation.... This is prison.

"Your thanks are appreciated, although I was merely carrying out my order as a rank and file soldier in the Kumo forces, ma'am.[/b]"

Arthur said to Dr. Shimoda as they both walked into the area where the patients were in rehab and then he listened calmly with a neutral expression on his face. After she was done, he remarked

"Shinobi life IS hazardous and stressful even at the lower levels and it only becomes progressively worse as one rises up through the ranks, so ending up here might just be inevitable for all Kumo ninja at some point or another. However, I shall heed your advice and do my level best to not end up in this place...more often than necessary anyway."

Once that was over, Arthur realized that Dr. Shimoda had noticed his brief eye contact with the unknown patient who had been sitting at a nearby table in the area and struggling to carrying out whatever actions he desired to do, so when she suggested that it would do that patient some good to talk to a fellow shinobi, Arthur had to ask

"A "Yamada Taro", eh? I can certainly carry out those instructions of yours easily enough, but are you sure a rank and file Genin such as myself even has the security clearance necessary to interact with him, ma'am?"

He asked and then fell silent while looking curiously at said patient about whom Dr. Shimoda had been telling him and waiting for her clarification.

[3]

"You."

"I said, you-- the man looking like a lost child." Irui said from his seat, addressing Serlock at the entryway. He slumped forward, his head lolling and hanging as if weighted around his neck. He planted his hands on the table, and slowly pushed himself back up right, steadying himself to rest his upper back against the chair. He moved, as if his body and limbs belonged to a ragdoll and someone unseen was pulling his strings.

It felt that way too. Underneath the malaise of a powerful drug cocktail everything moved with immense weight

"They give you the good stuff apparently," He continued dryly, "As a consolation prize for all that hazardous work. I'll say it again-- you look lost. You don't look like any shinobi I've seen. No, you're no shinobi, but you wear shinobi things-- a pretender. " Irui narrowed his dark eyes on Herlock and smirked weakly.

He looked to Shimoda, and his expression darkened, his eyes widened a hair, revealing reddened whites. "Congratulations on your career move, warden." He left the remark hanging in the air, mocking the woman, and returned to Herlock, ignoring her retort.

"You're different from the other Shinobi," Irui went on, addressing the man, his rasping voice slicing at the air. "I met many, many people on the battlefield, but you, you look lost, like you're trying to find your way. So tell me, are you in this to become a shinobi, or do you desire some greater purpose?"

While he was waiting for Dr. Shimoda to clarify her instructions for him, Arthur heard the voice of the "Yamada Taro" sitting at the table addressing him, so Arthur turned to give him his attention for what it was worth, his neutral expression still present firmly on his face as he listened to the man's words. The man in question went on to describe how he had apparently never seen or met anyone quite like him (i.e., Arthur) before now and expressed his views on the shinobi system that governed the ninja world. Finally, as Arthur listened onwards, the man finished by asking him whether he was in the shinobi profession for its own sake or if he was after some higher purpose. So, Arthur commenced his response to the man's remarks, chuckling in amusement as he did

"Oh? I look lost, do I? I have never heard anyone describe me quite like that before, but in some sense, I suppose you are correct."

Arthur paused briefly to consider his next series of words and then continued

"On your second remark, however, you are wrong. I am just as much a born and brought up shinobi as anyone else here in this village or any other of the five great nations. However, I will concede your other point about a higher purpose, as I do not intend to be just another face in the crowd, so to speak. I suppose whatever higher purpose the ninja world has for me will be revealed in due time in whatever form it deems fit to reveal itself to me."

As Arthur spoke, his voice had its naturally rich, baritone, and melodious tone to it as it always did and since he saw no reason to speak brusquely to him, he went with a cordial manner of speech as he conversed with the man referred to as a "Yamada Taro".

