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Razan

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Genin
It's an Enemy! Or not. . . this is Awkward

The Boy who cried  "ENEMY!"
Kirigakure no Sato. The village Hidden in the Mist. The people that resides in the village are an interesting bunch. They didn't seem to mind the fact that they were surrounded by water on all sides, with the only way to venture off the island was through the numerous of bridges that connects to other small pockets of land or through boats that sail the seas. Yes, they didn't seem to mind the fact that a follow tsunami was the only thing needed to totally wipe them off the face of the earth. Indeed the people of Kirigakure no Sato was an interesting bunch.

“But that's not the most surprising thing. . .” A voice of an unknown man murmur to himself. A lightly tan hand touching cold surface of a pillar – dark gray eyes looking at it with apathy. No, the most interesting thing about the denizen of Kirigakure is that they were living in an almost state of denial. How is this? Through talking to some patrons, it has been adamantly clear that they want nothing to do with their former reputation as the “Bloody Mist.” The actions, while not of his own, of their ancestral leader is something that many want to forget. But one can't simply forget the amount of blood that was shredded during that individual's particular reign. The amount of blood that have forever tinted the grounds in certain areas with a reddish tone. And if that weren't enough, there are textbooks that talk about the time period – making forgetting about those eras even harder.  

“Yet they applauded when their leader did this. . .” The voice, which was oblivious man, murmur to himself. The pillar itself was truly a magnificent piece of art. The rays of the sun above, reflected off it's ice blue surface, causing it to shine like a beautiful diamond . . . err rather a sapphire.

“A truly magnificent piece of work indeed.” The man thought to himself, his hand having gone numb from touching the cooling surface – thoughts drifting back to what he founded assuming about the patrons of this country. They say that they don't want to be known as their former moniker “The Bloody Mist” but yet their leader created this and they cheered. Their self esteemed leader decided in a show of force, she would eradicate the prison system – their only prison system. She, or at least that's the rumor anyway, came to the 'glorious' conclusion that they didn't need a prison. That she will just kill off those sentence to the jail, not caring about the families that were left behind. Not caring that some of those same people were innocent or were getting out in a day or to. No. The Mizukage didn't think about that at all. The only thing she cared about was showing her might. And as the ice sculpture before him was formed, the people cheered. They cheered as hundreds and thousands of people was put to death. They cheered as blood soaked the ground, and linger into the air – just like the 'Bloody Mist' era. And despite their disposition of not wanting to be connected with that particular moniker, they have unknowingly became what they wanted not to be.

“Not like I really care. . .” He thought to himself, his hand having moved from the ice pillar – preventing frostbite from setting in – a relief to his bugs who didn't like cold no matter the situation.  Moving around the pillar he noticed the Kanji's etched on the side, but couldn't for the life of him make out what it was said – it having been faded out over time. It meant little to him, for it matter not what the words meant. Than again it matter not that this was the finally resting place of hundreds of shinobi. In fact a small, barely noticeable smile appeared on his stoic face though disappeared just as quickly.

Crunch!

The sounds of the ground crunching below, caused him to pivot on his foot, the black cloak wrapped around him billowing in the wind – his gray eyes landing on the one who came into the area.

Much wasn't needed to be said about the Kirigakure shinobi that had came into the clear. The brown haired male wore the stereotypical flak jacket associated with being apart of their forces. His lackluster and scarred head band hung around his forehead – keeping shaggy hair from obscuring his vision. And from what he could make out the man wasn't arm, though he wasn't for certain.

“Who are you?” The Kirigakure shinobi asked, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a kunai, dispelling the notice that he wasn't armed and held it shaking a front of him.

The man a front of the ice structure didn't bother in answering the shinobi, ignoring him completely, his hand shaking softly, clenching and releasing as gray eye bore into individual who spoke. The man eyes showed unbridled hatred for the Kirigakure shinobi, that was being kept in check by the soft mumbling of his family. They were telling him not to make a scene. Not to attack. This wasn't the time or place for such.

“I ask you again. Who are you?” Kirigakure shinobi exclaimed, trying and failing to sound all commanding a front of this unknown entity.

