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1 A Discordian Tale [Mission/Kisei] on Tue May 08, 2018 7:52 pm



“Taka… Takahiro, is everything all right? You seem a little more wound up than usual?”

“I can’t believe someone would do this to an entire village… What gives them the right, huh?!”

The woman’s eyes had widened ever slightly in surprise at the child soldier’s outburst, her jaw clenched if only for a moment as she began to withdraw her hands from the table only to press her palms into the wooden frame as they reached the near edge. Slowly she assumed a standing position, maneuvering the chair in which she once sat to a position underneath the desk, before casually strolling around it to face Takahiro directly.  

Takahiro, as cogitative as he is, wondered as she drew near, whether this time his outburst had overstepped any lines as he prepared for the worst of outcomes. But as she came to stand just a few feet before him and several inches above him, the tension that once gripped her face had seemingly subsided. A sincere smile had broken through; it was reassuring to him at least, although this didn’t cleanse him of all apprehension before she began to respond,

“I understand your anger Taka-san, and as for what, or why rather, your guess is still as good as mine. I didn’t realize you were so unaware of the more recent developments… Although I do hear you’ve been quite the vagabond lately, meanwhile the village has been making efforts to provide aid and accumulate whatever intelligence it can that concerns those events. “  

His superior placed a gentle, strong hand atop his left shoulder, she continued on to qualify further without considerable delay, not giving Takahiro the slightest of chances to jump to any substantial conclusion,

“Many leaf shinobi have been dispatched so far, senior officer’s have been ordered to review and judge their subordinates aptitudes before forwarding those to me and other’s like me. Your time away has unfortunately put you in the bind of not having been reviewed. Therefore your options are quite limited at the moment, namely you have none… “

“However, a colleague has personally vouched for you concerning your preparedness, and considering that recommendation I’ve found a capacity in which you might still serve that would benefit the village.. And, I believe you as well. You see Konoha has opened it’s doors to those displaced in the fall of Suna, these people have lost many things… yet I’m sure they carry many memories of all that was lost. Takahiro. I want you to find and listen to such individuals, heed their words, and prepare to be de-briefed concerning all that you’ve learned, through the proper channels when the time comes.”

It was a lot to ascertain, yet Takahiro kept up and was sure he understood the objective of his makeshift, new assignment. Just moments before she finished, he swore that he could still feel the firmness of her grip atop his shoulder, despite the fact that the responsible hand had assumed its position at her side well before. It was reminiscent of the way his brute of a mother called herself coddling him at times.  

Then the mention of a “colleague” seemed a bit conspicuous and obviously begged the question of whom? Takahiro knew of their relationship from memories prior in which he’d followed his mother like a baby duckling as she performed her duties to the village, he could still recall that same reassuring smile as the image of the woman, now standing before him, crouching down to admonish him for solely being cute. It was a warming memory that imparted him with confidence, as he spoke up.

“I’m grateful that your peers think enough of me to ask you to give me a chance. I will not let you down; my reports will be perfect Shizuka-sama!”

His eyes narrowed slightly, as their newfound glare fully conveyed his determined resolve to the jounin he addressed. With a sense of urgency swelling inside him, his visage inevitably broke into an excited smile tinged by anxiety as Takahiro neared the door following a hasty departure. But he couldn’t resist leaving her with one simple, rhetorical question:

“You know I thought Mom had given up on me after that stunt I’d pulled.. It’s nice to know she still has faith in me.”

With his back turned to her, Takahiro couldn’t fully appreciate the look of bewilderment displayed on her face, nor she the knowing smirk on his.  With a quick whirl about the doorframe he turned the corner as the tail of his flowing, silken blue kimono followed, adding an air of gracefulness



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2 Re: A Discordian Tale [Mission/Kisei] on Mon May 14, 2018 5:15 am



Kisei had just about finished the new shop location, lacking only a sign and any form of reputation to his name. But who cares? He was on an assignment given to him by the Hokage himself. Saying goodbye to his resident legal guardian, Shouto, as he took his sealing scroll and swept his signature umbrella over his shoulder. Propping it open when he stepped out the door. “Watch over the shop while we're gone. Alright Shouto?”