[4]

"Every person desires to stand head and shoulders above the rest." Irui replied dryly, "Its in our nature as Shinobi. You want to join the Academy...." He nodded to a civilian nurse, "So you don't become them-- Fodder during war." He paused to sip on his tepid water. "Then you're goaded into climbing the ranks from the time you can read and write. Genin to Chuunin, maybe Jounin, as far as your flesh and bones can carry you."

Irui rolled his neck, clenching his eyes shut as his face twisted into a grimace. Nausea roiled through his insides, and rattled his core, crawling through his nerves. He gripped the table as the man spoke, and he hunched forward over the table top.

He sucked in air between his teeth.

"They've got me on the good stuff I see." He hissed between sips of water. "Its what I get..."

He looked up from the water, his hair falling around his dark eyes, framing them. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window. Good god he looked like shit, with his shaggy hair. The longer his eyes could adjust, the more he realized how gaunt and sunken his face was. Months of wearing wraps and bandages over his face had bleached the color right from his skin. Corpse-like. With a labored breath he straightened his back again.

"I too seek a higher purpose. I seek answers to the war, to why the Hidden Cloud allowed rampant corruption." He tilted his head slightly. "My own Sensei, she burnt me alive for exposing her involvement. I was spared by the Orthodox Church."

"Indeed, that is the way of the ninja world, after all...no use complaining about it, methinks.[/b]"

Arthur remarked in response to those of the "Yamada Taro" he was conversing with at present and then fell silent briefly and looked on as the man struggled with even basic movements which, to Arthur, looked as though they caused the man great pain every time he tried to move in any way or do any sort of action.

The good stuff?...Ah, perhaps he means the drugs and other such pharmaceuticals that they've got him on whilst he is under their care...I do not envy his fate...

Arthur mused silently as he looked on and listened while the man continued to speak with great effort in his narrative

"That must have been rough for you. However, I find that it is often such a case with organizations of any sort...though I suppose if I were to say more on the matter, I would likely be painting a proverbial giant and very perceptible target on my back for the powers that reign from on high, so I will relent from any further comment in that regard."

He said and after pausing briefly, he inquired about the thing that had piqued his curiosity in the man's words

"Wait, you mentioned some church? So is Kumo some kind of theocracy, perhaps?"

[5]

The sound of footsteps and the tip of a staff tapping softly against the floor could be heard from outside the ward as Ryuko approached the room HE was located in according to the documentations she had seen in her office.  This wasn’t a public relations visit so she wasn’t dressed to the nines at the moment,  but the fact she was still wearing her crown and was flanked by two members of the royal guard unmistakably marked her as this country’s queen.

She wouldn’t take time out of her busy schedule to come see just anyone.  No, the person she was here today was someone she had a connection to albeit a minor one.   She had taken Irui, still a boy at the time out on a mission before the war began.   He had such promise back then,  she had thought it only a matter of time until he made Anbu.  

The file she had on him was redacted and partly incomplete.  Shimiko had privately filled her in on some of the gaps in the paperwork but all she really knew was at some point something had gone wrong.  Mora the woman who was supposed to be looking out for Irui had assaulted him, rendering him near unrecognizable.  This later led to him assaulting and killing civilians in what should have been a routine rescue and evacuation mission.  

Now most of the world believed Irui to be dead when in reality he was merely locked up.  Sedated with a cocktail of who knew which drugs in order to keep him docile.  Ryuko uttered a curse under her breath.  Mora being the head of a rival religion had been such a pain in her ass for years before she had been crowned and she continued to be a pain even from beyond the grave from some of the messes she had left to be cleaned up.

Shimiko believed that Irui had only done what he did because of Mora’s bad influence and Ryuko had to agree that seemed likely.  Now that the war was over a lot of people who had been on wanted lists like Nozomi were getting second chances, so she figured that it was high time Irui was extended one as well.  He’d already been locked up for quite a while now and from the sound of things had been pretty well behaved during his captivity.  