Again the man didn't answer, instead turning his back on the one who asked him the question. The simple gesture, in most cases, is considered the most disrespecting thing someone of equal statue can do to another being. It means that they find themselves superior than the other. The other isn't worth their time. It means a lot of things but theses are the most prominent.

“Hey! Don't turn your back on me on. And answer my damn question.” The shinobi yelled.

Silence. It reign supreme in the area, what seemed like minutes were actually seconds “My name. . . it's Mu.” The now identified Mu said. His family couldn't help but to chuckle at the given name. Of course only Mu could hear them.

“Mu? That's your name?” Now what kind of question was that? He gave his name, did he not? “Well what are you doing here?”

Now that was a load question, if there ever was one. Why was he hear? Well of course he knew the answer to that question, but he wasn't about to tell him that. “Oh. Just looking around. Enjoying the sights.” He said, arms frayed out around him.

Apparently the man didn't believe his words. That or he was extremely paranoid. For the next thing Mu knew the man was screaming and running away from his location. The words that he screamed, causing him to sigh and prepare for what will undoubtedly come his way.

“AN ENEMY HAS BEEN SIGHTED! AN ENEMY HAS BEEN SIGHTED!”


OOC: Will be allowing any approved jutsus that need to be train done here. Along will their usage in battle after the training is completed.

Weather: Clear Skies. Around Noon. Slight breeze from NE. . .chilly.

Parasitic Chakra Drain(C)|1000 out of 1000| Trained

Insect Jar Technique(D-A)|157 out of 2000 | Learning. . .


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Doton: S | Fuuton: C
Ninjutsu: S | Bukijutsu(Bojutsu): C |
[Missions] D: 0 | C: 0 | B: 0 | A: 0 | S: 0 | SS: 0

Character | Jutsu | LockerStats
Str: D - 0 | Spe: D - 0 | End: C - 1 *(Factors in a +2) | Perc.: D - 0 | Rea: D - 3

Oomi

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Genin

Seven Bells Saga
The Long Road Arc
Act Two: Psalms of Oomi.
Scene One: The Boy who cried; “Enemy!”

Oomi wrapped her arms about her body as a strong chill overcame her frame – the result of the breeze that had dared pass between buildings and trees in search of the girls bare flesh. Admittedly, the shiver was more a conditioned response than a result of the actual sensation of cold air. One might have, for that moment, thought the girl had regained the natural abilities contained in all human flesh. They’d have been mistaken, despite her well done acting job. Even she couldn’t help but to giggle gently at the thought. She’d not truly felt the breeze, more so had it been heard as it whistled through the corridors of the city some short distance from its outskirts. The noise alone was enough to prompt her response, in truth. But, why? What reason did she have to pretend that she could feel the chill in the air? Arms fell to her sides once more, bare as always. The fingers of which tensed and relaxed repeatedly before they found the trim of the oversized garment she was wearing. The thing was pulled up slightly, and held within her grasp. She’d made the decision yesterday that she’d never again leave the house without her gift from Wolfgang, a large black cloak which hung down to just above her knees. The thing was sleeveless, yet its size and the cape which it bore on the back often caused it to cover her arms from time to time though not much, or enough to matter during a fight when the garment would be its most useful. Not that she actually realized the capabilities of the garment, it just seemed to be a good luck charm.

The question had not been forgotten… why pretend? Eyes darted about as if they might find the answer in some outside source, as if it dwelt anywhere but within her own psyche. Perhaps it was that she feared what else might dwell deep within those dark recesses as well. In the places she dared not venture even within herself. The girl shook her head in disagreement with the need for the question to be answered. Yet, still she dove into the abscesses of her mind. To those places that made her love battle so much, a smirk crossed her lips, to that place that made her crave adrenaline like some cracked out junkie, her smile faded, to that place from which her enjoyment of watching the light drain from an opponent’s eyes sprang…. Her smile was gone, but her answer had been found. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to feel like everyone else did… She wanted to feel. They say it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all… It was a lie that could not be applied to her situation. To have known the what it meant to touch, to feel something against your skin and then have it so suddenly tore from you… it was a wonder the girl hadn’t lost her mind in the process. Oh, to imagine what it must be like for those that lose senses they’d grown so accustomed to. At least those that lost their sight became superior in other aspects. What would replace her lost sense of touch? A better sense of taste perhaps? The idea was a welcomingly light thing that make her chuckle. Knowing her luck she’d gain this superior sense of taste only to find that all of the food she enjoys is actually disgusting or something of the sort. The young woman shook her head once more.