The red headed Sumiko nodded his head. Pausing, he took a double take. “We're?”

Kisei shrugged it off like he hadn't heard the jounin. Closing the door promptly in their face, already moving through the village towards the camps outside of the Konohagakure.

Shouto had been a great help keeping company and all but he doubted that they could help him with his current troubles. To his a few moments before, a memory stood by the Ushinatta. A sweet one, but the visage was coated in tragedy and 'not to be's'. A reminder of what he lost and can't Kisei shook his head violently. Now wasn't the time for self pity, he still had people he had to interview, and more importantly; protect.

The Ushinatta waved a greeting to the wall guards as he left the village hidden in the leaves.

Kisei had to admit that the sand refugees had done pretty well for themselves, so far. Building sizable homes capable of housing multiple families. Sturdy stuff too. There was an abundance of small shops and stands lining the sides of the road. Something like a semi-permanant market. Anything from hand crafted clay statues to bear dolls could be spotted around. The sheer abundance hiding what everyone secretly knew.

They were falling apart.

Despite being welcomed to the Hidden Leaf Village a good majority of the former sand residents had trouble blending in well with their new environment. The skills they possessed in the harsh desert environment not completely meshing well with the abundant forest. Most didn't even know what kind of jobs there were to be found here. Sure they were welcomed here, but they were mostly left to deal with the situation on their own. Relying on their will power to get them out of this situation. The struggle was starting to wear down on both sides here.

Though that was why he was here wasn't he? To help create a bond between Sand and Leaf? Sorta. He was just the interviewer. The guy they hired to listen to people's grievances, sadly he didn't have much patience when it came to missions like this one. He'd just have to bear with this for now.

Walking to his old advertisement stand for his, at the time, nonexistent shop, Kisei seated himself behind the sad wooden mimic of a lemonade stand. One by one the usual customers piled in, checking in on orders they placed in earlier last week. One by one he explained that he just finished building his shop and that all the orders have been bumped up a day or three while he finished polishing up the equipment. They'd nod their heads understandingly, though they were a bit disappointed that their roof or the high tech screw driver wasn't going to make an appearance just yet.

He'd ask them before they left. "Before you go though, mind sharing your thoughts on how the Konohagakure could help a bit more? Anything that comes to mind."

A number of responses came. A good chunk of them wanted proper housing but were willing to let Kisei handle that part. The food rations were another, understandably, popular one. Kisei shivered at the memories of the food he had while he still lived here. Not that it wasn't edible... Just that no one's stomach was used to food from an entirely different continent... So many soggy nights, my gosh.

But mostly what these people wanted were jobs. That pay check at the end of the week that said that they were still useful, that what they did mattered. A feeling he could emphasize with. Despite the dread empathy Kisei felt for them he waved each good bye with a reassuring smile that their input could change the conditions around them. By God did he feel like such a liar.

He hoped that someone else would stop by so he had an excuse to take a break early. 'Compare notes' and all that. Anything to give him a break from the guilt.




3 Re: A Discordian Tale [Mission/Kisei] on Sun May 20, 2018 5:20 pm



The streets of Konoha were surging with people; the village displayed its familiar vivacity proudly as coursed through the many markets, various ethnic boroughs and most of all the gated main access roads. They were its life-blood. The many breathed life into the city, and Takahiro soon found himself entranced as he wandered, albeit purposefully, through the vast infrastructure of the hidden village. His mission was to find and listen to the individuals who were displaced by the attacks on Sunagakure no Sato, a land he knew nothing of other than broad academy teachings, and subsequently found refuge amidst the leaves.

