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1Between. (Takayuri/private) Empty Between. (Takayuri/private) on Fri Mar 16, 2018 8:40 pm



Still reeling from the nightmare, Kirei tightened the headband around his forehead as he shoved open the door to the streets. The sun had barely begun to rise which probably explained why it was so **** freezing. The Uchiha's plumes of frosty smoke were giving him flashbacks to training days with his father, spitting fireballs until his lungs burned and he coughed up blood. Shoving his fists down angrily into the coat he was wearing didn't do anything to take his mind off the lack of sleep and shitty temperature. It didn't help that his father only sent clothing that proudly bore the Uchiha family crest, which made Kirei's eyes roll. So he walked briskly from the door of his dormitory, muttering a string of curses under his breath which amounted to little more than pointless vulgarity.

Kirei could already tell that the Mist Village started its day much earlier than at home. Before dawn, morning marketplaces stood next to the harbor ready for overnight fishing vessels to bring fresh stock; the first few lonely such ships were just now snuffing the lanterns on their boats and disembarking. Uniformed shinobi were out in force already performing their duties as well, overseeing the coming and going of the nearby port. The Uchiha walked along a wide footpath to the right of the water looking across his shoulder to the pitch black expanse of water. Just now the first few cowardly lights started to peek pathetic, amber eyes over the horizon.

Memories inevitably came to Konoha and walking the lakeside paths on the way to the academy. Was this what homesickness felt like? If it was, Kirei was having none of it. No matter where he shook his thoughts, the words of his father's condition rung in his head. This was the truth he had been avoiding thinking about and refused to acknowledge. He stopped and shut his eyes tight, breathing deep and slow of the sea air to remind himself that he was far from home. There was a moment of clarity, and then he felt his stress begin to melt away. There was still a knot in the pit of his stomach, but nothing a walk and a meal wouldn't fix.

By the time he'd walked the entire length of the port, dawn was well underway. The streets transformed as quickly as Kirei turned around to step back; suddenly his vision was filled with a bustling seafood market. Had he spawned this wonderous creation in his wake? Was the magnetic pull of his morning walk so transcendent that it alone could create delicious, fresh seafood? Of course not but it was fun to think so. The stroll back to the dorm after he'd calmed down took a lot longer; not only was he stopping to check out the market's delights but he'd also calmed down from his initial stress. When he finally rounded the corner of his street, he was surprised to see Yūji sitting waiting for him outside. The dog turned to him immediately and approached him at a run.

"Kirei!" The stern hound would say "In Kiri, our day starts at six. We already have daily morning assignments; then we report to a Jounin this evening for a mission! You have to take this seriously; we're not here to **** around, this is a privilege for you."

The dog's ranting sobered the boy up from his serene daydream, and he nodded shamefully. He agreed almost entirely but still found himself unable to completely commit to this mode of Shinobi Duty. With Yūji again snapping at him the two would set off towards the harbor, the second time of the morning for Kirei. Yūji explained their duties this morning would be unloading trade ships from Konoha; regular massive shipments maintained between the two allied nations to share exclusive goods. Well away from where Kirei had walked earlier, the two came to the opposite side of the harbor where the nation's imports came in. A far cry from the small fisherman's ships which provided for the market, the naval port was a monument to Kiri's shipping legacy.

The genin groups assigned to transport goods back and forth between the merchants and Jounin who inspected the cargo were easy to spot. Freshly clad in Kirigakure regalia, the other Genin who worked around him were obviously as green as he was. Immediately upon hoisting two heavy sacks of oranges onto his back, Kirei realized precisely what this was: bitch work. He shot a glance at Yūji, who met the boy's eyes and knew immediately what was going to happen; he'd seen that look before, Kirei was finished. In spite of pleading eyes, the Uchiha marched toward the far end of the harbor.

The boy made no show of stealth absconding from the task at hand. He was happy to train with a real master or go on an actual mission, but this type of busy work meant nothing to him. Oranges in hand, Kirei approached the barrier separating the naval dock from the civilian one and hopped it. Behind the boy, his canine would say nothing but slink along on his trail, resigned to Kirei's procrastination. With the day now at his disposal, Kirei took time to enjoy the nearby markets in full; he would approach the stalls closest to this side, marveling at the catches of the day.

700 trains c-rank jutsu (-10% quick learner, -10% uchiha ninjutsu, -10% uchiha katon)

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2Between. (Takayuri/private) Empty Re: Between. (Takayuri/private) on Sat Aug 04, 2018 2:58 pm



The Bodhran seemed like a simple instrument. It was a hoop of wood with a skin stretched over it and bound into place that could be played with the hand of a piece of bone or wood called a tipper. Were you to strike it in the centre with an open hand it made a deep sound, and a lot of peoples perception of this particular drum stopped there. These chose not to look past the simplicity of the design into the beautiful intricacies of the Bodhran, where the depths of the instrument come to light with someone who takes the time to understand it. If you place your hand behind the skin it changes the sound depending on where you strike in relative position to your hand. Striking the edges also creates a different sound, and different strikes with the tipper as well. With the Bodhran you can truly create beautiful sounds. It gives truth to the statement that one cannot judge a book by its cover. For something seemingly so simple to be so beautiful truly epitomizes that.