“Oomi?” The voice was somewhat high pitched, that of a child’s. When she found its source, her assumption would prove to be true. Slightly off to her right was a young boy by the name of, Ban. He was a short thing, shorter than most of the boys his age – a thing which often found him being picked on. Not to mention he was younger than most of the other boys at the Academy as well, a result of his parents wanting all of their children to start earlier. Some belief that they would become significantly stronger by starting two or three years earlier…

“Oh, hi Ban~” Oomi said, glad to have someone to listen to besides her own inner monologue.

“It is you. I didn’t know, what with the bed sheet you’re wearing.” Ban replied with a hearty chuckle.

“Oh hush yew~” Oomi couldn’t help but laugh at his joke, however corny it may have been.

“Haha. Where are you going, Oomi?” The boy asked as he turned took a place next to the young woman and motioned for her to continue walking. Which she did, though she wouldn’t be allowing him to continue all that far with him. Where she was going, he surely couldn’t come.

“The monument.” The girl said somewhat flatly,a thing that Ban took notice of but didn’t comment on. He’d only known the girl to be an excitable ball of energy, and thus such emotionless tones were strange to him. But, he’d not bother her about it.

“But, people say it’s so cold there that it burnnnss~” Ban mused as he rubbed his biceps with the opposite hand as if he were suddenly extremely cold.

“I know, so you’d better get on home.”

“Well… You be safe, Oomi!” Ban wouldn’t argue, he’d no intention of burning alive in freezing temperatures. It was a far better idea to return to his friends and enjoy the rest of his years. Whatever was wrong with Oomi he’d find out when she returned… assuming she returned of course.

Oomi was glad there was no need to explain to the boy why she was going. Better to say nothing of it than to have to come up with some reason that would uphold her jocular and carefree image in his eyes. What would he think of her had she told him? Probably nothing different in truth. What was so bad about wanting to test the theories? Wanting to see if she really would burn… Perhaps she’d feel that… A girl could only dream.

“AN ENEMY HAS BEEN SIGHTED! AN ENEMY HAS BEEN SIGHTED!”

When did she get this close to the monument? Where the hell had this screaming fool come from? “Where? Who? Is it Seven Bells’ people?” Oomi asked as the screaming shinobi neared her.

“I don’t know… he’s…” The shinobi certainly wasn’t the most brave of them. Perhaps, he’d come to fear the soldiers of Seven Bells, and thus because he’d thought Mamoru one of them… or maybe this one was just cowardly. “He’s back that way… It’s a sneak attack! We’ve got to mass the troops!”

“Just one guy? I’ll handle it.” Oomi said with a determined fist pump. The cowardly ninja nearly burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. What could this one girl do? Then again… he did recognize the cloak she wore. It belonged to a man that had recently become Jounin.

“Is that Wolfgang’s cloak?” The shinobi asked pointing to the ebon garment she wore.

“Yes, I whopped his ass and took it from him.” The girl lied, hoping it would be enough to convince this cowardly shinobi that he could handle the situation herself.

“Well, you right on ahead and handle that guy then. I’ll just wait here…”

Well, that was far easier than she expected. With any luck this stranger really was one of Seven Bells’ soldiers. She’d get to test her strength again against one of the most powerful opponents she’d ever faced. True, she’d done battle with a number of her fellow shinobi, but none were as strong as they… not on their own anyway. A mischievous grin slid across the girls lips as she turned from her new companion and headed onward toward the monument. As she left him, the shinobi called out the name that he’d been given by Mamoru as if it were of some true importance to the girl. She was only worried about the prospect of finding some sensation in combat, hoping that he was strong enough to make her feel the pain caused by his strikes… At the very least she’d get her adrenaline fix, which was cause for celebration. It was only a matter of moments before she found the strange visitor within eyesight.