It had taken some time to get the legal documents she needed together so that she could release him.  While technically she could give anyone a Royal pardon at any time she wished this particular case had required the extra legwork so that the media didn’t accuse her of letting a murder onto the streets without doing her due diligence.  Now at long last all the pieces were in place so that the man currently known as Yamada Taro would be able to live his life again outside the padded walls of a cell.

Leaving the guards outside the ward Ryuko walked into the ward carrying a thick stack of legal documents under one arm and her stardust staff in another as she paused to take in the scene.   She’d known Irui would be heavily bandaged so that didn’t surprise her but  the fact he had a guest was unexpected.   She’d arrived just in time to hear last part of the Detective's last question.

“Actually we happen to be a Monarchy.” She replied with a sly grin since she herself happened to be head of state. In actuality the system she had implemented was a bit more complicated but that was the easiest word to sum it all up.   An entire country the size of the Kingdom of Thunder was far too much for any one person to run. The Parliament she had implemented had things like a Legislature and Judiciary that did a lot of the work writing up and enforcing laws for her though ultimately she got the final say on most things.  People were not voted into positions but chosen mainly through Meritocracy.  

Ryuko herself was a big believer in the right person for the right job and would rather have someone who was qualified over someone who just happened to know the right person.   Which wasn’t to say that the Nobility had been rendered obsolete and removed just that someone with blue blood needed something more than just that if they wished to participate.  

“I wasn’t expecting to run into someone else here.  To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”  Ryuko asked, directing her question towards Arthur before turning and looking Irui in the eyes.  “Hello again my friend.  Do you remember me?” she asked, hoping that Irui’s mind wasn’t too fogged up from the drugs for them to have a proper discussion. Not that as a medic she didn’t have ways to flush them out of his system but it would be such a pain in the ass.

[1]

That must have been rough for you. However, I find that it is often such a case with organizations of any sort...though I suppose if I were to say more on the matter, I would likely be painting a proverbial giant and very perceptible target on my back for the powers that reign from on high, so I will relent from any further comment in that regard."

Irui regarded the man stoically. This one was harder to chip away he'd realized. Serlock wasn't a lost Genin; he was more like a stone wall. He would be difficult to coax information from. Why did this man come to this facility, why was he here in the first place?  He closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. The medication made his mind list here and there. Whenever he'd focused intently on a subject, something would pull him away.

"Wait, you mentioned some church?" Sherlock blurted, "So is Kumo some kind of theocracy, perhaps?"

“Actually we happen to be a Monarchy.”

The clear voice cut the sterile air of the atrium; it was radiant and powerful. Over Serlock's shoulder, he caught the reaction of another patient-- one of awe and admiration. The room's atmosphere shifted instantly in her presence.

Ryuko?! Irui realized, and he locked wide eyes onto the Raikage. She approached the table with a warm smile, a staff in hand and a bundle of documents in the other. Ryuko greeted Herlock-Serlock-Watson, and then turned to Irui, her presence practically brimming with sunight.

"Hello again my friend.  Do you remember me?”

"Ryuko?" He questioned,  and turned away, burying his face in his folded arms.

He breathed in slowly, and exhaled. Irui ground his teeth against the upwelling from within himself. The last he'd recalled, was Ryuko's security forces pinning him to the ground at the Heavenly Emporium.

He remembered the dirt pressing into his cheek, the pressure of the Smoker's boot against his neck-- how she'd restrained herself from snapping it. He remembered her sizzling cigarette next to his ear, the woman's voice burning with rage. So much rage. There had been a man there too, a distant relative from his Mother's side, accompanying--

Shimiko.

Her blonde hair and brilliantly colored eyes flickered in his foggy memory. She'd approached him, not unlike how Ryuko had now at a table. A cafe in the sky. She too, like Ryuko, had greeted him, coldly, but as an ally. She too had advocated for him. Was Ryuko here for the same reason that Shimiko had come for him too? Yet here Ryuko was, with papers in hand, to spirit him away to some new destination. No, he swore this time he would write his own destiny.