Initially he'd had little success in finding anybody, simply because Takahiro had made the conscious decision to avoid profiling random strangers in the hopes that they would be of 'sunian' ethnicity. Instead he relied on familiar faces and familiar locations, which proved unfruitful to a point. It was discouraging to say the least. The young shinobi child hadn't been in Konoha very long since his return from abroad, and though he prided himself on being well versed with his own home terrain things had obviously changed since.

"I didn't realize how difficult this could get.. I need to think smart not hard.”

He began to reflect, considering what information he had managed to collect in the hopes that he’d overlooked some useful detail. A crass, old voice reverberated in his mind, bringing to the forefront one of the many testimonies and the withered, stern face of the old man who had previously shared with the Kimura.

“Listen to me, and listen to me good. Most of the Suna-jin have done a-a heck of a job of minding their own business and sticking to themselves...I can’t say that I’ve made any new friends out of the lot of them, but they sure have been some upbeat folk for the times. I guess it’s also worth mentioning being a resourceful and driven group too… it’s been months? Those folk have whole neighborhoods… building businesses, and more housing I’m sure.. They might not fit in exactly.. But their hard-working, alright types far as my eyes can see. Seem to be getting along just fine.”

The man then gripped the right corner of his bifocals with a trembling, veiny hand before raising and quickly replacing them. The look on his face spoke to the sureness, or lack thereof, in the man’s heart. Takahiro noted his old age, but took his final qualifier as an admission of uncertainty. Perhaps time had granted him the wisdom to understand that his assumptions and deductions could very well have been marred by fallacy.  

‘I’m not sure if I can completely trust the accounts of rojin Kojiki… love him to death, but his reality and reality aren’t always in line with one another. I have to keep looking, maybe try finding these one of those boroughs he spoke of.’

From then on he searched, relying more so on his eyesight than communication. He’d deemed that collective mind of Konoha, as much as it may have lent itself to the aid of the Suna people, was one that respected the foreign masses former sovereignty and need for space. The underlying reasons why they kept their breadth surely varied, and he was certain now that any regurgitated information he received from an external party of Hi-jin origin wouldn’t do this new people’s plight justice.

He could help wonder what that plight was more and more, what kind of power did someone abuse to leave an elite village toppled, what prevented it’s people from protecting their home? Takahiro’s mind nearly began racing, it would have been maddening until he found the answers. But as quick as his fixation began, it shifted to an errant goods stand near the split of a gradual fork in the road. With his sapphire blue hues he glanced both ways, noting that one led to the market and the other to more residential areas. He pondered the position, thinking that it was a conveniently smart thing to do. Takahiro assumed that it hadn’t been there for too long, that it was errant in the sense of his recollection of this area, which like many other regions of Konoha appeared perpetually the same as he’d left them in his bout of vagrancy.

This of course sparked another interest in the boy who sat, or maybe leaned, longingly behind the construct who he assumed was the owner. He drew near from a directly head on position, although navigating throughout the varying currents of people and making sure not to stare to intently, or for too long, at his target so as to not raise suspicion, or unnecessary concern.  The boy would emerge from the crowd a bit flustered, his hair pretty mottled but tied up and back in a thick ponytail and bearing the usual garb.

As he approached and came to stand before the boy he intended to speak with, he paused awkwardly as his mind went blank at thought of how contrived this surely would seem despite his best efforts to avoid such appearances. Takahiro had no way of knowing whether the boy, who now appeared almost identical in age to him, would perceive his embarrassment of course. His right elbow would  raise almost to eye-level as he scratched the back of his head free of cluelessness, before letting out a hesitant laugh and attempting to speak.

“Nice stand you have here!”

Takahiro envisioned himself slapping his face with the palm of both hands, among other things after such unintelligible first words. But they were all that he could manage, because the truth was that he hoped the intuitive feeling he had that this stop would aid him on his rather casual mission would prove true, and that maybe there was the slightest chance that this kid too was one of the ghosts of Suna he had grown increasingly anxious to meet over the course of that morning.



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