“Oi! You the one called, Mu?” Oomi yelled at the top of her lungs. She’d not get the moment she wanted to admire the large pillar, so adorned in its beautiful kanji. It was a testament to the idea that the land of water would always be stained red. Perhaps, it was in their very nature to slaughter even their own people. Yet, still Oomi had respected the Mizukage’s decision when she’d heard of it. She couldn’t say it was the wrong one to be made. Though she was still too young to understand the full ramifications of it, or perhaps simply too removed from the consequences of the act. “I hear you’re one of Seven Bells’ guys.” Oomi continued as she moved closer, though she’d leave a good deal of space between them. No need to be extra reckless like usual. Though she did want nothing more than to simply charge him and get this started. “Guess that means I’ve got to kill you now, right?”


[ Word Count: 1,559 ]
[ Training; TBD ]



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"Ōmijutsu: Bōfūken!"
Saiyama Oomi Profile | Oomi's Plotter | Saiyama Clan | Jutsu List | Locker
Taijutsu: S Rank - Ninjutsu: B Rank
Fuuton: S Rank - Doton: B Rank
[ Stats Thread] Str: C | Spe: C | Rea: D - 3 | Perc.: E - 2 | End: D - 1
[Missions] D: 2 | C: 0 | B: 1 | A: 0 | S: 0 | SS: 0

Razan

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Genin
“You should have slitted his throat, instead of letting him escape.” Spoke the angelic voice of the entity residing in Mamoru's body. It was oblivious by the tone of her voice she was disappointed in his action or rather the lack there of. Mamoru, himself didn't make a comment right off the bat, instead allowed a pregnant pause to descended upon the pair, though this didn't stop his thoughts from running rampant in the deepest part of his mind; thoughts they were accessible to the entity but who would not invade them – it's host deserved some form of privacy.


“Yes, I should have. But I didn't.” The deep sounding voice of Mamoru echoed within his mind, cutting through the silence like a hot knife through butter. He had the chance to kill the man, but he didn't. Why? A small flick of the wrist, a gleaming kunai sliding across the pale flesh, that all what it took to end the man's life. But yet he didn't bring himself to act when he had the chance. This war, it made killing easier for those like him, everybody else were to occupied with it to worry about the actions of the few who would take advantage of this stressful time. Though this isn't surprise, it's the case for all wars. The right condition had been met and those willing to risk it have been rewarded, generously. Yes, killing the man would have been easy. The body wouldn't have been found till a day later at best, and even than the lack of evidence would cause it to be written off as a casualty of war. And no one would have been the wiser. To easy. . .

“But yet you didn't. Have you grown soft, Mamoru-kun?” The entity stated with a mocking undertone. The entity, which was female, knew better than anyone that her host was anything but soft. For unlike the other mindless beasts that killed without pause, he didn't. The man knew when to kill and when not to – it what makes him different from the others. Something that she finds both refreshing and repulsing at the same time. The animal side of her wished her host killed more; while the side that's all for self-preservation is quite happy about his lack of killing. Sometimes time it sucks being apart of nature. . .

“Tsk. You obliviously don't know me well enough than.” He stated, dark gray eyes looking across the horizon where the Kirigakure shinobi disappeared to. As he waited patiently for the others to show. Some might wonder why he didn't flee the scene when the shinobi had vanished from sight, while the idea did had it merit apart of Mamoru wanted to see who exactly would arrive. Would it a jounin? Maybe a team of them? Or maybe the Anbu would grace him with their prescence? No, the latter wasn't likely, the Anbu probably were task with something far more important than dealing with a lowly genin – like him. Or he could be lucky and no one would show.

“Seems like I'm not that lucky.” He mused, a barely noticable smirk manifesting on his visage, grey eyes locking with the lone figure that was approaching the landmark that he was near. Ten seconds, that how long it took for the distance between the two be closed to roughly four and half meters.

“Apparently I am the one called nothingness. . .” He stated, his monotone voice being that associated with a boring classroom teacher that kept on droning about an unimportant topic. Mu, the name that he had choose for this particular encounter translated roughly into nothingness, it was not a common name amongst the shinobi of the era but was popular in older days it was fairly popular, especially with a certain Kage of Iwagakure. He didn't choose the name to honor the dead man. No, he chose the name because it described him perfectly. Mamoru was nothing. He was not a shinobi. He was not human. He was simply nothing. . .