"Ryuko...." He said, and swallowed hard, his words choking with emotion. "Ryuko I--"

She was the same as Shimiko, the same as Niko: Open hands reaching out to him, and with each one he'd let go so many times.  Irui looked up from his arms, into Serlock-- a complete strangers face-- he couldn't look up at Ryuko; he couldn't bear the sight of her.

Irui breathed in.

"Ryuko... I think I know why you're here." He swallowed again, and looked Serlock in the eye. "We shinobi can do terrible, terrible things... and we have to answer for actions." He stole a glance, this time towards Ryuko's mid-section. He could look her in the eye.

While Arthur, or "Herlock" as he had introduced himself to present company, was waiting for the "Yamada Taro" to explain more about Kumo's type of organization, someone else had shown up on scene...that someone being none other than the Raikage herself. Upon arrival, she had clarified the nature of Kumo as being a monarchy, so Arthur remarked

"A monarchy, eh? Well now, this is certainly a most intriguing ninja village you have here, Lady Raikage."

Then, Arthur heard Ryuko mention that she had not been expecting to see anyone else at the rehab center and afterwards, he heard her ask his name, so he replied with a perfectly practiced cordial smile

"Ah, my apologies, where are my manners? My name is Herlock Solmes and I am a fresh genin who has just graduated from the Kumo Academy and joined Kumo's ninja army, ma'am. At the risk of sounding like a sycophant, please allow me to say that I look forward to serving you and Kumo in return for all it has done for me thus far."

At that point he paused and realized that he should probably indicate to Ryuko that he was using an alias, so he resumed speaking with a brief respectful bow to her and with that same perfectly practiced cordial smile from earlier

"Of course, the name I have just given you is an alias, but I do believe you will be able to find my real name in my personnel file you have at your office or wherever those records are stored for your use, so please consult that at your convenience if you wish to know my real name."

Once that was done, he fell silent and while musing silently, he keenly observed the interaction between Ryuko and the rather beleaguered "Yamada Taro" who he had been speaking with till then  

Hmm, the plot thickens...it would seem this person is special in some way...what with him getting a personal visit from the Raikage herself...though whether he is a person of great renown and honored soldier who has since fallen into bad company...or a deviant criminal from the start...that remains to be seen, I suppose...either way, he really does not seem to want to face her for whatever reason...how amusing and intriguing, indeed...

[6]

“Oh? And what part exactly do you find intriguing?” asked Ryuko out of mild curiosity. To her there wasn’t exactly a lot of difference between being run by a Daimyo or a Queen since they were both more or less the head of state, the biggest difference was perhaps their title and the amount of land they ruled over.

All she’d really had done was consolidate three lands that had already been under her control into one unified country, beyond that she didn’t think Kumogakure was that radically different from any of the other ninja villages except for perhaps being a tad less bloodthirsty though even that point was debatable depending on how many Jashinst were around at any given time.

Herlock Solmes….where had she heard that name before and why did it sound so familiar? The answer was just at the tip of her finger but she couldn’t quite remember. It was an odd feeling to have considering she hadn’t met this boy before now. Then again it was a big country and there were plenty of citizens she hadn’t met. Smart as she was, she couldn’t possibly memorize the names of everyone who lived within her borders.

It was only when Herlock indicated that he was using an alias that everything clicked and fell into place inside her mind. Wasn’t that the name of a Detective character from an old book series that had made its way overseas about a Gentleman thief ? That realization was enough for her to give the boy a closer evaluation.

She didn’t know why he was concealing his identity and right now she didn’t really care. This was hardly the place to ask questions about that kind of thing. No what intrigued her was that he was clearly a man of culture and well read. Most importantly he was a fresh gennin which suited her purposes so perfectly that it must have been fate that had allowed the two of them to meet here at this moment.