When Takayuri was a child his father taught him how to play the Bodhran. His mother would play the flute and his father and he would drum along with her. It had been explained to him that music was a universal language and that it was a great way to meet new people and make friends. Takayuri was always a kind boy, and he wished to have as many friends as he possibly could. His family was not wealthy, but they had everything they ever needed. They had enough food to get by in life, they had a house and beds to rest, and they had one another and their positive attitudes to carry them through. And the other, equally as important thing that they had, of course, was music. Long before he was ever taught to wield a spear, Takayuri had become an advanced player of the intricate instrument that his father had presented him with, and his hand eye coordination with striking the drum and the positioning of his hand behind the skin were fantastic. Later in life Takayuri would learn that his father was also taught to drum before he learned the spear, as it was a good way for him to learn the skills necessary to wield such a weapon.

It was funny how the two skills ended up correlating to one another. Takayuri watched as his tather wielded his red spear, Gáe Dearg, twirling it in his hands as though it was as light as the tipper he would normally strike the drum skin with. Each strike was delivered with grace, each thrust with precision accuracy and there was never any point that Takayuri had felt his father was out of control of the weapon. He watched the tip of that blade twirl until the sky turned black and red, smoke rising high above the village of Sunagakure. A man dressed in black with long black hair stood in front of his father, Takayuri saw his eyes. His left eye was emerald green and his right, scared where he had clearly once been struck by a weapon, was a pale green.

“No man can stand in the path of Justice. This village’s corruption runs deeper than you realize. Leave now and you will be spared.”
The man’s voice was cold and a darkness rested upon his shoulders. Takayuri couldn’t quite see him but he was intimidated by his presence. His chakra was monsterous and the pressure he seemed to passively exert, and the heat, were overwhelming, but his father stood stalwart against him.

“Funny how they call you Saint, yet you stand here and take so many lives on this night. I cannot allow you to continue destroying my home, and the people in it. I will end you Sword Saint...” The man shook his head and Takayuri watched as his father brought his two spears to bare, facing off against the monster who wielded sword and whip. The heat radiating off of his body was stripping away his father’s flesh, and the batter was not as long as the young Takayuri would have expected, his father being bested by the masterful monster whos path he blocked. The man stepped over his father and moved along, Takayuri waiting until he was gone before rushing to his father’s side and holding him in his arms. He wasn’t sure how long he’d laid there, but at some point his mother collected him and told him they needed to leave, Takayuri taking the spears of his father into his hands...they were still so hot...

He awoke in a cold sweat. He had dreamed about that moment every single night since it had happened. His father had been his hero and his idol, and that man had taken him away from him without a second thought. Takayuri had heard tales of the Sword Saint, though generally portrayed as a great hero. He wondered how he had managed to fool so many...

He pushed the blankets off of his lean form, sweat making his muscular chest and abs glisten. The spears of his father were crossed upon his wall; Gáe Dearg, the Crimson Rose of Exorcism, which could render any chakra based technique, weapon or armour that it interacted with useless for the interaction, and Gáe Buidhe, the Yellow Rose of Mortality, which caused wounds that could never be healed unless the wielder willed it. His Bodhran rested below them, young Takayuri brushing a finger after the well worked skin that his father had helped him make when he was a child. He sighed and shook his head, running his fingers through his greasy hair and puling it out of his eyes before stepping into the shower...

His day was fairly free, and so when he was ready, his Sunagakure headband affixed around his neck and a fur trimmed coat used to cover him from the cool weather of his new village, hiding the armour that had been issued to him upon joining the village, he made his way out. His spears were fixed to his back and his drum hung from his hip as he made his way down towards the marketplace near the port of the village. It was one of his favourite places here to think, as it was the most stark contract to where he had come from that he could think of. The village of Sunagakure had no body of water around it, but here you could feel the spray of water splashing your face no matter where you stood. You could hear seagulls and the sounds of people moving cargo on and off of ships, as well as watching the ships come into port in the background. He found a spot where he could sit, watching as a group of shinobi dressed in Kirigakure garments worked nearby, pulling out his drum and tipper and gently running his hand over it as he sighed and began to play.

He watched not the drum, but the people, hoping to entice people to come and enjoy his music...