”Kind of morbid, don't you think?” The entity said with an jingle to her voice.

Did the woman before him honestly think that she could kill him? Ha! The thought was laughable at best. No, this woman didn't have the skills to kill him, though he would admit that she might pose a challenge for him – a small one but one nonetheless.

“You can try.” Once the three little words were spoken, the female would know that the time was talking was over and the battle would commence.



Insect Jar Technique(D-A)|937 out of 2000 | Learning. . .


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Doton: S | Fuuton: C
Ninjutsu: S | Bukijutsu(Bojutsu): C |
[Missions] D: 0 | C: 0 | B: 0 | A: 0 | S: 0 | SS: 0

Character | Jutsu | LockerStats
Str: D - 0 | Spe: D - 0 | End: C - 1 *(Factors in a +2) | Perc.: D - 0 | Rea: D - 3

Oomi

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Genin

Seven Bells Saga
The Long Road Arc
Act Two: Psalms of Oomi.
Scene Three: The Boy who cried; “Enemy!”

Nothingness. She didn’t catch it at first, instead giving him a twisted grin of confusion. What in the hell was he talking about? Hands slid to hips when she’d realized he was referring to the name she’d just attributed to him. Mu. “Trying to be funny, eh?” She half snorted beneath a frustrated mumble whilst leaning forward slightly to offer a better sight of her obviously annoyed facade. It wasn’t important, but he’d made her feel even the slightest bit stupid. No doubt her initial confusion could not be masked so late afterwards. Perhaps had she not been so sure that he were an enemy it might have mattered even less. However, as things stood an enemy had gained some small victory over her – a thing most unacceptable.

To worsen matters further as if the prior victory were proof of her inadequacy the cocky fiend dared that she attempt taking his life. Sure of his abilities after having so handily dealt with her on an intellectual level once before, the young man was goading her further by doubting her prowess in battle. She was sure of these facts and would have none of it. If ever there was a time to prove herself worthy of the markings she bore on the band that tied her hair in place, it was now. “Ooooh, you’re gonna get it Bell-chmen!” This was her clever response; Bellchmen. In her mind it was meant to represent her soon to be opponent’s status as a Seven Bell’s Henchmen. She’d also thought it a clever take on the word belch, implying he was blowing hot air or some such. Not that he’d have caught all that, or that anyone would have… Nor would they actually be expected to.

Oomi thought of shouting some final battle cry before lunging herself at ‘Mu’ of the Nothingness but decided against it. Nope, this particular fighter had insulted her one too many times and needed to be taught a lesson – this could otherwise be known as simply pissing off a young woman that probably thought entirely too much and blew an entire situation out of proportion…. Or better yet invented one of her own design. Whatever the case, there was a seconds pause after her comment about how he was going to ‘Get it’ before powerful legs took off in a short sprint that would amount to just a few steps considering their proximity. Once in range, granted ol’Mamoru didn’t move she’d launch a quick left jab, that would be followed immediately by a right hook. The former was directed upon his face, while the latter was a body shot that would find his left side if she were fortunate.

No need to use any fancy jutsu just yet, her natural speed was enough to match the average Chuunin. Her strength was a bit lacking, but she’d make up for it when the time came. For now the goal was to put this stranger to the test. There were a number of questions that needed answering before she threw herself completely into this battle. ... Or maybe if she were being completely honest with herself; the fight needed to be drawn out, she needed to build the adrenaline that she craved so dearly slowly… let it tease her at first, like some kind of sensual chemical foreplay that would lead to inevitable glorious release.

[Word Count: 2,122]
[Training: TBD]



____

"Ōmijutsu: Bōfūken!"
Saiyama Oomi Profile | Oomi's Plotter | Saiyama Clan | Jutsu List | Locker
Taijutsu: S Rank - Ninjutsu: B Rank
Fuuton: S Rank - Doton: B Rank
[ Stats Thread] Str: C | Spe: C | Rea: D - 3 | Perc.: E - 2 | End: D - 1
[Missions] D: 2 | C: 0 | B: 1 | A: 0 | S: 0 | SS: 0

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