Her current student Tsumi had very promising prospects as a martial artist. He had a lot of brute strength, but wasn’t the most well rounded. After what had happened to her last team of students she had been initially reluctant to start a new team but eventually she had given in and admitted that her apprentice would benefit from the company of his peers. It would be cruel for her to deny him the experience that had been so fundamental in shaping herself.

“If you don’t have an assigned team already would you be interested in trying out for a slot on mine Herlock?” Ryuko asked casually. Sure she could assign people to whichever team she wanted but she preferred to allow people a degree of choice in such things when possible. Whoever was on your team were generally people you’d be stuck with for the rest of your life so it was a pretty important decision. Given that there would likely be extra expectations placed on his shoulders because of who his teacher would be, she wanted to give him the option to decline.

Even if he said no that was fine too. Even if he wasn’t an official team member she could still arrange for team ups between Tsumi and Herlock. It was just her intuition speaking rather than any concrete fact but she had a feeling that they would make for a pretty dynamic duo and stood to learn a lot from each other if they got the chance to hang out together for a bit.

After that she moved onto the business she had come here for. It seemed the man she had come to see did in fact recognize her but that he didn’t want to look directly at her for some reason. Was that out of some sense of shame from the crimes he had committed or was something else behind it. Who could blame him though given the way the system itself had let him down.

After what had happened with Tamwyn the other day Ryuko felt kind of like she had been letting a lot of people down lately due to her absence during the war. If she had done more for Irui before she had been whisked away, taken him out on more missions, maybe he wouldn’t have been in this predicament in the first place. Well at least she was here for him now so hopefully it was still a case of better late than never.

“No Tatewari, I don’t believe you do .” replied Ryuko using the man’s new name as she set the files she had been carrying down on the table for him to see. It seemed to her that he was under the mistaken assumption that she was here to punish him further when that couldn’t be further from the case. “I’m not here to speak with you about your past but about your future.” she said, giving him an encouraging smile.

“As it so happens a retrial was held recently and Shimiko testified in your favour. In the end the court ruled that you were not fully responsible for your actions during the…” she paused for a second, wondering what to call it in particular since the details of Tatewari’s rampage were classified information since they had declared the culprit dead in the eyes of the public.

“...incident.” she finished hoping that she was being vague enough. “In any case it is our view that you’ve done enough to answer for your actions and that you shall be released to the general public on probation. Congratulations Tatewari, you’re a free man again.” she said delivering the good news.

[2]

“No Tatewari, I don’t believe you do .”

Irui searched her face for answers. Why, after all that he had done, was she showing kindness. His attention turned to the documents on the table; a stack of various papers and files. A quick study confirmed she'd locked them in some fashion with sealing-- probably for prying eyes.

“I’m not here to speak with you about your past but about your future.” Ryuko went on, “As it so happens a retrial was held recently and Shimiko testified in your favour. In the end the court ruled that you were not fully responsible for your actions during the…Incident."

That word, it stabbed him in the gut.

He swallowed hard, averted his eyes, and pulled his hands into fists.

“In any case it is our view that you’ve done enough to answer for your actions and that you shall be released to the general public on probation. Congratulations Tatewari, you’re a free man again.”

"What?!" He blurted "But-- But--" He choked on his words, biting them back as he remembered they were with company. Serlock was new to the field; still bright eyed (a bit lost, by his estimate), he didn't need his perception of the Hidden Cloud soiled by him. Perhaps one day he'd be able to share this with him, when he'd grown and experienced the battlefield in full. Shinobi were afterall wicked weapons, and Irui knew he was no exception.  

"Thank you...." He managed after a moment. He breathed in slowly, and massaged his throat, as it tightened and strained against scarring. "Thank you, Raikage sama."

As Arthur listened on, he heard Ryuko inquire as to what he found intriguing about Kumo and so he remarked

"Oh, I was merely surprised since I expected you to call it a Shogunate-type establishment instead of a Monarchy. Please do not mind me, Lady Raikage."