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3Between. (Takayuri/private) Empty Re: Between. (Takayuri/private) on Wed Aug 22, 2018 2:35 am



As far as the horizon stretched, Kirei could see behind the stalls and markets, far into the distance where the waves churned and crashed against the hulls of giant vessels, their heft thrusting the water in all directions as they made pilgrimage toward the land. In some ways, the enormity of it reminded him of home, endless rolling folds of blue and white mirrored the spires of emerald that formed Fire Country's forests, spread out wide in directions, as far as the eye could see. Flowing currents washed from the shoreline, caressing the blonde's face as he, leaning forward, took in the aroma of caramel and sugar, mixed with the salty air of the sea's gift to man. The Uchiha, for all his homesickness, appreciated the beauty and strength of the Hidden Mist, even as he planned his final days before departing to his homeland, the friends he had made and the journies imparted on behind the rigid walls of Kirigakure's embrace lingered in his head. Most troubling, the unsolved mysteries that he and Di had begun their work toward, ones that neither of them was equipped to solve, and the strange visitors who accompanied their investigation, the woman with eyes like his who still haunted his dreams.

"Six of the caramel wafers, a pack of sweet tea candy, and four of those pomegranate juice bottles."

Freeing his hands of the confines of his cloak, the boy held his arm out toward a vendor who replied with smiling candor, packaging up the Uchiha's sugary order into a sack of paper before Kirei would carelessly exchange his money, barely bothering to count the funds, as they would shortly be useless upon his return to Konoha. The life awaiting him would lend little time for frivolity and unnecessary spending, even now, as Kirei steeled himself mentally for his duties, he thought of the Mist's ideals, and how he could not allow his home to become embroiled in the same cauldron of hatred and murder. If his time in Kirigakure had taught him anything, it was that the Water Nation's influence could not be ignored, and their partnership with Konoha, while admirable in concept, was something that made Kirei's stomach churn as he watched how many of his brothers and sisters from the Leaf arrive daily, and the way its values warped them. Shaking his head free of heavy thoughts, the Uchiha would depart, turning his back on the market and close his eyes to breathe in deep, exhaling the tension in his bones and the unease clawing at his spirit. The Mist was good at heart, he knew enough of their people to believe that, but at some point, Kirei could not help but think they had become too afraid of the things which once had wrought such terrible destruction on them, and in their efforts to protect their people, forgot what it meant for one to be redeemed.

Kirei's ears twitched, sounds floating on air to permeate the surroundings with their rhythmic cadence, pattering like footsteps but far too in tune, a dance of percussion and waves which reminded him of the theatre he and Di had raided, and the nefarious Kabuki Killer's performance. But something else, a song behind the sheer pounding of a war drum, spoke softly of a world that Kirei had never seen. Undercurrents of sliding hands punctuated the space between beats and the Uchiha turned, blonde halo spinning around his head and eyes, to face the source of enchanting melody. Further inland, on a risen bank overlooking the market, a shinobi sat keeping watch on the comings and goings, trailing the bustle with his eyes and absent-mindedly thrumming on the instrument that sat with him. Even from where he stood, Kirei could pick out the markings on the hitai-ate wrapped neatly across the other man's neck, one which bore the markings of the Land of Wind, a symbol that the young Uchiha had seen more since arriving in the Mist than in his whole life in Konoha. Without delay, Kirei would hop the median toward the boardwalk and veer to begin his ascension of the grassy hillock.

Kirei made no secret of his approach, and the other shinobi would catch the teen's visage, as vague as it may have appeared with a black cloak hanging across the Uchiha's body, obscuring his form and the myriad ninja tools which lay beneath. Stark, ready, pitch-black was betrayed by the trailing comet of Kirei's gold mane through which the most revealing facet was framed. It would become clear, as Kirei approached, how he had been able to discern the patterns on the other's headband with such effortless observation, as the Uchiha's Sharingan came into view. The triumvirate of slowly orbiting tomoe which Kirei had found himself unable to deter, remained unhidden by the blonde, who found himself growing accustomed to the rivers of blue light and radiant chakra which clouded his vision, coloring his world in shades of energy highlighting even the slightest details. Since his diversion into Hansha, and going on a month, Kirei's dojutsu had refused him and become entirely unwilling to fade, persisting even through his sleep, and the young Uchiha had given in, allowing the ancestral vision to guide him as it pleased. Shared between the pair would immediately be a common trend, Kirei's Konohagakure hitai-ate across his forehead would mark him too, as a foreigner, and with a smile, the teen would coo cheerfully, presenting a glass bottle of pomegranate juice from the bag he carried and offering it to the other shinobi as he spoke.

"I'm starting to think there's more Suna-nin here than Kiri-nin! This place is freezing I'm from Fire Country, and I'm already sick of it I don't know how you guys from the desert put up with it."

Without asking, or a second thought, the Uchiha smiled, plopping himself down in the grass and withdrawing from his recent purchase a small sliver of fried caramel, crunching sounds emanating from his lips as he bit into the morsel.

"Uchiha, Kirei. I like your song."



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