Then, he heard her invite him to join her team of three students as was the usual way in the ninja world with sensei and student and so, he remarked

"My, that is quite a honor for a lowly Genin such as myself. I am not entirely sure I have what it takes to measure up to your expectations, Lady Raikage, but I shall accept your most gracious offer to be taken under your wing and to study under you henceforth."

After that brief exchange, Arthur fell silent once again and watched Ryuko converse with the "Yamada Taro" she had come to visit

A free man? Incident?...well now, this man becomes a ever more fascinating study subject by the minute...however, it seems that this is not my time or place to pry into it...so I will let it be...for now anyways...

Arthur mused silently as he watched the two converse and was about to get lost in his thoughts when he noticed that the man seemed to be stopping himself from trying to utter whatever he was about to talk about, perhaps because Arthur was here with the two of them, so Arthur reassured the man with his usual practiced, but natural-looking polite smile

"You need not worry about me, friend. You may converse as freely as you want with Lady Raikage even if I am here with you. I give you my word that all that I hear here will be kept in the strictest of confidence..."

He paused for effect there, and then continued shortly afterwards

"...but if you are perhaps worried about shattering whatever view of the ninja world I have with your words, you need not worry about that, for even though I may only be a lowly Genin, but even I have seen quite enough of the world before coming to permanently stay in and be associated with Kumo...I am not quite as fresh-eyed, idealistic, and naïve as you may be thinking...I also know full well that ninja are meant to be human weapons and be at the beck and call of our superiors at all times. It is not the ideal thing, to be sure...but that is simply the way of the world, and so, I know that there is no helping that...given the current state of the geopolitical landscape anyway."

[7]

Tatewari seemed surprised at his newfound freedom. Well who could blame him given the circumstances. Given the severity of his crime it wouldn’t have been surprising if he was facing execution instead, or barring that being thrown into the equivalent of the blood prison if such a place still existed. The idea that he might get a second chance had likely never crossed his mind.

“I think Shimiko deserves your thanks more than I. Without her testimony I fear getting such a verdict while still working within the system would have been impossible.” commented Ryuko dryly. As the Queen she had the power to go around the system but doing so publicly could cost considerable political capital. No leader was absolute, she could never let power go to her head. Doing that would be to tread the path to her own ruin.

“Now that you are free again Tatewari what do you wish to do? Technically speaking you’re a civilian now and I wouldn’t begrudge you if you decide not to reenlist.” Ryuko always tried to give people the freedom to decide their own fate whenever possible. Willing soldiers tended to perform much better than conscripted ones.

“Such is the nature of man. As long as humans exist, so too will conflict. Ironic that we need weapons to keep the peace, no?” asked Ryuko, replying to Herlocks comment about Shinobi being living weapons. The boy was wise for his age, seeing the world for what it was instead of through rose tinted glasses. Her other student Tsumi was an idealist. Leaning too much to either side of Realism vs Idealism wasn’t ideal. Perhaps the two of them together would balance each other out. It felt like fate had led her to meeting him today.

[3]

“Now that you are free again Tatewari what do you wish to do? Technically speaking you’re a civilian now and I wouldn’t begrudge you if you decide not to reenlist.” Ryuko said.

Irui looked to her, and then back down to his arms and hands in his lap. He studied the guaze wrappings for a moment, as if they'd become his new skin. In a way they had, they'd come to define how the public viewed him. To those who'd seen him on the battlefield, the boy in the Land of Earth, Kitsuki from the Hidden Mist, he was a nightmare.

He diverted his attention to a nurse who now approached with a box containing belongings. It was marked with the Hidden Cloud's insignia. She set the box down on a nearby table, and held up a few items for him to see for a moment-- pants, top, underclothes. All of it was standard issue white and grey with red designs. At least they were providing him with clothes and not letting him leave in the nude.

At last she held up his headband, or what remained of it; A white length of fabric, scorched, with a dented and tarnished hitae-ate. Gently, she folded it, and set it before him before peeling off. He traced the Cloud design with his fingertips.

"Would you mind, Ryuko-sama, if I kept this?" Irui murmured after a moment, and held up his headband. "There are some things I need to take care of first; I need to sort out matters with my Clan, things that are long overdue, before I rejoin Kumogakure's military."

He reached out for the box, and his fingers fell short. Frowning, he pulled his arm back, and tried again. Irui sighed, and let his arm drop. He needed chakra, and whoever had made this drug had done a damned good job; not even a chakra thread could be managed.

"I suppose this is my first step to civilian life," He joked faintly and leaned out again, attempting to grasp the box and pull it towards him. Eventually, the Attendant came back around and pushed the box into his hands, then came around behind him, and unlocked the brakes on his wheelchair.

"Wait--" Irui started, and leaned over the box in his lap. "Ryuko-sama, thank you. If you need a shinobi, let me know."

[exit > Kumo proper]

Arthur, or Herlock, as he had introduced himself to Ryuko and the "Yamada Taro" she was speaking to at present; nodded to Ryuko's remark wherein she waxed philosophical about the need for the existence of weapons to preserve peace and remarked in response in a somber tone

"Indeed, though perhaps it is actually both ironic and hypocritical in equal parts, at least that is what it appears to be from my perspective anyway. That said, I do still intend to enjoy whatever I can in this one life I have and advance as far I possibly can in the goals I have set for myself over the course of my ongoing career as an up and coming, active duty ninja and so, I look forward very much to learning all that I am able to under your expert tutelage, Lady Raikage."

Then, he fell silent and beheld the rest of the conversation between the "Yamada Taro" and Ryuko. It seemed that the man was now set free from the cross he had to bear till now by Ryuko herself and Arthur heard her mention the prospect of him rejoining the Kumo military. However, it was not Arthur's place to speak for or against the man since he did not know anything about him at present and had no personal history with him either, so he simply watched on as the man gathered his things and bid a short farewell to Ryuko before heading out of the rehab facility. After that, Arthur also needed to get back with the new of a successful delivery to the clerk at the Raikage's office who was the one who charged him with this errand in the first place. So, he too excused himself to Ryuko, gave her a short bow of respect as was due to her station in the village, and then he also left the rehab facility with the intent of heading back to his residence.

---

OOC:

[8]

(ARTHUR'S EXIT)

Ryuko nodded silently in reply to Tatewari's request to keep the remains of his old headband. Who was she to deny such a request? It wasn't like headbands where only owned by active members of the military. It wasn't uncommon for them to be given to family members as a memento if a loved one passed away, especially in cases where the body couldn't be retrieved. During the war she'd lost more then one soldier who'd decided to self-immolate rather then risk the enemy getting a hold of their valuable genetic information.

As a trained Doctor Ryuko knew just how valuable even the corpse of a run of the mill shinobi could be. One never knew when they might stumble upon some here to now previously unknown jutsu and reverse engineer it from data gleaned during an autopsy. Sometimes depending on a person's clan or status one didn't even need the entire body. Just a little bit of blood might be enough to get you a clone for example. That's what she would do if she wanted to steal bloodline limit from another village to add to her own. For one thing it was way easier then kidnapping someone and second less troublesome since then the village in question you where trying to steal from wouldn't go looking for someone missing.

After awhile of thinking these tangents Ryuko snapped back to reality realizing that she was now alone. At some point both Tatewari and the little detective had left leaving her behind. She frowned slightly but she couldn't blame them for leaving her in the dust. Lately it was like her head was half in some other world, a lot of things she had tried to do like sending a team to the land of hotsprings to scout the terrain and build a new village had gone poorly leaving her feeling out of it. With Shimiko retiring it was like the only thing left keeping her grounded was her student Tsumi. Perhaps she out to mingle with her people a bit more.

[4]

[exit]